Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(31)

That’s me. I could always count on them, if not for their support, at least for them to still talk to me despite everything I’ve done.

But I don’t know how they’d respond to me now. If they knew I’d hacked into Pilar’s computer at work and found all of the dirty email between her and f*cking Zachary Lawrence. My sister’s ex-boyfriend, the biggest creep on the planet. Violet finally kicked the cheating scumbag to the curb and Daddy sent him to travel around Fleur stores in Europe, training them on the latest projects.

Getting him out of Violet’s—and supposedly Pilar’s—hair.

But they still talk. Or at least, they did. I thought the email evidence was bad enough, but then I found something worse. Something so bad, it scared me. Sent me straight into a panic and made me run. Not before I drank a giant glass of wine for courage and then sent Pilar an email from her business account to her personal Gmail, letting her know I was on to her.

I know what you’ve been up to …

Kisses,

Lily

We talked that one time on the phone when she threatened me, but she’d only referenced the emails with Zachary the *. She never mentioned the other stuff.

And neither did I.

I want to call my father. I want to tell my sisters. But how? Will they believe me and want to help me? Or would they think I’m full of it again? Causing trouble again. I don’t even realize the tears are slipping down my face until I taste them when I lick my lips. A sob escapes me and I grab a pillow, pressing it down hard over my face as I scream into it. My voice is muffled, reflecting exactly how I feel.

Muffled. The real me unseen. Unheard.

Throwing the pillow to the floor with a huff, I climb out of bed and stalk to the bathroom, goose bumps covering my chilled naked skin because of the incessant air conditioning blowing through the rooms. I turn on the shower, twisting the knob to almost scalding hot before I hop in and let the water run over me, washing away my sins, my thoughts, my emotions.

Until I am completely numb.

Chapter twelve

Lily

I FEEL AS GIDDY AS A SCHOOLGIRL—a saying I’ve heard before and always thought sounded stupid. But I’d never been that girl while in school, excited over boys who might like me. I went after what I wanted, no hesitation. I was brash. A brat. A complete rebel who couldn’t bother to give a shit most of the time since the boys all flocked to me.

In my own head, I sound like a shit and that’s because I was. Nothing was a challenge. I think that’s why I took to hacking so quickly. It challenged me, forced me to think in a different way, filled me with the overwhelming need to figure something out. Who knew that it would be intricate code and not fashion or cosmetics? That hacking into someone else’s computer, system, whatever, was also breaking the law gave me an additional thrill. I’ve always been looking for a thrill.

Still am.

Right now, though, for once in my life, I’m giddy. Over a guy. My insides are fizzing with excitement as I enter the open-air lobby of the hotel. A warm tropical breeze flows over me, lifting my hair, and I glance over my shoulder, taking in the view of the ocean, the swaying palm trees, hearing the music playing over the speaker—all of it combined makes me feel like a real tourist.

Not some crazy woman on the run.

“Do you need some help, miss?”

I stop short at the man who appears in front of me, clad in khaki-colored linen pants and a subtle Hawaiian print shirt, the standard uniform of the hotel resort employees. He’s young and handsome, with short, dark hair and flashing brown eyes, a pleasant smile on his face.

I smile in return and shake my head. “Thank you, but I’m fine. I’m supposed to meet a friend in the lobby.”

A knowing look crosses his face. “Ah, are you Lily?”

I blink at him in surprise, wondering how he knew who I was. “Um, yes. I am.”

He offers his arm. “Follow me. Your friend requested that I go in search of you. He’s waiting for you outside.”

Taking the man’s arm, I let him guide me through the grand double doors that lead to the front of the hotel. I glance around the circular drive, watching as a group of people wearing jeans and sweaters and looking like they traveled a great distance unload from a shuttle van. A line of taxis sits on the other side of the drive, eager to take tourists wherever they need to go.

But there’s no Max to be found anywhere.

The hotel employee releases my arm and I turn to him. “I, uh, don’t see my friend anywhere …”

He points behind me. “There he is. Have a good afternoon, miss.”

I whip back around to find a shiny black Jeep parked in front of me, the engine idling, Max sitting in the driver’s seat and watching me with a smile on his face. The passenger-side window rolls down and he ducks his head to meet my gaze. “Wanna go for a ride?” His flirtatious, sexy tone sets a thousand butterflies alight in my stomach.

“I was always told not to take rides from strangers,” I call to him, sending him an innocent look when he scowls at me.

Max exits the car and comes around the back of the Jeep, his long-legged stride eating up the ground until he’s standing directly in front of me. Wearing a dark gray T-shirt and black cargo shorts, he smells fresh and clean, as if he just got out of the shower. I want to say something clever, something funny, but my throat has gone dry, all because he’s so close. My hands literally itch to touch him and my lips tingle, I want to feel his mouth on mine so bad.