Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(63)

“If something happens,” Lo breathes as he pushes me back. “Run to Connor’s limo. Don’t wait for me, okay?”

“No.” My eyes bug. “Lo, please—”

“This kid owes us forty grand,” Matt sneers, turning the spotlight back on Lo and off Connor. Why would Connor even help us? It may damage his reputation beyond repair.

“I’m not giving you a cent,” Lo spits. “How the hell was I supposed to know the liquor was off limits? There wasn’t a sign.”

“It was locked,” says the blue-bandana cousin.

Lo opens his mouth again, and I pinch his arm, shooting him a glare. We need to leave, preferably together. He clenches his jaw and thankfully shuts up.

Matt steers his heated glower back to Connor. “Do you think we’re going to overlook this because you’re Connor Cobalt? You realize that anyone else would be blacklisted by now.” Oooh, blacklisted. Lo and I are probably crossed off all lists in the affluent Philly circle. If it wasn’t for Connor, we wouldn’t have even passed the doors.

“Blacklist me, then,” Connor says. “This is a terrible party. You didn’t even bother to serve food.”

Matt’s head jerks back in surprise. “You’re going to choose them over us?”

Connor nods, his muscles tensing. “Yep. Let’s see what we have here. Net worth of maybe”—he scans the mansion behind me—“twenty-five million combined.” He points to Lo and me. “Calloway and Hale. That’s every fucking soda can in your house and all your little nephews and nieces’ diapers. Billions. So yeah, I’m going to side with the two people that make your inheritances look like chump change.”

I gape, not expecting any of that, mostly about Connor being our friend in a few days. He collects people, and Lo and I are gold nuggets in his jar. It’s been so long that anyone has stuck up for us that I slide past the superficiality in his motives. Having an ally is nice. Desperate, yes, but no one said Lo and I are perfect either.

Matt and the other Ninja Turtles look stupefied, trying to process our wealth and our last names. Then he laughs in cruel amusement. “Well then, I suppose with your means you’ll have no problem taking that pacifier out of your ass and reimbursing us for what you drank.”

Lo’s expression grows dark. I put my hand in his, hoping he’s not about to be belligerent and argumentative. I trust Lo to stand down with me here, but once I leave, anything can happen.

“Fuck you,” Lo curses.

Connor cuts in before one of the cousins raises a fist to make Lo pay it. “Will your uncle really care? Forty grand is nothing.”

“He drank a car, Connor,” Matt says in disbelief. “That’s more than some people make in a goddamn year! Yeah, he’ll be pissed, and Diaper Rash over there can easily afford it. Pay up, or we’re going to find collateral until you grab your fucking checkbook.” They eye me, and I back up into the cold stone. Lo glances over his shoulder, all sharp lines, and when he feels that I’m safe, he steps forward.

No! I lunge and grab his wrist.

“Lily—”

“He can’t pay it,” I defend.

“Lily,” Lo warns. “Don’t.”

I seal my lips, not about to spill Lo’s personal life to strangers. His father put him on a stringent allowance, tying up his bank account and pooling in money on a monthly basis. He supervises every transaction, calling Lo when there are any big purchases. That four thousand-dollar champagne at the Italian restaurant plus his other expenses wiped him clean this month.

And if he overdraws, Jonathan Hale will throw a fit.

“You really expect me to believe that, sweetheart?” Matt says. No, he wouldn’t.

Connor, for the first time, looks concerned. He keeps edging backwards, glancing around to find reinforcements in case this gets ugly.

“I can—I can do it. But my checkbook is in the car with my purse,” I say. If I have to take the heat for a forty grand charge, then I will. I can easily blame it on a dress for the Christmas Charity Gala, citing that I stained the one I already bought. The only problem: I didn’t bring any money. With no pockets and an affinity for ditching purses, I left the house with nothing but my plastic blades and knee-high leather boots.

“Matt!” A tall, tanned guy jogs over to us. He wears a green leather jacket and carries a bow with a quiver of arrows strung to his back. I recognize him as the green-clad superhero from the sidelines. Dark green paint streaks across his eyes like a mask and disheveled brown hair accentuates the hard lines in his jaw. He looks manly, powerful and pissed. His costume probably helps, but I have a feeling the self-confidence is all him.

He stops a few feet from our stand-off with the Ninja Turtles and focuses on the purple-bandana cousin. I’m ready for him to shake his fists at Matt, threaten him with his strong build, something that Lo has avoided.

The green-clad superhero says, “Hey, I just talked to some girl. She said Michael wants you guys to come in the house. He needs you to break up a fight in the basement. They’re knocking into shit.”

My mouth slowly falls. So…he’s not here to help us. I’m an idiot.

Matt rubs the back of his neck, his eyes flickering to us before he nods to the other Turtles. “Go. I’ll take care of this.” The cousins sprint off towards the pool.