Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(21)

We all had our own moral qualms. Mine always dealt with sensuality and sex. Katherine’s was in her cunning, devious scheming. Lewis’s was his obsessions and how quickly he could destroy them. Lark had long since relinquished that side of her personality, but at one point, she could manipulate people better than even Katherine. Better than even me.

But Rowe. Rowe’s had everything to do with technology. And the way people used it and how he could use it to bring others down.

“And anyway, no one can block me on Crew.”

Put that way, it was mildly terrifying. I was glad he was on my side.

“I don’t know if it’s ethical.”

“Did you want moral advice or tech support?” Rowe asked. He leaned back in his chair and stroked Totle’s head. “Morality isn’t really my area of expertise, Professor.”

I wavered on a precipice. Did I give in and find out what she was doing here? Or wait around in perpetuity, wondering?

Rowe shrugged and turned away from me, back toward the computer. “I’m too damn curious now. You can watch over my shoulder or not.”

His fingers flew across the keys. And I knew that he was giving me an out. He was going to do it either way. So, I might as well find out. And I struggled with my own moral issues. They’d gotten me to this place with Natalie to begin with. But fuck, I needed to know.

“All right. Here’s her account,” he said.

I leaned in and watched the last year of her life scroll past on the screen. It took about a minute.

“What the hell?”

He pulled up a side screen that featured her activity. “Looks like she’s gone dormant. The account is active, but she’s not on it. Her last sign-in was several months ago.”

“Why would she do that?”

He didn’t say anything. We both knew the reason anyway. Me.

“She’s added a handful of connections. Let me check those out.” He skimmed through the new people she’d added to her account. “Almost all of these are from Charleston. One lives in Savannah and one in New York City. Does the name Gillian Kent sound familiar?”

I shook my head. “Never heard of her.”

Click.

We entered Gillian’s profile.

“She’s an editor for Warren,” Rowe said.

My eyes narrowed further in confusion. “Why would Natalie be friends with a Warren editor? Do you think she published a book?”

Rowe pulled up a second screen and searched to see if there was any news of Natalie publishing, but it came up empty. “Doesn’t look like it.” He went back to Gillian’s profile and did a cursory scan. “But…”

He zoomed in on a picture she’d posted yesterday at Club 360. It was a full party with a giant sign that read, Congratulations, Olivia. I scanned the picture but didn’t see Natalie or Jane in attendance.

“Who the hell is Olivia?” I asked.

Click.

We entered the page that Gillian had tagged for Olivia Davies.

I froze when I saw the shadowy headshot on the page. The woman was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and wide sunglasses. She wasn’t quite looking at the camera, but she was smirking while remaining in the shadow. It was clever. No one would be able to guess who was in that picture.

Except for the hair.

Even if I couldn’t pick out her face in a lineup, I knew that hair anywhere.

Silvery-white locks that fell in long tresses to her waist.

Hair I’d run my fingers through and grabbed in fistfuls and worshipped.

Natalie was Olivia Davies.

“Whoa,” Rowe said. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Click.

The book cover filled the screen. Bet on It in stark white letters against a blue background with the words Based on a true story in a corner. I pored over the attached synopsis. My eyebrows rose and rose as I continued to read.

“What the fuck?” I breathed.

This sounded familiar. Beyond familiar. It sounded like I’d lived this.

Holy fuck.

“Looks like she wrote about us,” Rowe mused.

“Fucking fuck, fuck,” I spat.

He scrolled through the page and then clicked over to Amazon. “And it’s got great reviews. Dude, I wonder what my character is like!”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You wonder what your character is like?”

Rowe shrugged. “We already know what she’s going to say about you.”

Yeah. We sure as hell did.

I stormed across the room. If I’d been at my place, I probably would have shattered something. As it was, I was this close to letting the characteristic Kensington fury boil over, setting it loose on Rowe’s monitors. I needed to rein it in, control it. Figure out why this set me on fire and compartmentalize it.

“She wrote about us,” I growled.

“Yeah, dude.”

I put my hands down on his desk and leaned over. “Why am I even surprised? She’s a writer. That’s what she does. She puts her own experiences onto paper. And who can blame her for taking a pen name when Katherine Van Pelt would skin her alive if she found out?”

Rowe nodded. “Could be worse.”

“How?” I snarled.

“She could have forgotten you.”

I stilled. My blue eyes lifted to meet Rowe’s. “What do you mean?”