Page 19 of Cruelly Fated (Princes of Avari #1)

Seventeen

ALLIE

T he Uber dropped me off beside Marley’s cruiser. I climbed the steps to the house, edgy as hell. I hadn’t expected to see him today.

“Officer?” I called as I stepped inside.

He came from the hallway, deep worry lines etched across his forehead.

“Ms. Robinson called me,” he said, his voice tight. “Said she was supposed to come by and look through clothes, but you weren’ t answering. Then she noticed your car was still out front. I rushed over. Worst case scenarios ran havoc in my brain. Where were you?”

Oh gods.

“I’m so sorry. I forgot she was coming…” I pulled out my phone. Three missed calls lit up on the screen. “Ugh, I put it on silent.” Guilt twisted in my gut. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

What scenarios was he talking about?

I thought of the most dire outcome. “I would never do that,” I said, swallowing through a tight throat.

“I know, but… Is the car giving you trouble again?”

“No, it’s fine.” I bit the inside of my cheek, debating how much to tell him. “Have you found out why Pete was placed in Avari Penitentiary?” I chose deflection instead.

With a hand braced on his knee, he lowered himself onto the couch, his piercing gaze meeting mine.

“You’ve been visiting Kyon Voltaire.” Not a question. “May I remind you he’s a criminal? He tried to assassinate his own father. I know he’s protecting Pete, but Allie, it’s time you start putting yourself first.”

“What do you mean?”

“Leave Avari. You can find decent work—art gigs, painting commissions—in cities where they don’t know who you are.”

Where they don’t know who I am?

I crossed my arms, heat prickling behind my eyes. Did he mean because I was low fae with a relative in prison? Might as well call me a criminal, too, then. Or worse… I sucked in a shaky breath. Was this about Mom? When they argued during their relationship, it was always about her job.

What’s even worse, he was suggesting I leave Grandpa behind. The only family I had left.

“Get out!”

“Allie, you must see some truth in what I’m saying—”

I swung the door open and stood there, waiting.

Marley let out a heavy sigh, then marched toward me. He paused at the threshold, hand on the frame. “I only want what’s best for you,” he said quietly.

I refused to meet his gaze. He exited without another word. I shut the door behind him and rested my forehead against it. Argh. How could he have ever suggested that I leave Grandpa behind? I kicked the door and then let a few tears fall. I simply had no energy for more.

“Here, you need some under your eyes,” Margie, the dancer with a stalker problem, suggested. She brought her concealer to the back and made me sit on a stack of crates. With a tiny droplet, she dabbed under each eye, then smoothed it in with her fingertip. Stepping back, she studied my face .

“Much better. Now you won’t scare off your tippers.” She grinned and bounced away.

Lance leaned against the wall, scowling at me.

“Alright. Alright, I was packing all night. Happy?” I dusted off my hands and fluffed my hair.

Margie was right. I needed high tips tonight.

Especially since it was a fae holiday, and all food and hospitality joints raked in cash, even on a Monday.

The only Monday of the year Larry opened the club’s doors.

“You moving out?”

“It’s a long story, but…yeah. The house is too big, you know? I’m downsizing,” I lied. No way was I letting news of the foreclosure spread and heap more shame onto Grandpa.

“So where you going?”

“Small apartment. I’ll invite you and your fiancée over once I’m settled.” Another lie, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell the truth, that I’d be spending the night in my car. I patted his arm and headed toward the floor to do my usual pre-opening sweep. The cleaning crew tended to miss things.

I had just set chairs down when a shadow appeared behind me, and I gasped.

“Easy there,” Larry drawled, his repugnant fingers brushing my lower back as he scooted beside me. I hadn’t pegged him as stealthy, but then again, I’d never wanted to know anything about him.

“I heard about the, ahem, unfortunate house foreclosure,” he whispered.

Every muscle in my body locked. How the hell did he know ?

“Don’t worry, I’m excellent at keeping secrets.” His voice dipped into something slimy. “And since you’re in need of a place, I’d like to offer you the guest studio upstairs. If you agree to headline at the new club, I might even waive the rent. Long-term.”

He leered at me like he’d already won.

I clenched my jaw because otherwise, it might’ve dropped. Larry had nerve. And an ego so inflated it needed its own zip code.

“I’ve got a place to stay for now. And for the other part of your offer…I’m still figuring out my next steps. I’ll get back with you,” I said, swallowing hard. “If that’s okay?”

I couldn’t accept anything from this man, not even one night in that studio. Accepting it would mean giving in to his influence and giving him power over me.

Larry clucked his tongue. “Oh, well, I’ll be waiting for you to come to me,” he said with an unsettling glint in his eyes.

I returned to the back, head spinning.

“What was that about?” Lance asked.

“Honestly?” I exhaled. “No clue.”

Lance had insisted I leave early tonight, which meant midnight, so I could get to my new place.

My jam-packed car hadn’t gone unnoticed in the employee parking lot.

Surprisingly, Larry didn’t mind my leaving early either.

The tips were decent, but I couldn’t fake another smile or tolerate one more patron’s suggestive comment.

The lack of sleep the night before didn’t help with my short fuse either.

I slipped behind the steering wheel and let my head fall against the backrest. After a deep breath, I reached for the ignition—then froze. A note lay tucked in the cup holder. I unfolded the paper, brows pinching together.

First off, don’t blame me, your car doors were unlocked. You should be checking your back seat before you get in. Safety first.

My stomach plummeted. I twisted around violently, using my phone’s flashlight to scan the back of my car. Racks of clothes and trash bags I’d packed cluttered the space, leaving no room for anyone to hide. Still—why the hell would someone leave that kind of note? Was this some twisted joke?

I turned back and read the rest:

Kyon insists you to stay at his place until you figure things out. It’s empty. No one will bother you there. Key’s in the cup holder.

Your favorite vampire with a V.

P.S. 1700 Plaza Square, Suite 49

The Plaza? I’d always assumed he lived in the Voltaire mansion, but he was a grown man. He probably owned several places across Avari. Should I even consider it ?

I retrieved a single golden key with a dragon embossed on the top. It had an interesting design—flat, circular head and a hollow cylindrical shaft with intricate cutouts. I twirled it between my fingers, then sighed and dropped it back into the cup holder.

Who was I kidding? Taking him up on the offer was out of the question. I didn’t belong in the world of Avari’s elite socialites.

I reversed and skidded around a corner, hitting a pothole still brimming with rainwater from earlier today.

I’d left Grandpa’s house at noon, which the bank letter stated was the time the house would no longer belong to us.

But as I was leaving, no one from the bank had shown up yet.

A tiny part of me hoped there’d been a delay.

I’d love to sleep in my own bed one last time.

As I neared the house, a larger foreclosure sign by the curb glared at me.

Damn it. The bank had officially claimed it.

I eased into park, leaving the unreliable engine running in case it decided to sputter again, and stepped out.

Darkness shrouded the house, except for the porch light someone had left on.

The single bulb illuminated a thick metal bar and a heavy lock now bolted across the front door.

I shook my head. Unless they also secured the back door and patched the decaying wall in the sunroom, that lock wasn’t going to stop squatters from getting in.

A sniffle escaped me. I wasn’t just leaving the house behind.

I was leaving the memories. The furniture I couldn’t possibly take with me.

Sure, it was chipped, frayed, and decades out of style, but it was ours.

It was Mom’s. Grandpa’s. Mine. Even the little trinkets I had to leave behind made my chest tighten.

At least I’d managed to coax Ms. Robinson to come by last night.

Mom’s beautiful dresses had found a new home.

I backpedaled off the lawn and scrambled behind the wheel, shaking. A sob slipped out before I could stop it.

Coming here had been a mistake.

Loneliness had never rattled me before, but now, it pressed in on all sides. I craved touch. A hug. Someone telling me it would all be okay. Like Kyon had after the art institute canceled my interview. He’d been so gentle and unexpectedly charming.

I wiped at my tears, a laugh bubbling out. I remembered the concern in his eyes, the way he genuinely cared about how I was doing, and how he made me smile even when I tried to hide it until I got back to my car. Could his place make me feel safe like that again?

I glanced around the car. There wasn’t even space to recline the seat, let alone get any sleep. And somehow…accepting Kyon’s offer didn’t feel dirty the way Larry’s had. It didn’t come with strings.

Half an hour later, I was cruising through the Plaza, feeling completely out of place in my beat-up Honda.

Limos, luxury sedans, and sleek sports cars veered around me.

Apparently, traffic laws didn’t apply to the rich.

But knowing my luck, I’d get pulled over and possibly tossed in jail.

Then my family would officially qualify as a criminal enterprise.