Page 111 of Dark Notes

I jog through the house, toweling sweat from my bare chest and neck.

Ivory stands beside the open front door with her back to me, her silhouette haloed by the flush of dawn.

What the fuck is she doing? She’s blocking my view of whoever is on the porch. If it’s someone from school…

“I’m a friend of Emeric’s,” says a familiar feline voice.

In three strides, I reach the door and meet Deb’s vivid hazel eyes. She spent some time styling her light brown bob this morning, her full tits and shapely legs on display in the skimpy dress.

I suspect this visit is a mix of business and pleasure. “You should’ve called.”

“I thought…” Her smirk reveals her dirty thoughts. It slips when she meets Ivory’s glare. “I didn’t know you had company.”

It’s none of her business who I spend my time with. But she’s good people, and I have no reason to be a dick.

Ivory crosses her arms beneath her chest, her boobs threatening to spill out of her tiny camisole. Then she turns her glare on me. “You know her?”

“Yes.” I grip the muscle on the back of her arm and apply a warning pressure. “This is Deb.”

Ivory sets her jaw and widens her stance in cheeky sleep shorts that reveal more ass than they cover. My dick twitches.

“Ivory.” I wait for her to look at me. “Deb and I have a few things to discuss. Go start the coffee.”

She presses her lips flat, studying Deb from beneath her lashes, then storms off toward the kitchen.

I’m tempted to yank those sexy little shorts down and stripe her fucking ass.

The moment she disappears around the corner, Deb steps inside and caresses her hands over my pecs. “God, I’ve missed you.”

I clutch her wrist and guide her back, hardening my expression with a look that makes her posture wither.

She twists her arm until I release her, disappointment creasing her face. “Who is she?”

I close the front door. “She is serious.”

“I see that. She’s also a bit territorial, don’t you think? Where’d you find her?”

“Where isn’t important. What matters is she’s not going anywhere.”

She scans my face, and her shoulders slump. “Jesus. You love her?”

Also none of her business. I turn away and head toward the kitchen, expecting her to follow. “Did you get the recording?”

She catches up with me, dips a hand into her purse, and holds up a flash drive.

I take it from her, hoping to hell I’ll never have to use it.

In the kitchen, Ivory bends over my multi-thousand-dollar Astra coffee machine, squinting at all the switches. When she looks up, her attention locks on Deb, and a muscle bounces in her cheek.

She refocuses on me, her finger blindly, sassily, stabbing at buttons. “This thing doesn’t work.”

I feel my grin all the way to my cock. “Did you put the beans in?”

“Beans?” She stares at the funnel on top. “This?”

Adorable. With my hands on her hips, I scoot her to the side.

Deb settles in at the island behind us. “Nice place.”

The confirmation that she’s never been here should soothe some of Ivory’s bratty jealousy. I sneak a peek at her.

Nope. Ivory’s arms return to a crossed position beneath her heaving tits.

Focusing on the coffee, I level the beans in the scoop, discarding the ones that rise above the rim. It’s an impractical habit, one I enjoy for the pure trivia of it.

“Sixty beans?” Ivory asks.

“Yes.” I share a smile with her, marveling at the richness of her mind. “If I fill the scoop right to the rim.”

Deb watches us from the island. “Why sixty?”

Ivory leans against the counter. “Beethoven counted out sixty beans every time he brewed coffee. He claimed that made the perfect cup.” She raises her eyebrow at me. “He was rigidly meticulous.”

She’s trying to insult me, but I know she loves my attention to detail.

“So…Ivory?” Deb perches her chin on her hand. “Are you a musician, like Emeric?”

“Yes.” Ivory smiles, sweetly. “Emeric and I went to Leopold together.”

What is she up to?

Her grin doesn’t look as sweet when she glares in my direction. “He still has a hard time accepting that I graduated with higher honors than he did.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I’m going to welt her so raw she sees triple.

With the coffee brewed and poured, Deb spends the next twenty minutes outlining her adulterous affair with the dean’s husband, Howard Rivard. She’s been fucking Mr. Rivard for weeks, without his knowledge of the recordings or suspicion of blackmail. It’s more than enough.

Ivory refuses to join us at the island, maintaining her stubborn position against the back counter. During Deb’s accounts, Ivory’s expression morphs between shock and disgust, all while maintaining a heavy glare of antagonism.

Deb seems oblivious, her attention completely focused on me. “For an old guy, he’s really quite virile.” She winks at me. “But he’s got nothing on you, Sir.”