Normally, Kell was the first one to arrive for one of our sibling dates, but I was able to arrive ten minutes early that day. I’d gotten a mani-pedi that morning at Betsy’s Nails, one of the hottest nail salons in Miami. It was expensive and I never could have afforded it on my own budget, but Roland surprised me the night prior with a gift card to the salon and told me to enjoy myself.
For the record, Betsy’s was hard to get into. Betsy French was one of the best nail techs in Miami and she was known for doing the nails of celebrities and big-time influencers. I don’t know how he did it, but Roland had gotten me a morning appointment by pulling a few strings, and it was a delightful experience. Fortunately, the salon was only a five-minute drive to the coffee shop Kell and I planned to meet at, so I didn’t have to cancel or reschedule.
The bell chimed at the door and I looked up, spotting my brother strolling in with a pink gift bag in hand.
“Mira,” Kell said after sitting in the seat across from me.
I had my arms folded but my eyes were on him. “Kellan.”
He laughed, placing the gift bag on the table. “Oh, are we using full names now?”
“I may or may not still be upset about the last time we met.”
“I know. Which is why I brought you an apology gift.”
I side-eyed him and then lowered my gaze to the gift bag. He grinned that same annoying grin he always gave when he was being sincere, and I fought a smile, dropping my arms to reach for the bag.
“It better be something good,” I muttered, placing the bag on my lap and then smirking.
“I’m glad you finally responded to one of my texts last week,” he said as I dug into the bag and shuffled the white tissue paper around.
“Yeah, well, I was feeling good, so I figured I’d at least say hello.”
“Feeling good? You mean about being with Roland Graham?”
I looked up, frowning. “How do you know about him?”
“Who doesn’t know, Samira? You’re all over the magazines. Publicity is my job. I work with celebrities, and trust me when I tell you, this is not a good look for you, but it is for him.”
“What are you talking about?” I pulled my hand out of the gift bag, forgetting about whatever was inside it.
“Samira . . . you can’t tell me you think being with that guy is a good thing?” Kell was smiling, but his eyes were serious. I didn’t understand what he was getting at, but clearly I was missing something.
“Kell, he’s a famous golfer who happens to like me. So what?”
“He’s not just some famous golfer,” he retorted, losing the smile. “Shit, Mira, have you even looked him up? Read about him?”
“I’ve googled him,” I countered.
“And yet you’re still with him?”
“I—Kell, what are you getting upset for? I’ve had plenty of boyfriends and some of them were super shitty and you were never this overbearing about them.”
“What did you find out when you looked him up?” Kell asked.
“I don’t know.” I folded my arms again. “I didn’t get past all the articles about him having a new love interest, which was about me, I’m sure.”
“So you didn’t dig deep? Learn more about him? Because the Samira I know wouldn’t be so keen about being with him if she knew his truth.”
“What is there to dig about? What great big truth is there to know, Kell?”
“He was married before.”
“I know that. I’m not an idiot. He told me he had a wife who passed away.”
“Yeah, Mira.” Kell pressed his lips, and his eyebrows drew together as he sat back against the back of the chair. I knew that look, and had a feeling that whatever he was about to say next wasn’t going to be good. “And do you know that he killed her?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What?” I shrieked, sitting forward. “What are you talking about, Kellan? Why would you say something like that?”
“I’m not just saying it, Mira! There were stories circulating around years ago of people saying he killed his wife. They never could prove that he did it—not enough evidence, apparently—but everyone has this hunch that he did. The case had too many holes, didn’t make sense.”
“I—what? That’s ridiculous! He would have told me about something as serious as that!” I sat back in my chair, chewing on my thumbnail, thinking back to the first night I met Roland. I didn’t know who he was, or that he even golfed, but he was at Lola’s party, so I did know he was important in some kind of way and that he clearly had money. I found out about his deceased wife through him, but he didn’t exactly go into detail about her death, and I didn’t ask how she’d passed because it felt too soon to get into such a heavy topic. When I googled him, a part of me thought to look deeper, especially since he’d mentioned there were rumors floating around about him, but I didn’t think to bother because fuck rumors. Everyone had a rumor floating around about them somewhere, but that didn’t make them true.