“What? Why? That shit is important. Hey, Cassanova!” I called as I heard feet on the stairs again.
“Yeah?” he asked, brows raised.
“Do you want crotch gremlins?”
“Is that… is that another kind of threat?” he asked, brows scrunching, looking over at Raven for help as she tried to hold in a laugh.
“She means children,” Raven clarified.
“Oh. Yeah. Of course. I’m really close to my niece and nephew. I would love a few of my own. Why? Are you plotting ways to turn them against me for stealing Rebecca away from you?” he asked, smirking. And right then and there, I knew he was worthy of her.
“He calls you by your government name?” I asked, grimacing. “Ew.”
“You’re the only person who calls me Raven,” she reminded me.
We’d given each other nicknames when we were kids, deciding our real names weren’t cool enough.
She was Raven because of her beautiful hair.
I was Wasp.
Because I could sting once.
And then keep on stinging.
“Alright, ladies. I’m out. Are you sticking around for a while, Wasp?”
“And have to be constantly nauseated by your lovey-doveyness?” I asked, smiling. “No. I have a job, actually. I’m heading out after I leave here.”
“I know you have a busy calendar, but we expect you at the wedding,” he reminded me.
“The wedding? I will be here the night before to give Raven a bachelorette party she will never forget. It will make the antics in that Hangover movie seem tame.”
“I don’t doubt that in the least,” he agreed, nodding. “So long as you have her at the church the next morning. And conscious enough to say her vows, I have no problem with that. I have to get back. Love you, Beccs,” he called, eyes warm. “Fear you, Wasp,” he added, giving me a salute before heading out.
“Okay. Fine,” I admitted. “He’s perfect.”
“He is, isn’t he?” she agreed, hearts in her eyes. “I’m excited to start a life with him.”
I would never tell her this.
But I was terrified to start a life on my own.
But there was no denying that was exactly what I was going to need to do.
For better or worse.
ONE
Wasp
“So what is it that you do, Wendy?” the man at the bar asked me, using the name I used for all my marks. Wendy was a sweet, accessible girl-next-door, or an uber-hot red-headed sex goddess when necessary as well. She was a woman of all cloths.
What is it that I do, Kenny—whose real name I happen to know is Matthew?
I make men fall in love with me. Then I cut their legs out from under them.
And you’re next on the chopping block.
“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” I told him, knowing from his wife that he liked the good girls, the ones he thought he could corrupt. Like she had once been.
That was why I kept my natural blonde hair color, but tamed it more, kept the makeup to a minimum, put on a sweet, unassuming floral sundress with a little white sweater just for the extra kick to the nuts.
He was an easy mark.
I had been in this for years.
I could spot them a mile away.
The I never lived up to my full potential as a human being, so I am going to live out my childish teenage fantasies of being a stud while I have a loving wife and a handful of kids at home guys.
They were butter.
I was a hot knife.
And I didn’t even need him to fall in love with me.
The wife knew he’d been screwing around for the better part of a year, but her PI had never been able to get a good enough angle to prove it. I was just the bait. Who happened to have a room facing the parking lot on the first floor. Where the PI was waiting in his car with a good camera.
They didn’t need much.
Him naked.
Me with some of my clothes off.
Make it look really compromising.
I could cut out before it went beyond a little kissing and boob and ass grabbing.
And collect a nice little paycheck to stick into my savings.
I’d learned to get a little more serious about socking money away, about properly investing in my future, when Raven married Roman, and I came face-to-face with the reality of a retirement plan that didn’t include the two of us getting a nice little apartment in a busy city, having the time of our lives living the good life.
Also, without Raven, that meant I needed a hell of a lot more money to be able to pull off that plan without her input.
So as much as I loved the long con of making a man fall for me, these shorter ones were paying me more and faster these days.
It would be shocking to the normal woman to know just how many ‘devoted husbands’ ended up fucking around behind their wives’ backs.