Cursed Read Online Free

a conversation without quoting an eighties movie.”
    â€œIt’s part of my charm.”
    â€œAll of you, shut up!” Lille ordered. “Yes, he’s lying on the floor masturbating. He’s naked. I’d like someone to come and remove him. Preferably now, because if he tries to get up from the floor, I’m going to knock him unconscious.”
    â€œShe will.” Mary nodded. “In San Francisco she beat a vendor who was bothering me with one of those big umbrellas.”
    The corner of John’s mouth twitched. “Sorry I missed that.”
    â€œIt was awesome,” Mary agreed with a grin. “It was so violent, but she’s Lille . . . so it was like watching a really angry goddess or something. Totally badass. People on the street clapped.”
    â€œI bet.” John laughed, then looked at the floor and shook his head, grimacing. The man had finished. “This is fucking gross.”
    Hours later, the police finally left, thankfully taking the naked man with them.
    â€œThat was awesome,” Kim concluded, watching the recording on her camera screen.
    Jordan shook his head in disgust, glaring at her small form. Lille wondered if the young man was going to do anything about his infatuation or if he was going to let the girl continue to torture him.
    â€œMax wants to know if we’re okay. He heard about what happened,” Jordan informed everyone.
    Lille glanced down at her phone. Nothing. She hadn’t answered him earlier, but hell, she’d been a little busy. She was tempted to pace—someone had broken in, thankfully a fairly harmless someone, but it was unnerving, to say the least. She’d asked John to put bars on the windows. She’d thought all the attention to the store was worth it, but this . . .
    She wasn’t going to think about it, or let some lunatic make her run away. She straightened and channeled her best Bette Davis, raising an eyebrow at Jordan. “And how did Max hear about it?”
    Jordan shrugged. “Small town.”
    â€œI told him,” Mary volunteered. “He asked if you were okay.”
    â€œDid he?” Lille did her best to seem unimpressed, but she felt a small secret thrill. No one had ever worried about her before, except her mother, and that had been a long time ago. She hated that there was something to worry about.
    Mary gave her a prim expression. “You should call him.”
    â€œWhy?” Lille pouted. “We’re going to the pub, aren’t we?”
    â€œAre we?”
    â€œYes,” Lille decided.
    â€œAre you going to change?” Mary pointed at the leather skater dress Lille was wearing with a pair of spike-embellished Christian Louboutins that she’d found at a consignment shop in San Francisco.
    â€œWhy would I do that?” Lille purred, removing her red lipstick from her purse.
    â€œOh, dear,” Mary murmured.
    Kim cheered. “Hell yeah.”
    John drove them in his convertible Mercedes, which amused Lille. Paint it cream and it would be the twin of her car. Lille and Kim sat in the back while John and Mary sat in the front, arguing about what to play on the radio. A small wooden figurine of a mermaid hung from the rearview mirror. Mary had mentioned that John whittled in his spare time, but Lille hadn’t seen any of his work before—she wouldn’t have expected such delicacy.
    Lille crossed her legs, running her fingers over her Wolford fishnet tights. She felt a little like a knight going into battle without armor—there was no plan to cause a scene, no job to do, she wasn’t wearing a killer fetish outfit. She was just going to hang out with friends . . . and Kim. It was—mostly—normal. It reminded her of the life she’d had with Paul, just a little, and that hadn’t worked out well at all.
    She tapped her fingers on her bag and glanced at Kim—or rather, she glanced at the