Read Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion #3) for Free Online Page A

family.”
    “Defamation. It’s cut and dry. But he could claim you wanted these movies made, then it becomes a game of he said she said.” And it will. I’ve seen enough of these relationship battles play out in court. It never ends well—every side a loser.
    Her head bows with defeat.
    “Nevertheless—consider it done.” I tap my fingers over her computer before sliding it back. I won’t need it. I can work a search engine with the best of them, and I have a feeling I’ll be pouring over footage tonight. A spear of guilt knifes me at the thought. I’m the exact kind of pervert Kennedy doesn’t want watching this garbage—the kind that jacks off in the shower with those videos replaying behind my eyelids. Little does she know that’s been going on for years now. I didn’t need a play by play.
    “Excuse me.” Zoey pops her head in and looks from me to Kennedy with an eye of suspicion. Zoey has made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that she is ready and willing to gift me her body at the drop of my pants. She’s tempted me far beyond the measures any normal man should bear, not that I’m not normal, but my heart and all that my pants have to offer belong to Kennedy. At least that’s what I’ve convinced myself of. Now it’s time to convince Kennedy of the very same thing.
    “Warren is here.” Zoey wrinkles her nose as if he disgusted her, but I know for a fact she’s slept with him on more than one occasion. Not that Warren shouldn’t disgust people. His story is he got wasted and tried to have sex with his then-girlfriend, Reese, Kennedy’s stepsister. Her story, per her statement, is that he stormed her bedroom drunk and forced his fingers in places they shouldn’t have been just before trying to get his dick in on the action. Ace threw him out the window. Actually they flew out together, but I’m pretty sure Ace was trying to break Warren’s neck. I know I would’ve if anyone tried this with Kennedy, and they have. Keith Stearns better watch his soon-to-be-broken neck when I’m around.
    “Tell Warren I’ll speak with him later.”
    “You’ll speak with me now.” He barrels in past Zoey, who I’m starting to think needs a Taser to subdue the aggressive clientele. “I get a fucking ding on my parole for throwing a house party? What the hell kind of bullshit is that?”
    I cut a bored look to him. We share no familiar features, no familiar mannerisms, and, for sure, no familiarity in general. Warren and I didn’t exactly hang out whenever I popped into town. He’s always had a touch of douchebag in him from as far back as I can remember. I used to wonder how much of that was because of his looks and how much his personality actually played into it. Warren is your stereotypical preppy—life-gifted-on-a-silver-platter type of an ass, but it turns out he’s got the ego to go along with his bank account so no worries to anyone who might judge him solely on the smirk he wears while driving his Ferrari. They’re most likely right. In truth, I’m the one with the Ferrari. Warren drives a Maserati.
    “My guess is a public nuisance complaint. You should really check with your old man before you make any more boneheaded moves. Like breathing.”
    Kennedy openly laughs at the barb, and a twinge of guilt rides through me. I shouldn’t throw Warren under the bus so easily, and in front of two women no less. It has to suck having your balls handed to you every day when you remember why you’re no longer on the Yeats rowing team, at Yeats University in general. I’m guessing it sucks to be Warren McCarthy right about now.
    “Public nuisance? I’ll give them a public nuisance.” He kicks my wastebasket, and the room thunders with the crash. “Don’t just sit there. Throw some money at this, and make it go away. I need my record clean as shit. I’ve applied to Port for the spring.”
    “Clean as shit it will be,” I assure him. With catchphrases like that, he’s fighting Solomon for the