Destructively Mine (Webs We Weave, 2, Band 2) - Softcover

Buch 2 von 3: Webs We Weave

Ritchie, Krista; Ritchie, Becca

 
9780593549575: Destructively Mine (Webs We Weave, 2, Band 2)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593549570 ISBN 13: 9780593549575
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2025

Inhaltsangabe

FROM THE AUTHORS OF THE TIKTOK SENSATION, ADDICTED TO YOU!

AN INSTANT USA TODAY BESTSELLER!

Ex-grifter Phoebe Graves’ new life threatens to come crashing down around her in the next unputdownable novel from the New York Times bestselling authors of the Addicted series.

As the daughter of a con artist, Phoebe Graves only knew a life of swindling the rich until her best friend and fellow grifter, Hailey Tinrock, proposed an idea to start a new, honest life in a wealthy college town of Connecticut. Once there, they decided to leave behind their deceitful tricks and be truthful for once. But you know what they say about best intentions. . . .

While Phoebe is fake-dating Jake Waterford, the third-born son to an uber-wealthy and influential family, she’s actually dating and falling deeper in love with Brayden “Rocky” Tinrock—Hailey’s older brother. To make matters more complicated, Phoebe’s mother shows up out of the blue with conniving match-making designs of her own.

Her mother’s arrival threatens to unravel Phoebe’s plans. To keep her love, her friends, and her newfound happiness, Phoebe will have to return to her old games . . . and win.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

​​Krista and Becca Ritchie are New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors and identical twins—one a science nerd, the other a comic-book geek—but with their shared passion for writing, they combined their mental powers as kids and have never stopped telling stories. They love superheroes, flawed characters, and soul-mate love.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

ONE

Phoebe

NOW

I'm so far from normal, I should probably give up on figuring out the true meaning of the word. But what's happening right now in the dining room of a snobby country club with hundred-grand membership dues-it's not even my normal. The normal of a so-called "daughter" of a con artist-raised to rip off egocentric assholes and board fancy yachts and live lavishly until the money runs dry. Then do it all over again.

No, this right here is not my normal at all.

It's bizarre.

Terrifying, even.

My mom is in Victoria, Connecticut, with her best friend, Addison. And they're pretending to be fucking matchmakers. Probably to matchmake me and Rocky for a payout. They're here without warning. Without a text or a smoke signal.

And to pile it on, my mom might not be my mom.

It's been a literal day since I learned that we might not be related. She might've kidnapped me and my brothers.

Addison most definitely isn't biologically Trevor's mother. So where the hell did he come from?

There is a foundational rule to what we do. We deceive other people. We never deceive each other. Yet, our parents lied to all six of us.

They conned us.

I didn't realize how mad I was, not until this moment. Seeing them here. Facing them. An inferno builds in my lungs and combines with extreme levels of unease. I'm crawling out of my skin, but no one can see the alarms going off in my entire body, telling me to evacuate from this fucked-up situation. To find Rocky. Find Hailey. Find my brothers.

While I stare right at Elizabeth Graves and Addison Tinrock, the country club doesn't fall hushed. No spotlight is shining down on little ole me-the blue-haired, drama-filled server at Victoria Country Club.

The midafternoon lunch crowd has packed the dining room, and everyone is absorbed in their own social sphere. Pickleball-clad ladies chitter-chatter as they stab forks into shrimp Louie salads. Full-bellied laughter bellows from rich men over their tuna tartare. Clinks of silverware on plates sound obnoxiously loud, and flames roar in a fireplace behind my mom.

I'm the only one who knows two con artists have just slithered their way into this town's cracked foundation, and they're going to sink their poisonous fangs into someone.

Not me.

They won't trick me?

My pulse won't slow. Because that's never been a question before. Now all I have are furious questions for them. The most pressing one: Why the hell are you here?

"It's so nice to meet you, Phoebe," my mom says with a charismatic smile. She brushes her blonde hair off her shoulder and extends a hand to me. "I'm Isla Rivers." Aka Elizabeth Graves. Do I even call her Mom?

Do I want to?

Not really. She doesn't deserve that, does she? Even if I'm biologically her daughter. Even if I am a triplet with Nova and Oliver. Even if this is all true-she's an accomplice to something nefarious with Trevor. That makes her just as guilty for duping us.

What else could she be hiding? Would she ever admit to the truth? Can I trust anything she ever says?

My head spins, and I wish I were holding a serving tray right now-something that'd give me an out from shaking hands with a . . . devil? I don't know what she is.

I always figured if my mom were a devil, then so was I. The Graves and Tinrocks-we were all just a merry little gang of heathens in hell together.

I loved it that way.

Everything is off-kilter now. My world is tipping at the axis.

I shake her hand and try to throttle myself out of this hot stupor. "Sorry, I missed what Stella said about you being . . . professionals?"

In my peripheral, I catch Stella bristling in her Chanel getup. "It's Mrs. Fitzpatrick, sweets." Her tight, acidic smile deserves one in return, and I could force one back-but I like this job.

I want to keep this job. And I'm clearly not on a first-name basis with Mrs. My Shit Doesn't Stink. I am still just the lowly server who happens to be "dating" town aristocracy, and Stella is the rich best friend of Claudia Waterford.

And Claudia-she's the mother of my fake boyfriend, Jake Waterford. Oh, and they all despise the idea of a Phoebe and Jake union. Which should be fine. Just fine. Because today, I was supposed to be ending this fake dating scheme so I can truthfully (and finally) date the guy I actually love.

Rocky.

Now, whatever boat I've boarded is being capsized, and I'm used to it. I'm also used to having backup-where people wait in a life raft and pull me from the rough ocean. Then we flee unseen together.

None of them are here. I am alone.

Drowning.

Leave, Phoebe.

"She can be a little slow," Stella tells Elizabeth into a sip of mimosa. They're all appraising me like I'm a pet project. Great, I've become the fascination of the bored elite.

"This is Wendy St. James." Elizabeth motions to Addison at her side. "We own the northeast's most prominent and exclusive matchmaking service. Eros. It's designed for individuals who require a similar lifestyle to their own."

Similar lifestyle is code for the rich just wanting to date rich. Tempering my feelings, I plaster on the world's fakest smile and ask, "And you think I fall into that category?"

"Absolutely not," Stella answers first. "You could never afford them or even qualify, but these lovely women have so graciously agreed to extend their services to you at the request of Claudia."

Correction: Claudia is paying these women because she hates that I'm dating her son. Eros isn't real, and Elizabeth and Addison are already profiting from this scam. How long have they even been setting this up?

Elizabeth smooths out one of her blonde curls and looks me over with a slow, excavating gaze like she's hollowing out bones from beneath the earth. "Hmmm," she muses. "We might need to work on some things to make you more . . ." Her eyes hit mine. "Just more."

Heat bathes my cheeks, and a memory floods me.

I was thirteen.

My mom had slipped into high social circles in Charleston and landed on the cotillion's board of directors. She'd pretended to be my wealthy aunt who was presenting me to society at the upcoming debutante ball. She examined the length of my thirteen-year-old body with the same intrusive gaze, and she said, "We might need to work on some things to make you more . . . just more."

This is a way for her to tip me off. To let me understand this is a ploy like in Charleston. An act. She might as well be winking at me.

It just makes a wave of sudden grief roll over me, and my eyes burn. I'm trying not to glare like I have gnarled, rooted history with her.

Stella fingers her teardrop diamond earring. "Like I was telling you"-she speaks to Elizabeth and Addison-"Phoebe is a work in progress, but if you'd seen how rough around the edges her ex-husband is, you'd understand how perfect they are for each other."

Little does Stella know, my mom has always drawn hearts around me and Rocky and tried to smush us together like two slices of PB&J.

Nausea flips my stomach. Rocky. I need to find Rocky.

The urge grows tenfold. At least Hailey is safe from our moms. If she was at work serving with me today, she'd go sheet white seeing Addison. I rest easy remembering she's at the loft and taking care of Trevor after the Halloween horror story from last night.

He was stabbed.

I feel like I'm being metaphorically stabbed, so there's that.

Stella adds, "Grey makes much more sense than pairing her with Jake Waterford."

"She has good bones," Addison announces, pushing her tortoiseshell glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. "We can work with it."

I don't want them to work with anything that belongs to me. Not my body, not my mind, and stay the hell...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2025
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593549570
ISBN 13 
9780593549575
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
513
Kontakt zum Hersteller
BERKLEY
https://www.penguin.com/?s=BERKLEY

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Softcover