The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) by Airicka Phoenix

female replacement. The girl his father had accepted, welcomed into his life without judgment. She had slipped into the life that should have been Dimitri’s and had taken everything from him.
    He’d hated her.
    He would have killed her. Had gone to kill her. Had made it right up behind her, his sweaty fingers clenched tight around the smooth handle of his flip blade. He’d never killed anyone before that, but he’d wanted to end her. He’d thought about it for days before finding the courage to follow through.
    The thing he remembered most about that afternoon was the unforgiving heat. Only the very stupid could afford to withstand the hell upon the earth. Every house on every block had their air conditioners blowing. Those who couldn’t afford it had cleverly rigged fans and buckets of ice to keep cool.
    Dimitri had considered it a sign when he’d found her and she was completely alone, huddled behind a game booth in the ugliest dress he’d ever seen. But it was the tears on her face that had stopped him. In all the months that he’d envisioned himself sinking his knife into her chest, he had never really believed she was a person, a girl. In his mind, she’d been a monster, a hideous creature with red eyes and a forked tongue that could spit up acid. In reality, she’d been small and so broken. Something about that had stopped him. He’d stood there, watching her, wondering how she could be crying when she had everything. Even in that moment, John Paul had rented an entire carnival for her birthday. There were children everywhere. The tinkle of music and laughter rose into the oppressing heat. There were mounds of brightly wrapped presents cascading over three picnic tables. But there she was, huddled in the dirt, face bunched up against her knees, weeping.
    “It’s not true what they say, you know,” he’d told her. “You’re not really supposed to cry because it’s your party.”
    Her head had come up and he was struck by a pair of enormous green eyes, the kind of green that reminded him of damp moss, clear and vivid, if not wet and slightly red around the edges.
    She’d stared at him, bemused, and then did the oddest thing, she looked over her shoulder. There was no one else there. It was just them, hidden in the shadows of a game booth.
    “Are you talking to me?”
    The question had been so ridiculous, Dimitri had almost laughed. “Are you supposed to be invisible?”
    She’d sniffled and scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand. “Do you know who I am?”
    He did know. His mother had spoken of nothing else for months, not since the news that John Paul was getting married to some redheaded bitch. That hadn’t concerned Dimitri all that much. But it was the girl he’d been most interested in.
    “Ava, isn’t it?”
    Her lips had parted in surprise. “You know?”
    “Of course I know. It’s your party, isn’t it?”
    That hadn’t been the right thing to say, because she had burst into tears, and it wasn’t delicate, girly sobs. She’d fallen apart like someone had run over her cat. Dimitri had almost abandoned ship and made a run for it. Almost. He’d begun to edge backwards when she raised her face from her hands and looked at him.
    “I didn’t think anyone knew.”
    He’d had no idea what he was supposed to say to that.
    “What are you doing back here?”   he’d asked instead. “Shouldn’t you be out there, shaking all those presents?”
    “I don’t know anyone out there,” she’d whispered. “They all think I’m weird and pathetic.”
    “Because of the dress?”
    It seemed like the correct answer. The monstrosity of fur and lacy was a disturbing shade of yellow that made him think of cat vomit. Plus, who wore fur in that kind of heat? A crazy person, clearly.
    “What?” She peered down at herself. Then back at him. “My mother chose this dress. It’s a designer.”
    A designer monstrosity, Dimitri thought, but kept it to himself.
    “Why do they think