Bea frowned. “A reminder of what?”
“That you’re linked,” Georgina said, as if it made perfect sense.
“To Gage?”
“Is there another man whose penthouse you’ve slept at this month?” Georgina asked dryly.
“That’s beingtracked?”
Georgina nodded.
Do they know my ovulation cycle, too?
“And I’m…notallowedto fly overseas without his permission?”
“Not exactly. But after you put your passport details in, you just need to get the override code off him, or choose to alert him directly for confirmation.”
Right. Not a full block, just a gentle hand on the wrist.You seem to be attempting independence. Would you like to notify your owner?
She leaned back in her chair, half laugh, half stress-induced choke.
“Okay. I’m sorry…what even is the Social Proximity Law?”
“It basically means that if you’re choosing to sleep over, then you’re choosing to give him certain rights to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
“From other men. And anyone who sees you as a weakness. Or leverage.”
Where to even begin responding to that?
“And so I understand”—Bea’s voice was climbing—“how many Tiers are there?”
“Four.”
“Four?” Her voice teetered on shrill. She sat up. “How did I get to the highest one already?”
“It can be easy to slip into by accident because the nights accumulate over a month,” Georgina said. “And I know with Tier Four it can happen because of consecutive nights stay.”
She was saying all of this with the same tone she used to explain dry shampoo. Like she hadn’t just read the part where the state had assigned Bea a legal handler. This was not the energy the situation required.
“I’mthisclose to hyperventilating, Georgie. Does this mean nothing to you?”
Georgina pulled her into a hug. “Relax, Bey. It’s really not something to panic about. Talk to Gage tomorrow. He’ll explain it better than I can.”
Right. Sure.
Hey, Gage. Slight hiccup. The government thinks you own me. Thoughts?
The lights were low in Gage’s penthouse. They were sitting on his sofa, sharing a plate of apples that Bea had cut up.
“I got flagged last night,” she said, chewing.
He looked at her. “Flagged, how?”
“I was looking up flights to London.”
“Tier Four,” he said.
