"There's always a choice."
"Not when your agent threatens your career if you don't comply." Frustration bleeds into his voice. "Look, I know how this looks like. But I'm asking you to please come get me. I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend to be with her when all I want is you."
The words only make me more furious.
Because he attended the gala to be with her, and he's still there playing his part while asking me to rescue him.
"No."
"What?"
"I said no. You made your choice. You're at a fancy gala with a beautiful woman who fits in your world. I'm not coming."
"Ivy, listen to me..."
A throw pillow hits my arm. I look up to find Sloane standing in her bedroom doorway in shorts and a T-shirt.
She mouths, "Say yes!"
I shake my head.
She mouths more emphatically, whisper-shouting, "SAY YES."
"Fine," I hear myself say. "Where's the museum?"
Declan rattles off an address downtown. "Thank you. I owe you..."
I hang up before he can finish. Standing, I glare at Sloane.
“I don't know why you asked me to agree to this rubbish, but we're going to have a discussion when I'm back."
I start walking out of her apartment. She rushes over and holds my arm to stop me, then pulls me to her bedroom, grinning.
"What are you doing?" I protest.
"Saving you from yourself." She throws open her closet, surveying the contents with a critical eye. "You can't go to a museum gala looking like that."
I glance down at the oversized cardigan and boyfriend jeans I borrowed from Sloane after having a shower this morning.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Everything. You're going to rescue your man from another woman. You need to make him regret ever being in that situation." She pulls out a dress. It's dark with golden highlights. "This one."
"It's too big for me. You're taller and more shapely than I am, Sloane."
"It's too small for me, so it's the perfect fit for you. I wanted to gift it to you on a special occasion. There's no better time than now."
She holds it up, and my eyes widen. The neckline plunges. The fabric looks like it clings. It's the kind of dress that highlights every curve, including the ones I prefer to keep hidden.
"I can't wear that."
"You can and you will."
"Sloane..."
"It's classy and sexy. Trust me." She shoves it into my hands. "Now strip."
I drop the dress back into her wardrobe.
