My jaw tics.
“Nadia helped because she got cut from the soccer team. The idea started with her, but Bianca had the network to make it real.”
She pauses.
And then her eyes sharpen.
“And don’t underestimate the hired help.”
X raises a brow. “Meaning?”
Mindy licks her lips, voice lowering.
“They might have paid cash,” she says, “but the hired help kept the receipts.”
Tristan sits up straighter.
Mindy nods.
“They kept them as protection. Insurance. Because they know girls like Bianca and Nadia blame downward. Always. If anything ever blew back on them, the hired help planned to show the receipts and say, ‘They told us it was for a school project. Their parents took their credit cards away. They needed supplies.’”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
Mindy keeps going.
“And one of the women who bought the supplies? The one who drove out of state? She’s here illegally. If this lands on her, she’s deported. Nadia threatened her—told her shewouldget her deported if she didn’t play along.”
Tristan stands abruptly, fists clenched.
“Mindy, give me her info. I’ll take care of her. My dad’s firm can get her a green card fast-tracked. She’s not going down for this.”
Mindy’s breath catches—just once.
Relief fights its way onto her face before she hides it again.
Then she composes herself.
“I still need proof,” she says. “Social proof.”
Without warning, she slides onto X’s lap like she’s been practicing in front of a mirror. Wraps her arms around his neck. Angles her phone.
Xavier looks mildly startled—then he adjusts instantly, hand on her hip, lifting his chin for the perfect shot.
She snaps selfies—cute, flirty, calculated.
Then the door bursts open.
Four partygoers freeze, mouths dropping when they see Mindy sprawled on X’s lap.
Xavier raises a brow, cups her face, and kisses her.
Slow.
Confident.
Believable.
The room gasps.
