“Getting a good look?”
“Yep. And what a waste,” I say, sipping my drink.
Her scowl deepens. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a shame someone so hot is so fucking annoying,” I say matter-of-factly. “It’s like when you see a picture of cake and find out it’s made with carrots or some shit.”
Her cheeks blaze red. “I really don’t know if I should be offended by that.”
“You should.”
The bedroom doors opens, and Asher’s reaction to Towel Ella is similar to mine, but significantly warmer. “Fuck, Ella—” He notices me, then clearly rethinks what he was about to say. “Nice shower?”
“Yes, until your brother called me carrot cake,” she huffs, stomping past him into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Asher arches a brow at me. “Carrot cake?”
“It’s a private joke between us besties,” I say, smiling sweetly. “So, while Carrot Cake is getting dressed, I’ll tell you the plan. You’re gonna take her out. Wine her, dine her, do whatever disgusting things people in love do, and I’ll search her apartment for the drive. I find it, we get paid.”
He takes the coffee cup from my hand and sips. “And what about Ella’s bounty?”
I shrug. “When we hand over the drive, we make it clear to them that she knows nothing.”
“You think that’ll work?”
“I don’t know; my crystal ball wouldn’t connect to the Wi-Fi this morning. How the fuck should I know? I’mguessing. It’s a plan, though, right?”
My brother glares at my sarcasm but doesn’t comment on it. “One problem with that. She has a camera in her living room.”
“Seriously?”
“Her dad is security freaked; of course she does. We can just switch roles. I’ll search the apartment; it’s not weird if I’m at her place. You can take her out and distract her.”
“Nope,” I almost shout. “We’ll do it on a day she’s out with someone else!”
“She doesn’t have any friends here.”
“Big fucking surprise.”
“Hey,” he snaps. “That’s my girlfriend, asshole.”
“Fake girlfriend.”
He sits on the arm of the couch. “Listen, if she’s with you, I’ll know exactly when she’s coming back. All you haveto do is distract her for an hour. Maybe two. Three would be preferable.”
“If I am alone with Ella Gibson for three hours, it’s because one or both of us is dead,” I say. “I cannot be around her, one on one, for that long.”
“Then take her to a movie.”
“Right, because she won’t think that’s strange. ‘Hey, Ella, I hate you, wanna watchBarbiewith me?’”
He eyes me. “Why did your mind go toBarbie?”
“Because it looks fun. Regardless …” I hold up a hand. “One hour.”
“Two.”
“An hour and thirty minutes.”
