“I know,” I say heavily. I don’t really feel better for having admitted it. Owning the truth was necessary, but it doesn’t absolve me. Neither does the voice saying,What’s so wrong with falling in love?
I shut up that voice. Now is not the time for the poets to convince me the heart always wins.
“That’s like the golden rule of our business,” Dean says. “Don’t fall for the person you’re protecting.”
Like I weigh a ton, I sit next to him, “I know. I should have?—”
“Told me the truth before it got this far so I could have taken you off the job.”
When he puts it like that, more shame creeps up my neck. “Yes,” I mutter.
“You know the deal in our line of work. When you fall for the client, you make mistakes. Get distracted. You think with your heart instead of your gut.”
It’s ingrained in me, and in him, so we say it together: “Always trust your gut first.”
That awful feeling coils tighter in my stomach. “I let you down.”
“You did. You letusdown. But we’re in this together,” he says, apparently ready to roll up his sleeves and fix the mess I made. “Does anyone know?”
I shake my head. “Just some of her friends.”
He blows out an annoyed breath. “I really wish you’d said no one.” But then he shakes his head, like he’s shaking off his frustration. “We’ll tell Ruby Horizons you got pulled to another job, and I’ll handle Ripley for the rest of the shoot. No one will have to know.”
What did I do to deserve a partner like this? His triage skills are unparalleled. “Thank you,” I say, grateful, embarrassed it’s come to this, but relieved all the same.
“And then we’ll move on, and you’ll be more careful. Right?” He asks it like a cop letting you off with a warning.
“Of course,” I say, and I’m about to addfalling for a client won’t be a problem since I’ll be with Ripleywhen my phone buzzes again. It’s as persistent as someone punching a doorbell over and over. It’s my sister again, and I click open the text.
Emily:You’re seeing Haven Addison’s sister?
“The fuck?” I drop the phone like it’s on fire, then scramble to get it from the floor. Yup. The same damning text still mocks me.
“What’s going on?” Dean asks.
What’s going on is a photo onVIP Vibesof Haven, Ripley, Bridget, and Chloe dancing at Prohibition Spirit last night. I’m in the background next to Wanda.
Why would my sister assume we’re together from this shot?
I also didn’t realize Ludwig was there last night. He must have been since he regularly sells toVIP Vibes.
Dammit, Dean was right. Falling in love does make you lose focus. I should have paid more attention to the other people in the bar.
But my sister sent another link, this one to a social media feed of hashtags from the movie. And that pit in my gut turns into a gaping maw.That’swhy my sister asked if I’m seeing Haven’s sister. Because there’s a picture making the rounds of Ripley and me getting out of the car, my hand in hers, our gazes locked.
I hate to admit it, but it’s a good shot.
If a photo tells a story, this is the tale of two people fighting like hell to resist each other as they fall hard. This picture doesn’t lie at all.
My only hope is that the paparazzi assumed Ripley was Haven again, like they’ve done before.
But they’re not stupid.
Last night, Ripley wore a strappy tank, and her birds were visible, flying down her upper arm. That explains why this photo isn’t running inVIP Vibes—neither of us are celebrities.VIP Vibeswouldn’t payNews Site Inkfor a shot of the star’s sister and her bodyguard. This was just one of many images under the hashtag forSomeone Else’s Ring.
Ripley and I are a sidebar. A footnote. An interesting little scandal with the caption: Better look twice! If you thought Haven Addison was having an affair with her bodyguard, you’d be wrong. Her identical twin sister is, though, and was seen canoodling with him before she and her star sibling went dancing at a local hot spot.
It had to have been Eric Patrick who posted this online. No wonder he flashed me that smug smile. He’d probably saved this pic somewhere else on his phone after taking it off his camera roll. “Her fucking ex,” I mutter.
