It's not enough time. It's nowhere near enough time to learn how to seduce a man I've never met at a resort I can't afford while pretending to be someone I'm not.
But fifty thousand dollars.
"It's tight," I say carefully. "But I can make it work."
"Good." Barbie stands, and the others follow her lead like synchronized swimmers. "We'll send a car tomorrow at nine. The fitting is at a boutique in Back Bay. Wear something presentable."
"Presentable," I echo.
"Nothing with visible stains," Barbie clarifies. "And for the love of all that's holy, we’ll have to do something about your nails."
I glance down at my ragged cuticles. "Right."
"We'll transfer ten thousand as a deposit," Merritt says. "The remaining forty when you deliver proof of the affair. Photos, video, or a recorded confession. Dealer's choice."
"And if I can't get proof?" I ask.
"Then you keep the deposit for your trouble," Merritt says. "But we're confident you'll succeed. Blake has a wandering eye and an ego the size of Manhattan. He won't be able to resist a beautiful woman throwing herself at him."
The way she says beautiful makes it clear I’m on probation.
Just as Barbie reaches for the door, I clear my throat.
“One last question,” I say. “Is there anything else I should know? Anyone I should… avoid? How low-key should I be?”
That stops them.
Barbie’s smile turns slow and knowing.Sloane’s mouth tightens.Katelyn lets out a small, sympathetic sound.
Merritt turns back, one perfectly groomed brow lifting.“Yes,” she says. “Actually.”
Barbie laughs. “Oh my gosh,him.”
“Absolutely avoid,” Sloane says.
“Who?” I ask.
“West Prescott,” Merritt says. “He’s a groomsman.”
Barbie tilts her head. “Pro hockey. Tall. Broad. Annoyingly charming.”
“And observant,” Sloane adds. “Painfully so.”
“He notices patterns like he reads plays on ice—fast and before you see him coming. He reads people the same way.” Katelyn says.
Merritt steps closer, lowering her voice—not dramatic, just precise.“He’s loyal to Blake. Protective. If something feels off, he’ll start asking questions.”
“So,” I say, “the human equivalent of a security system.”
“Exactly,” Sloane says.
Barbie points a manicured finger at me. “You don’t flirt with him. You don’t confide in him. You don’t give him a reason to remember you.”
“Which is unfair,” Katelyn murmurs, “because he is very attractive.”
Merritt opens the door. “You can’t avoid seeing him,” she says. “But youcanavoid engaging.”
Barbie grins over her shoulder. “If he comes your way—turn the other direction.”
