SUGAR TITS, MY LIFE IS OVER—
I slam the phone face down on the counter, chest heaving.
I can’t.
I can’t tell him.
Because if Jasper finds out what I’ve been pulled into—about Anton, about the Bratva, about last night—it won’t just be my life on the line.
The phone buzzes again. Over and over. Like it won’t stop until I answer.
Anton’s words cut through me, sharp as a blade:No more running.
I carry the phone out to the balcony, the sun already too bright, and swipe before I lose my nerve.
“Finally,” Jasper explodes, shoving his sunglasses up into his hair. “Do you know what I’ve been through? Milan is dead to me. DEAD. My Italian stallion turned out to be a donkey with a passport.”
He points at the skyline behind me, eyes narrowing. “That doesn’t look like your apartment. Whereareyou?”
God, I’ve only ever lied to Jasper twice in my life. First was in seventh grade when I told him I liked his haircut (it made him look like a Backstreet Boy mid–identity crisis). And now this. Two lies in fifteen years. World record, and it’s killing me.
“I, uh…” I shift the phone, angling away from the skyline. “It’s… um… Jasper’s place.”
He blinks. “Youareat Jasper’s place?I’mJasper, remember?”
I wince.“OtherJasper. Long story.”
He narrows his eyes, suspicious. Then gasps. “Wait a damn minute. Are you…glowing?”
“What? No!” My voice rises. “That’s just the… uh… sunlight. Reflection.”
He sits forward, scandalized. “Oh, my God. YOU GOT LAID.”
God, he always knows.
“Don’t tell me it was Evan. Don’t you dare. I will hop the next flight back and bludgeon him with my carry-on.”
“It wasn’t Evan!” The words tumble out too fast, too desperate. My cheeks flame. “For the love of God.”
His blue eyes narrow so hard I’m pretty sure he can see into my uterus. “Then who, buttercup? Spill it, or I’ll start guessing.”
I fake a cough, waving him off. “Wow, Milan sounds… fun. How’s the donkey passport situation going?”
“Mm-hm,” he drawls, unconvinced, but his expression softens, drama fading just for a breath. “Whatever it is, whoever it is… you deserve better
My throat tightens. God, I’ve missed him. I should feel nothing but relief, but the lie between us sits like a stone in my stomach.
Before I can say anything, he blows me a kiss at the camera. “Bye now, sugar tits
The call cuts.
I let out a long, shaky sigh, sagging against the balcony rail. The guilt gnaws at me until I think it might chew straight through bone.
The phone buzzes again in my hand.
I smile, bracing for round two of Jasper’s theatrics. “Jas, I swear—”
“Mary.”
