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It wasn’t like that. They were friends. Colleagues. Plus, Nico dated supermodels from Europe. They didn’t see each other like that. He kept his brother on a leash, and she scheduled his meetings.

It was a straight trade.

The unpleasant heat in her belly simmered.

Kristi raised an eyebrow.

Riley had already leaned forward across the table before she’d decided to move.

“He’s my boss! It’s my job to do what he says!” Their noses were inches apart. “Why do you care so much about this? It’s a job!”

Riley clapped her mouth shut, the yell reverberating through the bar. She sank back into her seat, cheeks hot. A moment passed before the rotary phone rang and the silence was filled with cheering. Go team.

Riley crossed her arms. “This isn’t actually about me taking a phone call.”

“Of course not. He wants something from you, and you don’t need to give it. You shouldn’t.” Kristi’s voice was sharper than the chipped Formica on the table.

Riley forced herself to breathe. Nico was not the problem. In fact, Nico helped her stay away from the actual problem: Gio.

But mentioning that wouldn’t help anything. Kristi knew Gio was an asshole already and Riley could handle it.

Sometimes their friendship felt like touching a cactus to see if it was actually sharp, over and over, just to end up with bloody fingertips. But whose fault was that? The cactus for being sharp? Or the idiot who kept touching it?

“K, what is this really about?” Riley asked.

The space between them seemed to expand and contract, and Riley willed it to shrink more. Kristi stared back at her, still, except for the muscle that jumped in her cheek.

One of the ice cubes broke under the force of Kristi’s pink straw, sending fragments skittering across the table. Kristi’s face went blank. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m drunk. We can talk about something else.” She shoved to her feet. “I’m going to grab water. You want one?”

Riley wiped the drops of melted ice with her sleeve. “Sure.” Kristi wasn’t drunk. She was avoidant. As hell.

Kristi crossed the bar in long strides, and the bartender hurried to get her what she wanted.

Kristi didn’t flinch as the windows rattled when the Eighty-Sixers rode by. She didn’t notice the collective intake of breath as one of them entered, head shaved and black leather jacket with the numbers on the back. He grabbed a table that had been empty all night. Waiting for him. Kristi didn’t even look over.

She was a pit bull in designer clothes.

She turned and walked back across the bar, oblivious to the eyes that tracked her. Or maybe she knew and just didn’t care.

Riley caught the water glass as it slid across the table, and Kristi slid back into her spot.

“We okay?” Kristi watched Riley over the rim of her glass. Her eyes were tight around the edges.

Riley sighed. “Of course.”

Kristi smiled at her, but it didn’t carry. Her eyes still held the sun’s glare on the ocean, too bright to look at.

The rest of the night was quiet and muted. They shared a ride home. Riley stared out the window, city lights smearing in the rain as they left downtown. Her phone buzzed as they neared her building, and she glanced at it, and then angled the screen away from Kristi’s curious gaze.

Unknown number: Trying to impress me? It’s working.

Riley’s fingers flicked over the screen in practiced motions—delete the message, block the number. What else was she supposed to do? Ignorance was bliss.

Until it wasn’t.



Thirty Minutes Earlier