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It’s loud enough—and insistent enough—that I glance at the sky and wonder if a storm is brewing. But before I can so much as reach for my phone to confirm what I’m thinking, Tori turns to me with a smirk. “Glad to see you’re taking my warning seriously,” she says, eyeing the smoothie in my hand.
“I like smoothies. So shoot me.”
“Yeah, like that’s all it is.” She glances—very deliberately—down at my crotch, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have to keep my dick under control. I might be a big coffee drinker, but impotence is the last thing I’m worried about, especially not when Tori’s around.
“So, Chloe called me. She’s worried about you.”
Tori tenses, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she just keeps looking out at the ocean, her shoulders and her whole body stiff. It’s not the reaction I’m expecting, especially considering how protective Tori usually is of my sister, so I poke a little, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“She’s been trying to get in touch with you all day but you haven’t answered her texts or calls. I told her you were sleeping, but that’s obviously not the case.”
When she still doesn’t answer, I lean against the wall next to her, bump her gently with my shoulder. “She’s not judging you, you know.”
She nods even as she continues staring out at the sea.
“Seriously. She’s upset for you and wants to help. You should let her.”
“There’s nothing she can do to help.”
“She can listen. Help you plot revenge against Parsons, the life-sized dick.”
“You should probably come up with a different nickname for him. His dick really isn’t impressive enough for a name like that.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
She finally looks at me. “You watched it.”
“Only about the first thirty seconds.” I don’t tell her just how many times I’ve seen those first thirty seconds as I’ve checked up on the bots, made sure they were doing what I designed them to do. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Everyone else has seen it. Why shouldn’t you have?” But the ducking of her head, the hunching of her shoulders as if she’s preparing for a blow, says otherwise.
“Don’t,” I say, because I can’t stand to see the usually acerbic, kick-life-in-the-balls Tori so beaten down. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, you know. The release of this sex tape—that’s on him, not you.”
“I know that.”
“Do you really? Because you’re not acting like it.”
She turns to glare at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you should be looking for a way to hit back at Parsons, not hiding out here and trying unsuccessfully to blend your damn stress away.”
“The video is already out there. What exactly do you think I can do about it now?”
“I don’t have a clue. I’m an inventor, not a spin doctor. But you’ve got one of the best PR departments in the world at your disposal and instead of using it, you’re dodging calls from my sister.”
“Frost Industries? You want me to ask Ethan to help me?” She shakes her head.
“I don’t think you have to ask him for help. I think he and Chloe are dying to offer it. You just need to pick up the phone and say yes.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Nothing good ever is. But Jesus Christ, Tori, you can’t just sit here and take it like this. The press is having a fucking field day at your expense even though he’s the douchebag here.”
“Isn’t that the way it always is? Alexander’s the stud and I’m the whore.”
“So change the fucking conversation.” I grab her shoulders, shake her a little. “Call Chloe. Let her and Ethan help you
deal with this. Alexander is an opportunistic bastard who betrayed your trust for a little publicity. Why not call him on it, let the world see who he really is?”
