Page 62 of Wicked Fortune

“But?” I prompt, sensing the weight behind the word.

“But we had some rough months, then went our separate ways. She hit hard times, and I let her back in. I owed her.”

“Owed her?”

“She—well, let’s just say she was instrumental in getting me on this path. I owe her a lot. And we’re friends. Good friends.”

“I never saw you as the kind of businessman who would hire someone just out of obligation.”

He leans back. “I’m not. She also happens to be great at what she does. More than that, I trust her completely.”

The silence hangs between us, heavy with things unspoken. “I’m sorry,” I say. “We’re barely together—I don’t even know if it would be fair to say we’re dating—and I’m getting all bent out of shape about something that’s clearly in the past.”

His face is unreadable, but I see the way his body relaxes. “One, we are dating. Exclusively,” he adds, in a voice that makes me want to drag him right back to bed.

“It’ll be a challenge, but I guess I can live with that.”

“Two,” he says, fighting the smile that tugs at his mouth, “Lila’s seeing someone.”

“Oh. Who?” The question is automatic. It’s not as if I’ve been around long enough to know Lila’s paramour.

“Elias Trent” he says. “He’s⁠—”

“—head of Talent Relations.”

His brows raise. “I’m impressed.”

I flash a modest smile. “I want to do a good job. I studied the corporate chart. Other than that, I know nothing about the guy.”

So maybe Matthew is right. Maybe Lila’s just protective and prickly, and I’m reading too much into things.

But even as I tell myself that, a little part of me can’t help but wonder if he’s blind to what’s right in front of him. And if there really is something dark and scary happening at those parties.

And if so, does Lila know?

TWENTY-TWO

Wednesday passes in a glorious blur. I have errands all over the studio lot, so I’m able to mostly avoid Lila. Something I consider a good thing, since I’m pretty sure she’d read I Had Sex With Matthew with just one good look at my face.

Still, despite my honed and sharpened acting skills (not), I can’t help but float through the day. And while Matthew and I play it purely professional, I catch Lila’s sharp gaze more than once. And by the end of the day, I can’t shake the feeling that she knows.

“Don’t worry about it,” Matthew tells me when we’re tucked away in his office sorting documents. (Not a euphemism.) “Lila’s a big girl, and I already told you there’s nothing between us.”

“You also told me that she’d like there to be. Which I think makes me her archnemesis.”

“And you’ll look damn cute in the bodysuit and cape.”

“Don’t make light of it.”

We’re working on the sofa in his office, the documents spread out on the coffee table. Now, he reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “I’m not,” he says. “I respect how she felt about me in the past. But she’s seeing someone now, remember? Whatever she might have felt for me is history.”

“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe not. But if this thing between us is going to go anywhere⁠—”

“Thing?” He arches a brow.

“—then you need to tell her,” I finish, my voice firm.

He’s still holding my hand. Now he lifts it and kisses my knuckles. “This is more than a thing,” he says, with so much heat in his voice I feel a little undone. “And you’re right. She’s my oldest friend, and she deserves to know. I’ve got a morning meeting, but I’ll talk to her after that. Sound good?”