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“I won’t be made a fool of, Grace. Not by her. Not by anyone.”

I open my mouth to tell him how delusional he is, but the look in his eyes stops me. For once, my arrogant, untouchable brother actually looks human.

“Fine,” I say quietly. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He studies me for a long beat.

“If you breathe a single word of this to anyone,” he says, voice suddenly ice-cold again, “I’ll make sure every dirty little secret you have comes spilling out.”

“I don’t have secrets,” I say quickly.

Finn’s smile turns vicious. “Really? Because I could name a dozen off the top of my head.”

“Out,” I snap.

“Thanks, sis,” he says, making the word sis sound like a communicable disease. He saunters out and I sink back against my pillows with a heavy sigh.

We’re both such a mess.

And it’s not just us. There’s Jasmine, Wren, and that sleazy massage parlor. I tried calling her yesterday. Multiple times. She never answered. She deserves to know, even after everything that’s happened.

I pick up my phone and dial again. It rings out. This time, I leave a message.

“Hey, Jas…I saw Wren leaving one of those sketchy massage parlors yesterday. He was fixing his trousers when he came out. I’m so sorry, but I thought you should know.”

I hang up, chest tight.

It’s the right thing to do.

I just hope she’s okay.

23

GRACE

It’s Tuesday, and I’m out dress shopping for the gala with Drew. He hasn’t mentioned that he will be moving on soon, and I haven’t brought it up either. I guess Dad hasn’t told him yet. I’m certainly not going to be the one to do it. The second he hears the words “last day,” he’ll want to talk about our future—what happens next, where this is going, all of it. And I am nowhere near ready for that conversation.

But there’s also this tiny, terrified part of me that worries he won’t say anything at all. That he’ll just say goodbye and walk away.

I’m not ready for that either.

It’s been almost a month since the whole Max incident, and while the initial shock has faded, the judgment definitely hasn’t. Today I’m dressed as myself—mini skirt, halter top, the works—and in these upscale boutiques, the sales assistants still give me these little smug looks, like they’re somehow morally superior. I want to tell them they’d never even get close enough to a man like Max Carter for him to dump them, but I bite my tongue.

What surprises me is how different it feels now that I’ve spent so much time in those dodgy downtown places with Drew. There, people aren’t nearly as cruel. Strangers actually smile at me. (Probably because they have no idea who I am, but still.) I had no idea there was a whole world out there where you can make a spectacular mess of your life and people might eventually just get over it instead of holding it against you forever.

I zip up an emerald green silk gown in the dressing room, and the second the fabric settles against my skin, I know this is the one. It’s bold but nothing a bit of heavier makeup couldn’t handle. The back is completely bare, and the silk moves beautifully around my legs.

I give a small twirl, watching the fabric swirl, then take a deep breath and pull the curtain open.

Drew is leaning against the entrance to the dressing rooms, hands in his suit pockets.

He just stares.

“What do you think?” I ask, suddenly nervous.

He glances over his shoulder to make sure the sales assistants are out of earshot, then steps closer. His eyes drag slowly down the dress, and he shakes his head.

“No.”