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“No. That’s the last thing you should do. Not when you’re drunk and jealous and the press conference is tomorrow. No.” He points at the chair. “Sit down.”
I pause, breathing hard. But sit.
With a sigh, Kendrick resumes his seat. “If you want to sit her down and tell her how obsessed you’ve been since the tour, then do it. But not tonight. Not now. Do it after you get to know her a bit and figure out if she’s who you really want. Because, I swear to God, if you give her that speech and then turn around and dump her, I’ll fucking kill you for hurting her.”
I swallow hard.
“Plus, I doubt your speech would move the needle with her right now, anyway. Because she doesn’t know you any better than you know her. Not really. She still thinks you’re this asshole fuckboy who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else. Because that’s all you’ve ever shown her because you’re scared to death to show her anything else.”
Again, I say nothing. I can’t remember the last time Kendrick bitch-slapped me like this. It’s blowing me away.
He exhales a big breath. “You really want her?”
I nod.
“Then don’t let her know how much you want her. Not yet. And, for fuck’s sake, don’t let her know her attempts at pushing your buttons are working. I know her way better than you do. Like I said, she’s the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet. But when it comes to men she actually wants to sleep with—a group that clearly doesn’t include me—she craves a challenge, the same way you do. You can get any woman you want. Well, Laila can get any man she wants. And she knows it. She’s you, in female form.” He sighs. “It’s actually crazy how much you two are similar. So, think, dumbass. If she’s exactly like you, then what will make her want you?”
I pause. “Me not wanting her.”
He touches his nose. “I once overheard Laila talking to Ruby about her exes. And, dude, I’m telling you, she gets off on bringing a player to his knees. But guess what happens when she gets him there? Can you guess, Savage?”
“She . . . loses interest?”
He touches his nose again. “She gets bored and moves on. It’s all about the thrill of the chase for her. Sound familiar?”
“So, what’s your point? Laila and I are gonna be living together for the next three months. You want me to ignore her, while living under the same roof with her?”
“No, but you need to keep your cards close to your vest for a bit. Keep her guessing. For instance, she doesn’t need to know you’re jealous of Colin. Why give her that? Play it cool. Let her chase you a bit. Let her get frustrated that her usual tactics aren’t working. And in the meantime, get to know her over the next few months. Figure out if the attraction you think you’ve been feeling has more to do with Laila, as she really is, or conquering some fantasy girl who doesn’t fall at your feet.”
I take a long chug from my bottle but say nothing.
“Now, go to bed. The longer you stay down here, watching her and drinking from that bottle, the higher the chance some kind of shit will hit the fan. And you don’t want that. Nadine is still here. She’s inside, talking to Reed. Do you want her to hear some drunken screaming match between you and Laila, after you go over there and pick a fight with Colin? Because if you stay down here, that’s where this is headed.”
He’s right. As usual. I look across the patio, where Laila is happily doing yet another round of shots with her friends. “Thanks, brother.”
“I’ve got your back, Savage. I’ll always have your back.”
“I know. I have yours, too. For what it’s worth.”
“I know you do.”
“Will you make sure Laila gets to her room tonight—alone?”
“I will. Now, go on. Walk into the house without so much as a glance at her. I promise, it’ll drive her crazy.”
I resist the urge to look at Laila. “Okay. Goodnight.” I stand. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t you dare go knocking on Laila’s door tonight, looking for a booty call.”
I scoff. “I’m not stupid.”
“Yes, you are.”
“True. But I don’t know which room is hers.”
He laughs. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, brother.” With that, I fist-bump Kendrick and do as I’m told: I head toward the house, without even a passing glance at my fake girlfriend.
Twenty-Nine
Savage
When I enter Reed’s house, I glimpse his housekeeper, Amalia, slipping into the kitchen, so I follow her in there, like a drunk driver following tail lights. When I enter the kitchen, I find her dressed in a sleek robe and slippers, quietly filling a kettle with water.
“Oh, hello there,” she says when she notices me filling the doorway.
