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“You’re right,” he sighed and dropped onto the nearest sofa, which happened to be next to a pack of cigarettes.

“Of course, I am. And stop smoking in front of the baby if you want her to be healthy.”

I glared at Cal until he put the cigarette back into the pack and dropped it on the end table.

“Thank you, Madison. You’ve been a good friend to me.”

I shrugged off his kind words, uneasy with the compliment. “We’re friends, Cal. What else was I gonna do? Leave you to drown in your sorrow? I know what that’s like.”

He stood and smiled at me, coming closer to cast a loving look down at Ava Rose, fighting sleep like the badass Ashby she’d become one day.

“Still,” he said, stroking his daughter’s cheek and giving her a sad smile. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” I told him simply. “I’m sorry about Bonnie.” I offered him a friendly hug because I had no one to hug, no one to hold me and offer sympathy when I stopped hearing from Molly. I’d been completely on my own, and I remembered how bad it sucked.

“Thanks.” He leaned in and too late, I realized he wasn’t just going to return my hug. His lips pressed to mine and instantly I stepped back with a frown.

“No, Calvin. Don’t do that.” I aimed an accusing finger at him, doing my best to keep my voice even but firm to let him know that was not a good idea.

He frowned, confusion written all over his face. “What? I thought we were connecting… or something.”

“We are. As friends, but if you really mean what you just said about our friendship, then don’t ever try to use me as a fuck toy to get over your grief. If you try it again, I’ll rip your balls clean off. Got it?”

He nodded, still stunned, but his eyes were filled with worry and sadness. “Wow. I’m sorry, Madison.”

I held up a hand. “I know you’re grieving. That’s why I’ll give you this one for free.” I flashed a smile I didn’t feel, handed off Ava Rose and left before he got it in his head to try and change my mind.

I’d seen it happen in the trailer park a hundred times. Men treated women like parts in a factory, one was as good as the next. One wife or girlfriend would leave, and days later another would be in her place. Mom had done the same thing, never letting her bed go empty more than a night or two.

It was disgusting, how codependent people could be, and I vowed I’d never become like that. And Calvin’s behavior was a good reminder that I needed to maintain my life outside the Ashby family. I picked up my phone off the dresser in the blue room that had been my home for the past year and finally got around to texting Jameson.

Madison: Sorry I haven’t answered things here are a real shit show. How are you?

Jameson was my only true friend in the world right now. He didn’t want or need anything from me. He called just to make sure I was all right, and that made his friendship more valuable than any other at the moment.

My phone chimed with a response.

Jameson: I’m good now that I know you’re not dead on the side of the road. Dinner tonight?

I rolled my eyes at his tendency for drama.

Madison: Sure.

Jameson: Pick you up? Parking might suck.

Madison: Nope. I’ll Uber. Where am I going?

Jameson: Stubborn.

He’d replied immediately, and it made me laugh. We were back.

Madison: Independent.

He responded with an eyeroll emoji. Siren Casino Steakhouse. Eight. See you then.

I sent him a thumbs up and locked my door so I could take a quick shower. I needed a break from the sadness and anger and secrecy that filled this mansion for the past week. Most days, Calvin was inconsolable, leaving me to look after the baby until the sun went down, and I took to the phones full-time as a booker for the Ashby’s different escort services. The rest of the family spent most of their time whispering in corners, sending one another conspiratorial looks and, likely, plotting.

It was too much stress, especially since this wasn’t my family, and I was no closer to finding Molly than I was when I arrived in Glitz over a year ago.

Chapter Eight

Jameson

My ego might have got a huge boost when Madison strolled into the steakhouse in fitted jeans, high-heeled boots, and a soft sweater that drew the appreciative gaze of several men sitting at the bar.

Yeah, she’s with me losers, I wanted to boast, but instead I grinned at her and said, “Hey, stranger. I thought you might stand me up,” when the server led her to our booth.

She rolled her eyes. “Not my fault you chose the hottest casino in town. The driver had to wait in a line that backed up into traffic.”

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