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He didn’t realize that while they may have been physically separated, the bond they’d forged at St. B’s couldn’t be severed—it only grew stronger with time. If it hadn’t been for Vivi, Lexie, Elisa and Gidget, Bianca didn’t know if she would have made it out of St. B’s alive. They’d saved each other then and they were still doing it now.
Emotion squeezed her throat tight. “We’re going to find Gidget.”
“Was that ever a concern?” Never one to entertain a single doubt, Elisa winked and patted the chair in front of her. “Come on, we land in a little over an hour and I have makeover magic to work.”
Nearly an hour and what felt like a pound of contouring makeup later, Bianca still sat in the chair facing away from the mirror while Elisa did her thing.
“Can’t I just take a look?” she asked as she fought not to blink while Elisa wielded the mascara brush.
“Nope.” She capped the mascara and grabbed a poofy makeup brush.
The not knowing was starting to get to her. She fucking hated being in the dark. “You’re mean.”
Elisa dabbed the brush into a soft pink blush. “Not as mean as I was to that pretty slimeball.”
Her stomach clenched. “Can we not?”
“What?” Her friend grinned as she slid the brush up Bianca’s cheekbones. “Talk about the guy who invited you to the Mile High Club?”
Heat flashed up from her toes and she was pretty damn sure she didn’t need blush anymore—or, possibly, ever again. “You could hear that?”
Elisa snorted. “Quiet, you are not.”
“We didn’t have sex.” Not that she needed to explain, but she couldn’t shut her mouth off.
“Good.” Elisa traded the blush brush for an eyeshadow palate and applicator. “But honey, if you need an orgasm that badly I will buy you a crate of Magic Wands.”
Laughing wasn’t the best idea when someone was coming at your eyes with an applicator filled with Dashing Nude eyeshadow, but Bianca couldn’t help herself. It was just what she’d needed after the day from hell.
“It’s true,” she said when she caught her breath. “A real friend gives dildos.”
“Damn straight,” Elisa said. “Now close your eyes so I can get this on and then do your eyeliner.”
Bianca did as she was told, relaxing back into the chair as she mentally went over the plan to track down Gidget at the resort. The resort’s lifestyler week and their covers would give her and Taz all the opportunities they’d need to scope out the place without raising suspicion. They knew Gidget was there. They just had to find her. Once that was done, they’d call in the DEA agents waiting a few hours offshore and the coordinated raid would go down. The DEA would get anyone tied to Genie’s Wish. The B-Squad would get Gidget.
“Okay,” Elisa said. “Time to get dressed, then it’s wig time.”
The dress. She opened her eyes and looked over at the green and pink monstrosity. Lily Pulitzer was a certain kind of preppy Southern sorority girls’ dream designer—which is what made the outfit and the other similar ones packed in the Louis Vuitton suitcases so perfect for her cover as Bethany. People may say they didn’t, but it was human nature to categorize a person on a few visual cues and then treat them accordingly. If Bianca was seen as just another country-club newlywed out for a fun time, that’s how people would treat her, and she’d make more headway on gathering intel than she would dressed in her normal badass-bitch, head-to-toe black.
She got up from the chair and got dressed.
“So what’s the deal with Taz?” Elisa asked a few moments later as she zipped up the sheath dress’s back zipper.
Everything. Nothing. She didn’t fucking know. The unce
rtainty of it burned a hole in her gut six miles wide. “Beyond the fact that he’s married?”
“And yet still giving you orgasms.”
Oh God, she hadn’t thought of it that way. Bile rose up and she clutched her hand to her stomach. “Fuck. I am the other woman.”
“No. You are not.” Elisa whipped her around so they stood face-to-face, worry and regret clear in her eyes. “I was just giving you shit. Those two are divorced. She didn’t file the final paperwork, but it’s a done deal in every other way. Taz didn’t know she hadn’t filed it. Tamara’s the asshole here. Not him. Definitely not you.” She settled the honey-blonde wig over Bianca’s dark hair, which was tied back in a low bun. “I ripped out almost all the hair on his face for being an idiot, but even I know he wasn’t playing you for a fool.”
The words made sense, but the pain was too sharp, the ache too big for her heart to process. “So if you think that, why’d you wax his beard off instead of just letting him shave?”
Elisa grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face the mirror above the dresser. “Because he’s still an idiot who hurt you.”
Looking at the preppy woman with pink cheeks, a starter tan and shoulder-length blonde hair in the mirror, Bianca couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
