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Weird. It was late, and her father had never been the wait-for-my-daughter-to-get-home-safely-before-I-go-to-sleep type. Most of the time, he wasn’t home, period.

“What’s going on?” Kris rolled her eyes at the smugness stamped all over Gloria’s face, but a pinprick of dread needled at her.

Something was wrong.

“Kris Carrera.” Roger unfurled himself to his full five feet, eleven inches.Shit.He never called her by her full name, not even when she’d crashed her brand-new Porsche two days after her sixteenth birthday. “Would you care to explain what this is?”

He held up a sheet of paper.

How would she know? She didn’t do documents, except—

Her blood chilled.

Her feet carried her across the room, and when she got close enough to read the black print, the chill turned to pure ice.

Roger was holding the contract she’d signed with Nate at the beginning of the summer—the one in which she described, in no uncertain terms, that she was hiring Nate to seduce Gloria in exchange for $15,000.

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