Page 53 of Prince of Lies


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He plumped the pillow behind him, closed his eyes, and settled in, like he was about to go to sleep. “I know. I love you, too. Do you feel better?”

“Shockingly? Yes.” I hadn’t come to Philly expecting a pep talk, and sure as hell not from Landry, but he’d delivered in spades. “I’m still worried about you. The stuff you’ve been doing—”

Landry sighed and opened one eye. “I promise, Sebastian, I have things under control. Mostly. And I would never let anything happen to Zane or to any of you. Okay?”

My chest squeezed at the sincerity in his voice. “Okay.”

“Now, go forth and fuck the sweet young thang who’s waiting for you.” Landry shut his eyes again. “He probably likes hearing you talk a lot more than I do.”

I snorted. I was pretty sure Landry was right about that. And there was for sure no shortage of stuff for Rowe and me to talk about. I took a deep breath and pushed to my feet, feeling a surge of hopeful energy despite my fatigue.

I wanted to know about Rowe’s project. I wanted to hear about this big idea that had gotten him so excited he’d saved up all his pennies and come to New York to make it happen. I wanted to help him with it if I could. I wanted to hear more about his sister and their antics as kids. I wanted to tell him about my friends and how amazing they were. I wanted to show him the most beautiful places I’d ever been so that I could enjoy them again through his eyes. I wanted to pull him into my arms and kiss his gorgeous face until he was breathless.

I was ready to stop holding back. And I was ready to tell Rowe so.

But when I got out to the living area, he was gone.

Rowe

I was afraid I was getting a little too good at the lying thing. When Bash had locked himself away in the room with his friend, I’d assured him I was fine, but as I retreated to the sitting area and perched awkwardly on the arm of one of the horrible sofas, I realized that was the opposite of the truth.

During the hour-long ride to Philadelphia, I’d nestled up against Bash’s chest, pretending to sleep, listening to his heart thump steadily beneath my ear, and tried to remember how I’d gotten to this place. Everything had seemed so simple two nights ago—sneak into the gala, sweet-talk Justin Hardy into a meeting, make him fall in love with Project Daisy Chain, then resume my perfectly good life in Linden, with my job and my aging parents and my secondhand furniture and an iPad full of interior designs that might never become reality.

It had seemed like enough.

But then there’d been Bash—gorgeous, brilliant, funny, deeply kind Bash—who’d gone along with my schemes, and listened to my truths, and made me feel like my dreams weren’t distant twinkling stars but ripe fruit just waiting to be picked. I could feel myself falling for him, and it scared me. A lot.

“Here you go, cutie. You look like you need this.” Noelle, the PR person, wandered over with a friendly smile and a can of energy drink she thrust into my hand. “Are you a friend of Zee’s? What did you say your name was again?”

“Rowe.” I took the can and fiddled with the tab uncertainly. “And no, I’ve never met Za—Zee before this morning. Love his music, though.”

“Interesting.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “You must be friends with the male model, then? Or with Bash Dayne? Are you two dating?”

“Ha. No.” Only in my dreams. “I’m just here as Bash’s moral support, kinda.” I shrugged.

“Aww. That’s sweet of you.” She smirked a little. “What do you do, Rowe?”

“I…” I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it again with a clack. Belatedly—and I blamed this on how damn tired I was—I noticed the gleam in Noelle’s eye and realized she wasn’t asking a friendly question. More likely, she was working on a press release.

Zee Barlo Rescued from Jail by Male Model, Wealthy Investor… and Part-Time Burrito Bandito.

I felt my cheeks go hot.

In real life, I rarely felt bad about myself. I was a good person. I worked hard. I tried my best to help people. I never worried about how much money I had, except when I didn’t have enough of it to make ends meet, or how I didn’t have a fancy degree, except when it prevented me from getting the meetings I wanted. I was proud that I’d grown up in tiny Linden. I liked that most of my clothes were high-quality designer labels I’d gotten from a thrift store.

But suddenly, I felt mercilessly exposed and vulnerable, worse even than at the polo match or the gala. A headline like that would make a laughingstock out of everyone involved. A giant game ofone of these things does not belong. And worst of all, it would be true.

A clock somewhere in the suite chimed the hour, and I felt a bubble of frantic laughter erupt from my chest.Midnight’s come, Cinderella. Isn’t it time you were going home?

I shoved the unopened can toward Noelle, and she took it in surprise. “Sorry, I… I just remembered I needed to do… a thing.”

“But… don’t you want to wait…?” Noelle called to my back.

I ignored her.

I hightailed it out of the suite, and instead of taking the elevator to the lobby, where the press had been camped out, I pushed open the heavy door to the stairs and clattered down them, breath heaving like something might catch me and drag me back.

I should be used to disappointment. Iwasused to it.

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