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TRAVIS
Las Vegas, Nevada
Tatiana’s taste lingered on my lips, tempting me to return to her room and finish the job, but I held back.
I wanted her to be sober, to admit that her life had been as grey and dull without me, as mine had been without her.
Looking up at the ceiling, I debated the pros and cons of waking her up this morning, the door opened.
Then the lights came on.
Tatiana?
“We have a problem.” It was Madeline. “Like, a hugehugeproblem.”
“I can see that.” I sat up. “It’s two in the morning, and you’re in my room for no reason.”
“Is that a freakin’Picassoon your wall?” she asked. “Do you know how many homeless people in this city you could’ve fed with what that costs?”
“Madeline, I truly hope you didn’t barge into my room to talk about art.”
“I’ve got some deep dive reporters on my back and I can’t shake them off,” she said. “They’re not buying anything I sell them, so I need you to throw me a bone, or this could get ugly real fast.”
“Please speak start speaking English, Madeline.”
“They don’t believe you and Tatiana’s relationship timeline.” She paced the floor. “They’re saying that they have pictures from various competitions and hotels, and hearsay from people who saw you two together years ago.”
“I don’t see how that’s a problem if we’re married now.”
“It invites speculation,” she said. “If you’re lying about that, what else are you lying about? We want sponsors to trust that you turned a new leaf and fell in love with your sister’s nemesis years later. Any deviation from that is a problem.”
“Tell those reporters to use their time to research something useful, like if Mr. Truss is going to announce I’m still on Nike’s list at his gala he wants me to attend.”
“I’m sure he will.” She crossed her arms. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m interested in knowing these details about you and your wife as well.”
“It doesn’t.” I shrugged. “If that’s all you have to say, feel free to have Ryan take you home.”
“What about what you did to get Miss Brave to agree to this arrangement in the first place? What was the favor you did for her in the past?”
“Make sure Tatiana has access to a designer for the gala, too.”
“She’s wearing Chanel.” She moved closer to me. “How exactly did she come to ‘owe’ you anyway?”
I said nothing.
“We could kill two birds with one stone here.” She smiled. “The lingering rumors about you being utterly selfish could be easily dispelled if the reasoning is—”
“Stop.” I cut her off. “I’ll never discuss any of that. Ever.”
“How about off the record, then?” she asked. “If I swore not to say a word about whatever this ‘favor’ was, would you tell me?”
“I’ll never tellanyone.”
“But—”
“It would hurt someone I love very much and potentially ruin a friendship,” I said. “Drop it.Now.”
Her shoulders sagged, but she quickly recovered. “Can you at least let me talk about the Picasso?”
