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“Insane,” she breathes. “This whole thing is insane. If you need me to get out there with my voodoo shit and lay a curse on his ass and bust you outOcean’s Eleven-style, you just say the word. But if not, I’m happy for you. If you’re happy, that is.”
“I…think so, yeah. Thanks.” I try to sound the part, but I can feel exhaustion creeping back in. Lying is hard work. “But I have to go.”
“Of course. So much sex to have and money to spend. You’re a busy woman now.”
I snort. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Lunch!” she demands. “We will have lunch. It will be a long lunch. Very thorough. No detail too small, do you hear me?”
Now, my smile comes easily. Jorden is so quintessentially Jorden in this moment that I can’t help but love her. “I hear you. It’s a deal.”
And I really mean it. One day, I’m going to sit down and tell Jorden everything. The truth.
I just have no idea when that will be.
24
CORA
On my long trek back across the lawn, I decide to call Francia. I already have a stomachache from lying to one friend. I might as well go for a double header.
But she doesn’t answer. I try to tell myself that doesn’t mean anything. Ivan’s men are watching over her. She’s safe. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
I fire off a text instead.
Today was insane. I don’t know what you know, but…yeah. Call me when you get a chance. I’m okay. I want to make sure you are, too.
Since she didn’t answer my call, I don’t expect a quick response. But before I can even pocket my phone, it buzzes.
FRANCIA:I’m okay. But apparently my apartment isn’t safe? These people are telling me they know you, and I should trust them? WHAT IS GOING ON?
Lying to her is going to be significantly harder. Jorden was easily roped into the faux romanticism of the whole thing. Danger amid a whirlwind romance and all that jazz. Francia has always been more practical.
CORA:You can trust them. There’s too much to explain, but hopefully this will be over soon and you can go home.
FRANCIA:Did something happen at the party?
I nervously tap my thumbs on the edges of the phone. Ivan should have given me a script for this. Or he should have handled these conversations himself. I have no idea what I’m allowed to say, but I know one small slip-up could mean Francia no longer has the protection she needs.
CORA:What do you know about Ivan Pushkin?
FRANCIA:I know he showed up at the restaurant this morning to talk to you. Did something happen last night?
Everythinghappened last night. More than I want to explain to her over text.
Before I can formulate a response, another text from Francia vibrates in.
FRANCIA:If you’re getting married, tell me now.
She knows more about the party last night than I thought she would. She didn’t mention it was some matchmaking thing when she sent me off under her name. Probably because she didn’t think it was important. What would someone like Ivan Pushkin want with someone like me?
The question echoes around all of the deep, dark places of my brain.
What does he see in someone like me?
Nothing, apparently. I’m just the bait.
CORA:I can’t explain everything right now. I’m safe, and I’m making sure you are, too. I’ll tell you more when I can.
