“Might mean the end of your modeling career once people know you’re a liar.”

She leans closer, her finger tracing my hand. I pull away, and she grimaces. “I’m twenty-eight, and modeling isn’t forever. And who knows—any news is good news for me. I can spin it however I want. Plus, it would be great for you—and that’s worth it to me. Those fans would eat up a story about us reconciling. I love you, Jackie. I’m willing to be with you on your terms.”

I cringe at the nickname. “I’m seeing someone.”

She freezes, a look on her face as if I slapped her. A few moments of silence tick by as we stare at each other. “You aren’t in love with her, or you wouldn’t have come. You wanted to see me.”

“I came because I said I would.”

She looks down at the table, then back up at me, her eyes pleading. “Jack, we had something good. If you’d just give me a chance, you can forgive me. I know you have a big heart. We can start all over a little at a time, and you’ll see that I mean it. I want this. I want to be a better person. I won’t ask for marriage. I won’t ask for anything but the chance to just be with you.”

Her willingness to put herself out there like that makes me do a double take. I came here thinking maybe she wanted to hold something over me one more time, but now I see that she . . .

A long exhalation leaves my chest as I realize something I hadn’t before.

I did hurt her, more than I ever realized, even though I tried not to. With my distance. With my walls. With my refusal to say words of love.

I can see the proof of it on her anxious face.

She does love me, as much as a person like her can.

I pause. How different would our relationship have been if I’d given more of myself? Would we still be together?

A thought niggles at me, sneaking in: Aren’t you just going to hurt Elena the same way you hurt Sophia?

No.

But . . . I don’t know.

Shit.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just . . .

I clear my throat, coming back to the girl across from me. “Sophia, we are finished.”

She closes her eyes, opens them, visibly shaken. “Everything I said was true. You broke my heart, Jack; you used me up and tossed me away—”

“I cared for you, Sophia. But you ruined what we had. Not me.” My gaze hardens.

“You hate me.” She pales, regret on her face as her gaze clings to mine, another tear tracing down her cheek. I hand her a napkin, and she takes it from me, her fingers grasping mine, trying to lace them together.

Untangling our hands, I let out a deep exhale. “Sophia, I don’t hate you. Be happy. Go back to Rodney or just find yourself. Live your life.”

Her voice, when it comes, is wobbly. “Are you happy?”

She’s fishing.

“I have to go, Sophia.” I stand up from the table but frown down at her, puzzling over what’s on my mind until I realize that I want to tell her . . . “The girl I’m seeing . . . she’s kind and good.”

An incredulous look crosses her face. Her eyes narrow. Maybe it was something in my tone. Maybe it’s because I’ve insinuated she isn’t a good person.

I give her a nod, and I’m turning to go, when her voice stops me.

“I have one more thing for you.” There’s a sly look on her face, and I cringe, once again disappointed in myself for being blind when I dated her.

“What?”

She stands gracefully, hips never missing a seductive sway as she glides over to me, her wineglass in her hands. She drains the liquid and sets it back on the table. Gone are the traces of her tears, yet there’s a hint of desperation on her face. “That girl in the video? Elena Riley. The librarian.”

I stiffen. She’s done her homework. “What about her?”

She laughs, and unease creeps over me.

“Stay away from her, Sophia.”

Her features harden. “I couldn’t care less about that ordinary girl. I just can’t believe you’re with her. Especially considering who she is.” She gives me a knowing smile, a glint of something in her gaze I can’t read.

“What about her?” I snap. “What game are you playing?”

A brittle laugh comes from her. “Oh, it’s so good, what I know about her, but I’m not going to tell you. You’ll figure it out on your own soon enough, I bet.”

“Tell me what?” I grind out.

Swiftly, she grabs her purse, an effortless motion. Her face is smug.

My heart beats harder than it should.

“Sophia, tell me what you mean.”

She brushes past me, her hands dragging across my shoulders. Another laugh. “Don’t trust her, Jack. She isn’t who she says she is. Think about that. That’s my gift to you today.”

My body tightens as she sashays away, a clever smile on her lips. She breezes out the door and out of my life forever, and I swallow thickly. Relief and victory are mine. So why do I feel like something just went horribly wrong? A heaviness settles on my chest, like a boulder that I can’t push off.

What did she mean about Elena? What kind of betrayal was she insinuating? Did she mean the lingerie or something more sinister?

Don’t trust her, I say in my head, and it plays over and over.

I freeze, shaking myself.

Wait. Who am I thinking about not trusting—Sophia or Elena?

I can trust Elena.

Right?

After talking briefly to Lawrence and my attorney, I get in my car, my mind churning, trying to figure out what Sophia was getting at.

She isn’t who she says she is.

A text comes in. Elena. I let out a sigh of relief, needing a distraction from the emotional roller coaster that is Sophia.

You all done?

Yeah. All over. So glad.

Great.

I stare at her words.

Things haven’t been easy between us these past few days, and part of it was Sophia, and the other part was . . . me.

Maybe I need to take a breath and reassess.

Don’t trust her, she said.

But . . .

Fuck.

I want . . .

Elena.

You’ll never commit to her either, a small voice murmurs in my head, and once she figures it out, she’s going to kick you to the curb so hard, and you might not get up.

Stop.

I lock those thoughts down.

My throat feels dry as I twist the top off a bottle of water in the Porsche and chug it down. I need to see her.

Meet me at the penthouse.

Can’t. I’m at work plus play practice is at seven. Are you coming?

I’ve been so caught up in worry over this meeting that rehearsal was an afterthought.

Right. I’ll head to your house. Meet you there before practice.

Are you okay?

Am I?

I will be when I see you.

I set the phone down and start the car.

After an errand at the hardware store, I’m on the road toward Daisy and playing back Sophia’s words.

Is there something in Elena’s past she hasn’t told me?

No. I toss that idea out.

Still . . .

My teeth grit. A seed of doubt is building and growing inside me, snaking around my . . . heart.

Feeling anxious and harried, I park my car in her driveway and jog up to her door, knocking briefly and going inside. I’ve spent the last two nights here. We’ve spent long hours in her bed, talking and making love. I’ve never been this . . . desperate for a girl. I’ve given her more than I have anyone. No NDA. No holding back about who I really am. She knows about my shoulder. Fear snakes over me, and I shove it down.

I stalk in, feeling off, sweeping the room.

“In the bedroom,” she calls, and I walk down the hall and open her cracked door.

She’s standing at the foot of the bed. Hot as hell. Black lace thong is on her ass, a lace bra hugging her breasts. I shut the door firmly, wondering where Topher is. Probably upstairs.

Focus, man.

She looks at me. “You look weird.”

“Do I?”

She nods and walks over to me.

I want things to be okay.

I want this thing we have.

But on my terms . . .

And I wonder how long that’s going to last?

Shit.

What am I doing with Elena? I’m going to hurt her just like I did Sophia.

Never hurt her!

I inhale sharply—shit—trying to regroup and focusing on her as she takes my jacket off, sniffs it, and gags. “Gross. I do not like this perfume.”

Sophia picked it out, and it wasn’t my favorite, either, but I keep my mouth shut, knowing better than to bring her up right now.

Elena tilts her head up at me, a fierce look on her face. “We are not going to discuss her. It’s done. Now take that suit off. I’m wiping your memory like a Jedi mind trick. Elena is the only girl you want to see at Milano’s,” she says, waving her hands in front of my face.

A laugh comes from me, rough and unsure. “Have you been standing in that pose waiting for me to come in?”

“You bet. All planned.”

“Vixen.”

“I was giving you five more minutes, and I was going to pull out the vibrator.”

“Liar.”

She cranks up Taylor Swift as I quickly unbutton my shirt, tugging it out of my pants and tossing it aside. My pants are next. Socks gone. She hates socks on me.

She turns and jumps in my arms, her legs locked around my hips. “Let’s do this. Nice and fast before we’re star-crossed lovers.”