“What are you doing?”

Grinning, she snaps a pic of the game board and my pathetically small money stack. “I’m commemorating this event. I may never beat you at anything again.”

I latch on to the one word: again. Hartley wants to keep spending time with me. That’s enough to wash away those bad memories.

I direct her toward the kitchen and gesture for her to sit down. “We probably have some leftover ravioli. Yay or nay?”

“Yay. I love ravioli. Can I help?”

“Nope. Sit and entertain me.”

She slides onto a stool. “How exactly do you want me to entertain you?” When I open my mouth, she holds up her hand in a stop sign. “Forget I said that. You want me to read you the news?”

“Do you want to drive an ice pick through my forehead?”

“So that’s a no.”

I pull the dish out of the refrigerator and read the instructions Sandra taped to the top on how to reheat it. Convection oven, 3 minutes. After I pop it in, I turn and lean against the counter.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more people living here,” she says, looking around the large empty space. “I stayed with a family in New York over one of my breaks. Their place is about an eighth of this one, and they had three fulltime staff.”

“We used to have a lot. But after my mom died, the staff wouldn’t stop giving interviews to the gossip rags about how sad our family was. Dad fired everyone except Sandra, our cook.” I jerk a thumb toward the stove. “And she only works a few days a week now because she’s got a grandbaby she helps take care of. I like it better this way. How’d you like the north?”

“It was cold in the winters. Really cold. I don’t miss that at all. I loved the seasons, though. Spring and fall were my favorite.”

“How long were you away?”

“Three years.” She hesitates, and I know she wants to ask me questions about my mother’s death and probably the scandal that happened earlier this year. But instead of launching into a gossip hunt, she tosses me a towel. “Use this so you don’t burn your hands.”

“Good call.” I gingerly remove the glass dish. “Can we share? Or do I need to get some plates?”

“We can share. Do you want water or something else?”

I really want a beer, but I figure Hartley might not like that. She didn’t seem thrilled that I was drunk the night she found me after the poker game.

“Water’s fine.”

After we demolish the bowl of pasta, Hartley asks to use the bathroom. I show her the one off the kitchen and then go down the hall to use the other first floor bathroom.

When I get back, I hear Hartley and Lauren’s voices. I guess Lauren came downstairs to get something, although I’m shocked she didn’t just order one of her servants to do it.

I don’t mean to eavesdrop on them. I really don’t. But before I can step into the kitchen, Lauren says something that glues my feet to the floor.

“Nice to see you’re making use of the Royal name.”

“What do you mean?” Hartley sounds confused.

“I mean, there are serious perks to dating a Royal. It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Lauren’s smug, flippant tone makes my shoulders stiffen. This chick is the worst.

“I’m not dating a Royal. Easton and I are just friends.”

Lauren snickers. “Girl, come on. Friends don’t buy each other expensive jewelry.”

“What? Oh, you mean this thing? Easton got it from a candy machine.”

“Right. The Candy Machine.”

“I don’t get it.”

“That’s a custom jewelry place over on Sixth. The charms start at five grand and go up from there.” There’s a moment of silence as Lauren mentally adds up the baubles inside the clear glass heart on Hartley’s necklace. “You’ve got three charms in there. Mostly diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. I’m guessing that set Easton back about fifteen grand. Not that he can’t afford it. Like I said, it’s a good start.”

“But…I don’t want him buying me expensive stuff,” Hartley protests, and I curse Lauren for bringing up the subject. It was hard enough getting Hartley to agree to accept the gift in the first place.

“Oh, please, don’t act all innocent. Dating the Royals means dealing with their messed-up family. Might as well be compensated for it, right?”

I back up a little and then stomp on the floor so the girls will hear me coming. Sure enough, they both fall silent. Lauren smiles broadly when I walk into the kitchen. Hartley has a stormy look on her face.

She holds up the necklace the moment she sees me. “I can’t keep this.”

I fight the urge to glare at Lauren. “Why not?”

“It’s too expensive. I can’t go around wearing a necklace that costs this much.”

At the counter, Lauren heaves an irritated sigh, as if Hartley has let her down. She grabs her water glass and leaves the kitchen without a backward glance.

“Why not?” I repeat, focusing on Hartley again. “It’s not like you’re poor. You’ve got a trust fund.”

“The only trust fund I have is for academic purposes. It’s from my grandma and I can only use it for lessons, tuition, stuff like that. That’s how I’m able to go to Astor.”

I watch as she fumbles with the clasp, tugging and pulling like the gold chain is burning her skin.

“Help me,” she orders.

“No.” I back away. Taking the necklace off would be a loss, and I don’t want to feel that.

“I’m serious, Easton. I don’t feel comfortable keeping it. I’d never be able to afford something like this. Why do you think my dad—” She cuts herself off. “I can’t take this.”

“What were you going to say about your dad?” I press.

“Nothing.”

I let out an annoyed groan. “Why do you always have to be so difficult? Why is your life such a secret?”

She stops fiddling with the clasp for a moment. “What does it matter?”

“Because we’re friends. Because I want to get to know you better.” And because I’m tired of being the one who’s doing all the sharing. I’ve told her things I haven’t told anyone else. Meanwhile, she continues to be all mysterious, acting like she’d rather shave her head than confide in me.

There’s a tiny flicker of scorn in her eyes. “Yeah, you keep throwing around the friend word. You keep saying you’re cool with just being friends. But a part of me feels like it’s a long con or something. Like you’re doing all this because you want to get in my pants.”

I curl my fists against my sides. “If you believe that, why are you even here?”

She goes silent again.

“You’re lucky I decided to keep my hands off you.”

Her mouth falls open. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. Because if I wanted us to be naked, we’d be naked. I’m just playing the game the way you want right now.”

“Wow. Real nice, Easton.” She jerks hard on the chain, and the fragile clasp gives way. “Thanks for the game, movie, and food.”

Fuck.

“Wait. Don’t go. I was joking.”

She drops the necklace on the counter without meeting my eyes. “Uh-huh. I’ve got to take off now.”

I tamp down a burst of anxiety. The night’s barely begun and I definitely don’t want to be home alone. “Come on, Hartley. I stayed in for you tonight and you’re leaving already? Over what? Because I jokingly hit on you?”

“No, because I’m tired and I want to go home. You didn’t have to stay in. It was your choice.” She strides out to the front hall.

I snatch the necklace off the counter and chase after her, the gold chain dangling between my fingers. “I made that choice because it’s what friends do, remember? Make sacrifices.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” she replies coolly.

I can feel my temper boiling. “I won’t. In fact, you can find your own ride home.”

She jerks the heavy oak doors open. “I will.”