After a few moments, she clears her throat. “I’m sure you know why I’m calling.” Her voice is low and serious. Have I done something? What could I have done?

“Um, no?”

I hear her suck in air. My mother is a stunningly beautiful woman, but there is a small gap between her two front teeth. A scout for some New York modeling agency once told her that the gap added character to her beauty, and if she wanted a career as a model, all Mother had to do was pack her bags and move to Manhattan. My mother eschewed the idea, stayed in Texas and got married. A proper lady was interested in a husband, not a career. But she never got the tooth fixed, either.

“Today is Ashley’s wedding anniversary.”

I feel Jamie’s hand close over mine and realize that I’m clenching the arm of the chaise so tight it’s a wonder the metal doesn’t crumble. How typical of my mother to remember my dead sister’s anniversary when she hardly ever bothered to remember her birthday when Ashley was alive.

“Listen, Mother. I have to go.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

I close my eyes and count to ten. “No,” I say, but an image of Damien fills my mind.

“Does that no mean yes?”

“Mother, please.”

“Nichole, you’re twenty-four years old. You’re beautiful—assuming you haven’t gotten even bigger in the hips—but you’re not getting any younger. And with your—well, we all have flaws, but yours are so extreme, and—”

“Jesus, Mother.”

“I’m simply saying that at twenty-four you need to be thinking about getting on with your life.”

“That’s what I’m doing.” I lock eyes with Jamie, silently pleading for rescue.

Get rid of her, Jamie mouths.

Like that’s easy …

“Mother, seriously, I have to go. There’s someone at the door.” I cringe. I’m a terrible liar.

Jamie scrambles off her chaise and sprints to the far side of the pool. “Nikki! Some guy’s at the door! Holy fuck, he’s gorgeous!”

I clap my hand over my mouth, not sure if I’m mortified or thrilled.

“Well, I’ll let you go, then,” my mother says. I can’t tell if she actually heard Jamie. I think I hear a tiny bit of excitement in her voice, but I might just be imagining it. “Goodbye, Nichole. Kiss-kiss.”

That’s all it’s ever been. Never I love you. Just kiss-kiss, and then she hangs up before I can even answer.

Jamie flops back down beside me, looking far too impressed with herself.

“Oh. My. God,” I say. “Are you nuts?”

“That was priceless,” she says. “Honestly, I wish I could have seen your mother’s face.”

I maintain my stern expression, but secretly I agree.

“Come on,” Jamie says, standing up and gathering her things. “Let’s go move our stuff to the dryer. And I’m still hungry. Wanna do pizza and a movie? How about Annie Hall? I hear it won an Oscar.”

Jamie’s not the least bit interested in Annie Hall, and she dozes off about fifteen minutes into the movie. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure if she’s asleep or in a food coma from the six slices of pepperoni pizza she consumed within minutes of the delivery guy’s arrival at our door.

Me, I love the movie, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been paying attention. No, I’ve been thinking about Damien Stark. About his offer, the one that my mother would so not approve of.

The one I think I’ve decided to accept. I just need to ask Damien a couple of questions.

Be careful.

He’s dangerous.

I don’t believe it. Not really. Not the way Ollie means. But I need to know for sure.

Butterflies dance in my belly as I grab my phone off the charging station by the sofa and pad barefoot to my bedroom. My laundry, I realize, is still in the dryer. But my panties can wait.

I scroll back through my incoming calls and find his number. I hesitate only a second, and then I dial.

“Nikki,” Stark says, before the first ring dies out. He sounds relieved to hear from me.

“What happened to Sara Padgett?” The question bursts out of me. I have to ask while I have the nerve.

I can feel the chill coming off Damien all the way through the phone line.

“She died, Nikki. But I believe you already knew that.”

“I want to know how,” I say. “And I want to know about the two of you. Your security got all riled up yesterday when someone named Padgett showed up. And if I’m going to—”

“What?”

I suck in a breath. “If I’m going to consider your very generous offer, I need to understand the kind of man I’m dealing with.”

“Jesus.” For a moment I hear only traffic noise. He must be in his car.

“Damien?”

“I’m here. This is bullshit, Nikki. You know that right?”

“No,” I say. “I don’t know shit because you’re not telling me anything.”

The words, when they come, sound grudging. “Sara Padgett and her brother, Eric, inherited a controlling share of an interesting little company called Padgett Enviro-Works from their father. The company had made their father quite wealthy, but it lost its edge after he passed away, and started spiraling downward. Eric was failing at management and Sara wasn’t interested in the company at all. I saw an opportunity for growth and made an overture to buy their shares of stock.”

He pauses as if waiting for me to comment, but I stay silent. I want to hear where this is going.

After a moment he continues, his words flat, as if he’s reading from notecards. “They both declined my offer, but Sara asked if I would escort her to a charity function. I agreed. One thing led to another and we continued to see each other.”

“Did you love her?”

“No. She was a friend. Her death was a horrible shock.”

“It was an accident?”

“I can only imagine so. Apparently it looked like autoerotic asphyxiation that went very, very bad. The coroner ruled it an accident and that was that.”

I run my fingers through my hair. I believe what he’s told me—but I’m also certain that he hasn’t told me everything. I consider just dropping it, but I can’t. I have to know. “But there’s more, isn’t there? That’s not the whole story.”

“Why do you say so?”

“I—someone—I mean, a friend is worried about me.” It’s only fair he knows, right? “About me and you. He thinks you’re dangerous.”

“Does he?” Right then, the tone of Stark’s voice sounds very, very dangerous. I close my eyes and hope that I somehow haven’t gotten Ollie in trouble. Surely he can’t know this is coming from Ollie. Can he?

“That’s not the point,” I say. “What else happened?”

“Her brother,” he says flatly. “Somehow, Eric is convinced that I tied her up, choked her, and left her for dead, accidentally killing her. And he’s just itching to go sell his story.”

“Oh.” I lick my lips. “That’s horrible.” No wonder he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“So that’s that. What do you think, Nikki? Am I dangerous?” The words are harsh. Angry. I’m thinking this may not be the best time to discuss his proposal.