“I hate it when people talk. I like it when you do. You’re not like the rest. You always have something interesting to say. You hate this shit as much as I do. The fake rich stuff.”

“You love the fake rich stuff,” I huffed, feeling my lower stomach tickling with an orgasm.

“Nope. Just playing the game, my Little Tide.”

“Did you just give me a nickname?” I smirked, feeling the muscles of my tight hole tightening around his finger. It hurt a little, but mostly felt weird. Not weird bad, either. But the kind you needed to get used to in order to enjoy. The way he worked his fingers over mine…that was the real treat.

“Better than Gidget.” He bit my chin.

“I like Gidget.”

“You like Little Tide more.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re about to.” He slammed his finger deeper into my ass and I yelped, clinging to his broad shoulders. His lips met my ear and he bit my earlobe, smiling.

I exploded on our fingers. Shattering like never before, in a way that made me doubt I’d ever be able to piece myself back together. The shivers were so violent and profound, I thought I was going to break into pieces. Knocks sounded from outside.

“Hey! Hey! Mr. Rexroth? It’s Clint. I’m here with the elevator’s technician, Steve. We’re coming to get you. Stay calm.”

Trent looked down at me, smiling. My cheeks were flushed—I could feel them burning and making the tight space hotter—and our fingers were completely soaked with my juices. He eased his finger out of me, and I noticed how my muscles were no longer tight and tense.

“Are you calm now?” Trent’s voice caressed the crown of my head.

“Physically, yes. But we’re entering danger territory. I’ve never been in waters so deep.” I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly afraid of being so frank.

“Neither have I, but I’m a good swimmer. And, Edie? You’re an excellent surfer.”

“JESUS CHRIST, YOU SLEPT WITH her.” Dean closed his eyes, throwing his head back and rubbing his face tiredly. We were all standing by the grill Vicious was manning. He was flipping steaks and burgers, wearing a scowl and semi-casual clothes, while Jaime was unwrapping baked potatoes and dumping enough coleslaw to choke a fucking giraffe into them for the kids. I placed the burgers in their buns methodically on a long porcelain island in Vicious’ six-thousand square foot garden, ignoring them.

They couldn’t know that.

Not from one fucking glance I’d thrown her way while I’d thought no one was looking.

“Spit it out, bastard. We want to know.” Jaime laughed, taking a swig of his Bud Light. Behind him, Daria, his six-year-old, was playing with Vaughn and Knight, Vicious’ and Dean’s kids. Lev and Bailey, the infants, were in baby swings at the far end of the garden, with Rosie and Mel watching over them and sharing iced tea. Emilia, Vicious’ wife, was in the kitchen getting everything ready.

And Luna and Edie were in their own little world, lying on the grass, staring at the sky, their arms tucked under their heads. Edie was talking, and Luna smiled a little and nodded a lot, listening. I was dying to be with them, to get closer, to ask them what they were talking about, but sharing this moment with the two of them was exactly the kind of deep waters Edie was talking about.

“Well.” Dean elbowed my ribs, passing by me with a bowl full of potatoes. “Did you or did you not stick your dick in a teenager?”

I looked up from the buns and the burgers, blinking slowly. Sometimes, it was beneficial to be called The Mute.

“I know you want us to fuck off, but come on, we gotta know. We’re your best friends,” Jaime reminded me, stretching the point by plucking a joint out of his pocket. Dean rolled his eyes, and everybody stopped what they were doing.

“Give it, you little shit. I haven’t had a smoke in a lifetime.” Figured. Dean’s wife had a lung disease. He made countless sacrifices for his family, which made me respect him even more than I had in the past. Rosie looked fine. Normal. Pretty. But still sick. So every time he could get away with smoking pot, we were reminded of how not-so-normal his life was. The fucker had a big heart. He willingly wedded what I bitterly accepted—a situation where we had to take care of someone else.

Dean lit the joint and braced the island, passing it on to me. “Come on, now,” he said, smoke crawling from his lips. “Talk.”

They weren’t going to let it go, so I threw them a bone for no other reason than to shut them the fuck up.

“We have something going on,” I said quietly, not meeting any of their gazes. I took a long hit and passed it on to Vicious, who stared at me questioningly before bringing the blunt to his lips. “It’s nothing. She hangs out with Luna a lot, but she’s got her own shit to take care of at home, and I have my stuff to deal with. It’s just casual. For both of us.”

What a fucking understatement that was. Edie wasn’t casual. She never had been. But admitting to something else was goddamn crazy.

“Should I be the one to point out that Jordan Van Der Zee is our partner, and that you’re the only person he has beef with?” Jaime asked, taking the joint from Vicious. Dean plucked another beer from a bucket full of ice.

“Fuck knows why. Trent is the only person who actually works hard out of us four.” He laughed. Everyone nodded.

“Maybe he really is racist.” Jaime’s voice was depressed.

“Nah. If he were, he’d try to hide it.” Vicious shrugged. “It goes deeper than that. All I know is that Jord wants to kick you off the board, Trent. I see the way he looks at you. Whatever he has on you, it’s big. He wants you out of Fiscal Heights and he wants you out of his life. His daughter is the perfect excuse.”

“No one is going to know,” I gritted out, snatching the joint from Jaime. “We’re careful.”

But even that wasn’t true. Two days ago, I’d had my finger in her ass in the elevator, minutes after she nearly swallowed my cock. We needed to be more cautious, and I needed to stop being drawn to the most dangerous pussy in my vicinity. She was untrustworthy. She wanted to hand her dad all the information he needed on me. Edie Van Der Zee was starting to look a lot like the death of me, and yet here I was, coming back for more and more of her poison. Addicted like a crackhead.

“Are you sleeping with her to get back at her father for trying to get rid of you?” Jaime asked.

I scoffed. “Fuck no.”

“Do you have feelings for her?” Dean added.

I rolled my eyes, turning to Vicious. “Can you shut them up for me?”

Vicious shrugged. “Do I look like your errand boy? You seem to know how to take care of yourself pretty good.”

I was about to open my mouth and tell them that, in the very near future, Jordan wasn’t going to be a problem for me anymore. Then I heard a shriek coming from behind Dean’s back. I dropped the joint to the grass, hurrying toward the sound I recognized, because I’d studied it too fucking obsessively.

Luna yelping.

“I haven’t done anything to her! I swear!” Daria’s voice screeched. She was running around the lush, carefully cut grass with her blonde ponytails in little pink bows, wearing the ballet uniform she wore constantly. This one made her ex-ballerina mother extra proud. But she was starting to look and feel and talk like a mean girl.

“Oh, no! Luna, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Mel hurried toward the scene at the same time I did. Edie was on one knee, pulling Luna into a hug. Luna buried her face into Edie’s shoulder, and Edie was shooting an ice-cold look I’d never seen before at Daria.

“That was not cool, dude. At all. Did it make you feel good? Hurting her?”

Hurting her? It was the first time I suspected I wasn’t above screaming at a child. I wanted to yell at Daria until every vocal chord in my throat tore apart.

“What the hell is happening here?” I stopped at the same time Mel did. She looked at me helplessly. We hadn’t spoken to each other since I shit all over the date she sent me on. She hadn’t mentioned introducing me to anyone since. I considered that a victory.

“I went to get us some lemonade,” Edie was quick to explain, not waiting for guilt-ridden Daria to speak up, “and as I walked back, I noticed Luna’s seahorse was in Daria’s hand. She tore it apart and took out the fluff,” Edie reported, tightening her grip on Luna, who cried harder. Edie stood up, and Luna was wrapped around her like she was her child.

And it broke me.

And made me happy.

And sad.

And so, so fucked.

I turned to Daria. Mel did the same. She was fuming, too, and it took some of the edge off, because at least I knew she was taking this shit seriously.

“Why, Daria? Why did you do that?” Mel crouched in front of her daughter, holding her shoulders. Her voice was soft, but her imploring eyes were urgent. This wasn’t the first time Daria had been mean to Luna.

Daria hitched one shoulder, staring at the ground with a pout.

“Luna is so nice to you all the time,” Mel stressed. No one asked Luna anything, because all of us knew we weren’t going to get an answer. She was still in Edie’s arms when Daria lifted her gaze slowly and pointed at the far end of the yard. We all followed the line of vision and saw Knight and Vaughn sitting at a picnic table, munching on the burgers I’d made for them.

“What?” Mel asked again, seemingly irritated. Shit. Her kid was boy-crazy at the age of six. Jaime was in for a long fifteen years or so.

“Knight always picks her side.”

“There is no side. Luna is not against you,” Mel said, her flowery skirt flipping in the wind. I had to calm my rage by averting my gaze to my girls again. Edie pressed Luna’s head to her shoulder and shook her head, still shaken by Luna’s reaction.

“How do you mean, sweetie?” Mel asked Daria.

And had I just thought ‘my girls’? Shit, I had. I’d called Edie my girl, even though she wasn’t, even though she never would be. But she fucking felt like it right there and then. Like someone that belonged to me, not because I wanted to tap her ass—even though I did—but because she was made. For. Me.