I swallow thickly. “Damn, straight to the jugular. Warn a girl first, maybe even a little warmup. Foreplay is good, you know?”

I let the ‘Daddy’ thing slide. It’s getting to be a bad habit, but I’ve just got other things on my mind right now.

Tiffany snaps her fingers at me, telling me to quit stalling and get to chatting.

“Yes and no. We had the whole chat session in his office when he found out, but he blew off our lunch at Frankie’s. I mean, he said he was busy, and I know he is, but that’s not why he cancelled. He’s too mad to sit across the table and share fries with me.” I fidget with a string on the comforter and Tiffany slaps my hand.

“Stop that. It was expensive. And stop that.” She points at my face. “Quit being all morose and pouty and tell your dad that you’re a grown ass woman who can do what she wants and who she wants, when and where she wants.”

She pulls on the matching pink panties and heads toward her closet, showing me that I was right about it too. Perfectly organized with all the new swag she bought.

“Easier said than done,” I say, still pouting. “And I’m not doing Colton Wolfe.”

It’s not really a lie. I haven’t fucked him . . . yet. But I want to, and he wants me. I know he made good on our dare too. It was obvious in the hungry way his eyes followed me around the office yesterday. I had been good, too, holding off until late at night, well after the twenty-four hours were up, in case he called me. I would’ve been down for a bootie call. Hell, I’d half been expecting one. But my phone hadn’t rung, and before bed, I pulled out Maximus, my favorite vibrator, and came saying Colton’s name.

That seems like a separate issue from the one with my dad, though. Or at least I want it to be. Personal and professional are getting so tangled up.

Tiffany’s freshly waxed brows arch. “I’m not stupid, Elle. But if you’re not ready to talk about that, it’s fine. Here’s what I want to know . . . Do you like working for Colton? With him on this HQ2 thing?”

I sigh and meet her eyes, hoping she can see the truth, even the bit I’m not ready to divulge just yet. “I do. All joking aside, I like it. He pushes me hard, but he respects my work. I feel like I’m finally doing something bigger, like this is worthwhile and my input is valuable. I feel like I can fly when we’re kicking ass together.”

“Then tell Daddy that,” Tiffany says as if it’s that easy. “You’re like, the world’s greatest daughter and one kickass bitch. I’m proud to call you my best friend, and I’ll be even prouder to call you my stepdaughter one day.”

I throw a pillow at her, and then another when she ducks too fast. The second hits her squarely in her face. “Stop! No, just no.”

She winks, and I realize that she was just pushing my buttons. Mostly. But I really should’ve called her out on the Daddy thing about three times ago.

She sets the pillows back on her bed, knife-hand chopping them so they’re perfectly puffed. “Let your dad respect that. Give him a chance to respect that.”

“Okay . . . okay,” I reply, sighing. “Come on, we’re probably going to miss our appointments. And if they take us late, we’ll have to tip double.”

Tiffany holds up her purse. “My treat since it was Ace’s fault we’re late. Again.”

We make it safely down the hallway, but as we pass the kitchen, we’re ambushed by Kevin, who jumps onto Tiffany’s leg, sniffing at her crotch. “Kevin! No!”

She gets the hound off before he becomes a ‘leg hound’, but Kevin isn’t done playing, latching onto the garment bag over Tiffany’s arm and shaking his head. “Rowf!”

“Oh, my God, are you kidding?” Tiffany’s voice has an edge of hysteria to it now. “Kevin! Let go!”

The dog is strong though, yanking backward like this is a game of tug of war and he’s already planned the steak dinner he’s going to feast on as the winner. Tiffany nearly gets jerked off her feet, but she’s fighting for the garment bag with all she’s got because it’s protecting her dress for Mr. Fox’s dinner.

I catch her by the waist, pulling as hard as I can as she gets her balance, the two of us against Kevin. Two against one should put the odds in our favor, but there’s no telling when you’re battle-locked in a tug of war over a dress . . . against a dog.

“Ace, get this dog off my dress!” Tiffany shrieks. “He won’t listen to me and he’s gonna wreck it! Kevin, no! Kevin!”

Her repetition of the dog’s human-like name would make me laugh, but not now when there’s so much at stake. Though I do have a sudden and serious lack of sympathy at Ace’s being made fun of for calling out ‘Dick’ or ‘Rick’ or whatever asinine name he came up with for this monster of a melting-faced dog when he answers his sister.

“Hold on, I’m in a serious match!” Ace snaps, spamming the buttons by the sound of it. “Boom, bitches!”

Kevin shakes his head again, his hunting dog instincts I guess making him clamp down even harder as he twists and snaps his head back and forth.

Suddenly, with an ugly, zipper-like sound, the garment bag tears . . . and I can see that it’s not just the bag that’s torn. The skirt on Tiffany’s dress is nearly ripped in half, the dress ruined.

“Holy fuck!” I gasp as Tiffany screams bloody murder. If her neighbors don’t call the cops now, they need a better Community Watchdog organization.

Kevin, sensing his impending doom, runs off into the kitchen.

“Tiffany—” Ace’s voice is shocked, his eyes horror-filled. But it’s way too little, way too late.

“I’m going to kill you!” Tiffany screams, bursting into tears.

I pull Tiffany out of the house before she can make good on her promise, glaring at Ace with one eye, watching Tiffany’s breakdown with the other, and somehow staying alert for any nosy neighbors or police showing up to find out what the hell’s going on. It’s like the eyes in the back of your head that magically appear when you’re a mom. I’m nowhere near motherhood, but I’m going to take care of my bestie, no matter what.

The whole time, Tiff’s crying, holding the ruined remnants of her dress like it’s the body of a loved one. I get it, she really wanted to look good at the party, and this dress was a chunk of her wardrobe budget. The budget she didn’t have but had to find because of Ace’s last careless mistake. He’s just racking them up, and they’re all at Tiffany’s expense.

“Ace . . .” I call to him from the doorway, pausing while pushing Tiffany out. He looks up, and I can see there’s something going on in his head, something Tiffany isn’t seeing or hasn’t told me, but that doesn’t matter right now. “What you’re doing to Tiff . . . it’s real shitty. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but the pity party’s over. You need to sort your life out, now. I thought you were a better brother than this.”

I let my eyes trace over him, the paused video game, the trash he’s strewn all over his sister’s apartment, and then down the hall where Tiffany is standing, still in shock.

I walk out before Ace can reply, guiding Tiffany toward my car. She’s on the verge of a breakdown, and I’m going to have to get drastic here.