bottom of my stomach and force myself back into my role as Cara Smith. It’s a feeble attempt at indifference, when all I want to do is double over and cry. The constraint on my emotion is hardly passable, but Talent doesn’t recognize it.
“I know all about your family, Talent. You don’t have to worry about me saying anything to harm your reputation. Discretion is part of my job.”
“You don’t know a thing about my family.” Talent becomes very, very still. He narrows his eyes at me and asks, “What are you talking about? Your job?”
“You know what,” I say. I hold a hand up to him. “This one’s on me.”
“What exactly is on you?” he quizzes. The color of his eyes darkens, and his hands form fists at his sides.
I press my lips together to keep from laughing at how badly this turned out. This exact situation is why I don’t break my own rules, and it won’t happen again. “Earlier you wanted to say you don’t usually sleep with escorts—”
Talent furrows his eyebrows and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I was going to say I don’t usually fuck potential clients in my office. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re lying.” My blood runs cold.
He points at me. “You’re an escort? I didn’t hire an escort. I’ve never seen you a day in my damned life.”
My purse is on the floor between us, open from its fall. I step forward to retrieve it, and Talent retreats, as if I’m something to be frightened of.
“I’m not sure what you’re playing at,” I say, plucking my purse from the floor. I head to the door. “But you don’t have to worry about me saying anything. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I didn’t hire you,” he says, seething.
“Someone did.” I raise my voice. “Someone from this office arranged the date. I apologize for the confusion, but you didn’t seem too confused when you were fucking me on your desk.”
“Get out.”
“Gladly,” I say, storming away.
My driver is nowhere to be seen.
He’s supposed to be right where I left him.
Right. Here.
Control spirals farther and farther out of reach, and my world flips upside down with it. I press my lips together in an effort to keep fury trapped in my throat. Tenacity is the only thing preventing me from lashing out, and with my driver performing a disappearing act, I need to find my way home. A meltdown will only prolong this misery.
Suck it up, Lydia, I think to myself. You’ve gotten yourself out of bigger messes than this.
Stepping to the curb, I look from right to left, down the street illuminated by signal lights and passing headlights. The idea of Talent watching this pathetic display from his window gives me the muscle to raise my hand and hail a cab.
It takes mere seconds before a car stops to pick me up. I immediately open the passenger side door and get in, reciting my address. The cab driver stares at me through the rearview mirror, taking in my haphazard attire and ruined lipstick. Her attention flicks to the Ridge building, and we both know what she’s thinking.
Whore.
Passing her a hundred-dollar bill, I say, “I’m in a hurry.”
The cabbie merges into traffic, a hundred dollars richer. I’m thankful for her discretion. She can’t bring herself to speak to the prostitute in her back seat, and I can’t stomach a lie quick enough to appease her anyway.
What happened in Talent’s office is my worst-case scenario. He has the power to destroy my carefully crafted façade and the illusion of peace I’ve built in Grand Haven. How long will it take for him to find out who I am? The Ridge & Sons name is too important to get the authorities involved, but will he run me out of town? Do I have the strength to start over again in another city? Reinventing myself after my mom died was nearly impossible. What if I’m not tough enough to do it again?
Anxiety rocks me from the inside out. My knees, hands, and vision tremble. I hold on to the sticky fake-leather seat and bite the inside of my cheek as memories from my life before Inez and Hush course through my head. I know how temporary contentment is. When I was a young girl, contentment was a warm meal in my stomach and a roof over my head. Which became less of a sure thing after any sense of maternal coherence left Cricket. Once I