Enemy's Secret - Ashlee Price Page 0,3

freckled face beaming at the news. She pauses. "Why don't you sound more psyched about it?"

Ugh, just tell her.

But I don't want to. Living through it once was enough - do I really have to recap?

"You saw him, didn't you?" Pamela says quietly. "Landon."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't totally unexpected." I force a laugh. "He's president of Storm Media now. What did I expect?"

A representative, another brother, maybe... oh, who was I kidding? I've been dreading this court date for weeks.

"I better come over," Pamela says gently.

"No, no, honestly it's fine," I say. "Madison and I are just doing crafts. It's soothing, really."

"Madison goes to bed in like a half hour," Pamela says. "And then you'll get to watching Angel and sipping that horrible sad mint tea you like and... that's it. I'm coming."

"Fine," I say. "But we aren't finishing a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's mint ice cream like last time."

"Last time was nine years ago," Pamela says with a sniff. "I don't think bingeing on ice cream once every nine years is exactly grounds for a heart attack or anything."

"Alright," I say. "But we're still watching Angel."

Pamela chuckles. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

An hour or so later, after Madison's been tucked in, my doorbell rings.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," Pamela says, grocery bag on arm.

I roll my eyes. "Are we honestly trying to recreate the last time? Because it was bad enough then."

"No-o-o," Pamela says. "Just - ice cream makes everything better."

"That I can't argue with," I admit. "And you got the mint?"

"Did I get the mint," Pamela says, with her own eye roll, then sighs. "Yeah, they were actually out, so Rocky Road will have to do."

"I'm just glad you're here," I say.

She hugs me, and I hug her back, hard. "Don't worry. You're going to get through this. You already did once."

"I know," I say. "I'm not worried. It's just annoying, more than anything."

She nods. "Right. Want to talk first, or Angel?"

"Why not both?"

Pamela tosses a red curl out of her face with a smirk. "We have watched every season like - what - eight times?"

"You can never over-watch a masterpiece," I say firmly.

"Yeah, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Landon looks like Angel, at all," Pamela says significantly.

"None whatsoever," I reply icily.

A few minutes later, we're plopped on my couch in front of season three of Angel, eating Rocky Road out of the tub.

"Kyra," Pamela says quietly. "It's OK if you're not completely OK, you know."

Something I'd been holding tight loosens. "I know. It's just... I can't afford to take my eyes off the goal. But seeing him like that - and how he acted. Just like before. Just like in the beginning. You know - crazy about me. Like there's nothing else on earth he wants. Except me."

"That dick," Pamela mutters.

"But that's the thing," I say. "That's just Landon. He sees something he wants, he goes for it all-out. He isn't doing it to screw with me or anything." I scowl. "But then how he gloated to Nolan over the phone, like he was some big-shot who could get me, easy. Ugh. I just wish I could... forget it."

"Get him back for what he did to you?" Pamela wonders with an evil grin.

A smile touches my face, although I don't reply.

"Why not?" she presses. "He deserves it."

"Maybe," I say. "But I can't afford to take my eye off the goal. I just have to get through this case in one piece, hopefully even win it. Anyway, maybe this will be my revenge: seeing his company finally sunk by all the unethical things they've done."

"Hell yeah." Pamela grins. "It's my company they screwed over."

I shake my head. "It just seems so unlike him, Storm Media, even - plagiarism. Although I guess I shouldn't be surprised, with all the other sketchy shit they're embroiled in lately."

Pamela lightly squeezes my hand. "You don't really know him anymore, Ky."

"I know, Pompom." I close my eyes. "Not sure I ever did."

I force a smile as I lean my head on her shoulder. "Although I do know one thing."

"Yeah?"

"I never would've gotten through the break-up or these past years without you. Honestly."

"Hey, you would've done the same for me, if I had a relationship that lasted more than five minutes," she says with a chuckle. "And by the way: yes, you totally would've gotten through it. Now, speaking of, did I tell you about my insane date with that Italian chef?"

"No." I sit up,