I didn’t move. “Just out with it. I’m ready.” Or, rather, I was resigned. Resigned to listen, resigned to this feeling of betrayal. I was not resigned to agree, but, if experience told me anything, I probably had no other option.
Amber pursed her lips, unhappy that I’d refused her invitation. “You’re going to be difficult, aren’t you?” she teased.
When I didn’t answer, she sighed. “It’s not just me who needs protection anymore.” She said it softly, breaking the news gently.
“You think I don’t know that?” It had been the more selfish of my current worries. If Vilanakis had killed Chris because of what he knew, what would he do to me? I was half sure the only reason I’d been able to leave his hotel room alive was because I still had a possibility of proving useful. What would he do when he realized I didn’t have the power over Reeve that he imagined I had?
What would he do when it became apparent that I wasn’t even with Reeve anymore?
“I’ll hire protection,” I said, resolutely. “Joe will help. Won’t you, Joe? Or direct me to someone who can do the job?”
“There will be quite a few things I’d want to put in place before I felt you were safe back in LA.” He appeared sincerely contrite as he added, “Going away to a private island for a few weeks while I arrange that isn’t a bad idea.”
“You didn’t think my leaving was such a bad idea last night. Last night when Reeve kicked you off the ranch. Remember that? Now you’re on his side?” Apparently, I was still capable of expressing emotion after all.
“A lot has happened since then,” he said patiently.
I let out an exasperated groan, tears of frustration brimming under my lids.
“Sit by me.” Amber patted the cushion next to her. “Hear us out.”
Us. The word referred to her and Joe, but I knew all the power behind it was Reeve. This conversation had been arranged by him. This intervention. I’d told him not to tell me to stay, and he’d found a way around it.
Frowning, I circled the couch and plopped on the spot between the two of them. “I’m listening.”
“The island is secluded,” Amber began, as if reciting from a travel brochure. “He owns all of it. Besides the resort on the opposite shore, his private compound is the only developed land. He’s personally informed when anyone lands or docks and, unlike here at the ranch, his home there is not shared with any guests or seasonal workers.”
“The security system there is the most advanced of all his properties. It was apparently designed to be a safe house of sorts.” Despite his encouragement, Joe’s tone belied that a man who needed such an asylum was not the kind of man he approved of.
“It will only be for a couple of weeks, Em. Just long enough for Reeve’s men to negotiate some sort of peace.” Her argument was sound and convincing, but, like Joe, her expression showed a lack of enthusiasm for her viewpoint.
I pulled my legs up to my chest, rested a cheek on my knees, and studied her. I hadn’t seen her since Jenkins had been found dead, and I hadn’t spoken to her since we’d been on the roof together. So she knew that I’d had a relationship with Reeve. I’d been ridiculous to ever think she wouldn’t figure that out immediately.
“Don’t you want time alone with Reeve?” It was harder than I thought it would be to make the suggestion. “A secluded island paradise – it sounds awfully romantic.”
“It’s definitely romantic,” she agreed. “He took me there for a getaway once last year.”
It wasn’t my imagination that she was boasting. Reminding me of the relationship she’d had with him before me. Reminding me that she’d had him first.
I had things to remind her of as well. Like how easily I could see through her. “You don’t really want me there.” It wasn’t an accusation. It was simply the truth. I understood where she was coming from – I didn’t want her on that island with Reeve either.
For a second, she looked like she might deny it.
Then, she didn’t. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.”
“I know.” I was so sincere in that statement that I said it again. “I know.”
There was a strange comfort in the confirmation that our friendship was important and separate from Reeve, as separate as it could be with the entanglement we’d found ourselves in.
“It’s just… you know, PGR.” She winked.
PGR – Pretty Girl Ratio – was an Amber-created term that I hadn’t thought about in years. It was used to refer to the ratio of attractive women to attractive men in any given social situation. When we were between men and in search of a new one, we’d choose which opportunities were best for the possibility of finding one based on the PGR. At the bar of a luxury hotel, for example, if a peek inside showed a high ratio of pretty girls to wealthy men, we’d find another bar. Why stack the odds against ourselves? she’d say.
Her use of the term now was obvious. The two of us to Reeve – someone was guaranteed to lose. And even when I would surely be that loser, it would be a bitter victory for her. She was the girl who always won, but she wasn’t heartless.
I bit my lip. “If you don’t want me there, then why are you asking me to come?” I knew the answer so I didn’t wait for hers. “Because Reeve told you to ask me, right? That’s not like you to let someone else make your decisions for you.”
Her grin was coy, saying she was both proud and a touch embarrassed to be called out on her reputation as a diva. “You know how to play the game,” she said. “Sometimes when you’re trying to win the guy, you have to forget who you are for a minute and be who he wants you to be.”