“All charges have been dropped.”
He scoffs. “You really put the Layton lawyers through all kinds of acrobatics on those, don’t you?”
I got nothing to say to that.
Taking advantage of my silence, Faulk continues, “Look, you’d be earning four times as much, and you’d be head of security instead of a glorified babysitter for the spoiled prince. You know it’s a good deal, man.”
“Except for Amber.”
“This is a satellite office. She won’t be here.” He steps closer, but not so close as to show Edmund and Dani—if they’re even watching—that we’re in a conversation. “Think about it, will you? No need to answer now. You still have my number, yeah?”
“I still have your number.” We were never friends, but we were friendly enough to grab a drink in the beginning, before I was so isolated I wouldn’t have recognized a friend if I’d had one.
“Good. Don’t be a stranger. And think about the offer.”
I keep my phone held to my ear for a couple of minutes after Faulk turns and walks away.
His argument is solid, and if I’ve ever needed to quit working for the Laytons, it’s now.
6
Edmund
I can’t fucking believe Troy. He thinks Danica could be with both of us? No. Fuck, no. I saw what happened with my parents. I don’t want that for Danica and me.
Maybe it makes me a selfish asshole. But because I’m selfish, I don’t care.
I catch sight of Troy outside. He’s staring down the street while he talks on his phone. He’s been my best friend for a long fucking time. It hurts to put a sudden limit on the boundaries of our friendship, but I’ll sacrifice everything in the world to make this marriage with Danica work.
There’s something odd in his stance. He doesn’t look quite like himself out there. I stare for a moment, before Danica tugs on my sleeve.
“How about that one?” She points at what is probably the biggest fucking diamond I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“If you want it, it’s yours.”
She wrinkles her nose, like I’ve given the wrong answer. But I’m not lying. As my bride, she’ll want for nothing.
“Over here.” She traipses to one of the smaller tables, hidden in the corner.
I follow the flounce of her skirt, her shapely legs, the bratty little bounce in her step. “What did you find?”
“This is the one I want.” She points to a nondescript ring with a tiny, solitaire jewel. It’s so small, people will be whipping out magnifying glasses to see if it’s a diamond.
This can’t be right. Not for Danica. I shake my head. “What is this? It looks like something out of an old bubble gum machine.”
“It’s the one I want.” She folds her arms across her chest.
Bratty little liar.
The jeweler ambles over in a cloud of perfume, her suit jacket straining over her shoulders. She looks dubiously at the ring. “This is the one?”
“Yep,” Danica says at the same time I say, “No.”
The jeweler’s blond eyebrows move high on her forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t quite hear?—”
“My bride isn’t feeling well.” I wrap an arm around Danica and hold tightly while she tries to squirm away. “We need the restroom.”
“Yes, Mr. Layton.” The jeweler points to a nondescript door. “I’ll buzz you through, sir.”
