Page 19 of The Love Bandits

I try not to feel the guilty ache in my chest.

I might have wrecked the apartment of an innocent man. I guess that makesmethe asshole.

“Have you guys watched the clip from the documentary yet?” Claire asks. I texted them both to let them know what I’d learned about the necklace—Nicole because she’s my business partner, and Claire because she’s the person I tell everything to.

Almost everything.

I haven’t told either of them that I climbed into Jake Jeffries’s lap or ground against his hard cock while he gripped my hips and hair and held me against him—a memory that sends a wash of heat through me. If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about that moment several times over the last few days and occasionally touched myself to get some relief.

Clearing my throat, I say, “No. I got home five minutes ago. Mrs. Rosings decided at the last minute that she wanted to do the whole necklace presentation thing at her party, so we had to unearth a few display cases from the basement. She also has an extremely ugly broach she’s going to present to Nina. She plans on asking her to wear it to the wedding as her something borrowed.”

Claire shakes her head fondly. “She’ll stop at nothing.”

“I have to get Nina out,” I insist.

Claire gives me a sad, knowing look. “Lainey…I think Mrs. Rosings is right about her.”

I snort. “I know she is. She needs to be saved from herself.”

“Some women are just assholes,” Nicole says through a mouthful of Bronut. “No silent crying on the inside. No regret. No empathy. I know this from personal experience.”

“You mean from your own experience of being one of those women.” I don’t actually mean it—Nicole is tough as hell, but only someone who doesn’t know her would accuse her of not having a conscience.

“Nina hasn’t exactly been kind to you,” Claire puts in, which is Claire-speak forshe’s been a raging bitch, Lainey.And I suppose it’s true. While Nina has been sweet as saccharine mixed with simple syrup to Mrs. Rosings, she’s treated me like I’m something the cat’s dragged in.She negs me. She sighs dramatically every time I say anything in Anthony’s presence,acting as if I’m too stupid to live. And she asks me to do things for her like I’m her own personal footman.

Because she can.

That doesn’t speak of a stellar personality, but maybe she’s just desperate. Desperation can do strange things to a person. I once purchased three collared shirts and a string of expensive pearls that looked like plastic balls.

“She’s a tiger, caught in a trap,” I argue. “She’s lashing out.”

“She’s the one who made the trap,” Claire says sadly.

“And she’ll probably scratch out the eyes of the person who’s dumb enough to let her out,” Nicole says tipping the rest of her Bronut at me. “You know, you went to the trouble of telling us that long, mostly disinteresting story about your mother, but you missed the point, Mata Hari. The real takeaway is that you should take no one at their word. Especially people who seem to be above suspicion.”

Her words seep into me.

She’s right, dammit.

I’m guessing she doubted Cleo’s story all along. Maybe I would have, too, if I didn’t feel so raw over what happened with Todd. So like a tiger who wanted to bite back and prove to the world—and myself—that I couldn’t be contained again, by anyone.

“You knew I was messing up and you let me do it anyway,” I say, running a hand over Professor X’s little ears for comfort. She swats me with her paw.

“You’re like a baby bird learning to fly,” Nicole replies with a grin. “How are you going to learn if I don’t let you fall a few times? Besides, I figured the risk was pretty low.”

“Forrobbery?” Claire asks.

Nicole laughs. “For nabbing a necklace from a therapist? This woman is a badass. You saw that bat she took from her fiancé. There’s no way Toodles doesn’t know she has it.”

“He knows,” I say tightly.

“See!” Nicole says, waving a hand at me. “That super rich dude knows she has his precious bat, and he hasn’t tried to get it back.” She nods as if agreeing with herself. “And that’s because he knows better than to try. I wasn’t worried about her.”

That makes me feel slightly better, but then I get a flash of Jake’s face when he told me to leave.Shit. I didn’t care what he thought of me when I was sure he was a cheating, lying, stealing so-and-so, but now…

Maybe he’s still all of those things. Maybe Cleo will be able to explain everything.

But I feel like that ten-year-old girl again, standing in the lobby of Marjorie Eccles’s building.

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