Page 97 of Fit for Love

Her eyes gleam.“Because of Kendall?”

I frown.“How do you know her name?”

“I know a lot more than that.”

Translation from crazy speak: she probably hacked the hospital again, learned the name from Jordan’s visiting record, and then stalked Kendall online.

“My sister is waiting for me,” I say.“Have a nice life.”

“Wait,” Gwyneth says.“Don’t go.”

I wave the crackers.“Jordan is waiting for this.”And more importantly, we have nothing to talk about.

“Your parents will never approve of her,” Gwyneth says.

I shrug.“Not that it’s any of your business, but in fact, they like her just fine.Not that I care.”The opposite, in fact.

“They won’t like her once they learn what she does,” Gwyneth says.

“Why not?Mom loves fashion, and Dad only cares about?—”

“Not that,” she snaps.“Her other business.The one for perverts.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Gwyneth smiles triumphantly.“You don’t know, do you?”

I narrow my eyes.“Know what?”

She takes out her phone and types something in before showing me the screen.“Do these look familiar?”

I look at the URL first.It’s the website porn stars use to milk money from their fans.This specific page belongs to someone named Candy Berlin, and all she’s posted there are feet.

Tons and tons of pictures of feet.

Wait a second.

Those are familiar-looking feet, and not just because of the taupe-colored nail polish, and the two silvery toe rings, and the golden anklet.

I know these feet.

I like them.

I came on them.

These are Kendall’s, but?—

“She sells her dirty socks as well.”Gwyneth wrinkles her nose.“Or if you have serious cash to burn, she can sell you her used Manolo Blahniks.”

Sells used socks?Ihavenoticed her putting worn socks into plastic bags a couple of times.I thought it was some neat freak tendency, or some weird girl thing where she was afraid that I might smell something I shouldn’t, but she’s selling them?

“If you don’t believe me, I can show you how I found this,” Gwyneth says.“It was pretty trivial, actually.All I had to do was?—”

“Now, Gwyneth, listen to me very carefully.”I let my turbulent emotions show in my tone.“If you mention this to anyone again—or so much as google Kendall’s name—I will be talking to my new client, who happens to be Director of the FBI.”

She pales.“You wouldn’t want your client to know that your girlfriend is a?—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll call him right now.”Just to show her I’m not bluffing, I pull up his contact in my phone and turn the screen toward her.

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