I exhaled slowly, trying to decide how much I had a right to tell her. “She really likes you, Kenni,” I finally said. “And she hasn’t had it easy, so don’t hurt her. If you’re not serious, you owe it to her to tell her.”

My sister eyed me skeptically. “This coming from a woman who loses interest in a fling before the sweat’s even dry.”

“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you,” I said, but she wasn’t listening. She was too busy trying to catch a glimpse of Vanessa around my door frame.

“Did she say that? She said she likes me?”

“Just trust me. And trust her, if something goes wrong.”

“What does that mean?” Kenley frowned up at me.

“Nothing. I gotta get going.” I stepped around her and into the bathroom before she could argue. Twenty minutes later, clean and dressed, I stepped through the shadows in my room and into the darkness in Ian’s bathroom, my hair still damp from the shower.

Heart pounding, I stood there for nearly a minute, listening for voices, or snoring, or footsteps. Anything to tell me where Ian was and whether or not he was alone. But I heard nothing.

My pulse roaring in my ears, I pushed the door open and stepped into the suite. The bedroom and living room were empty. Had he left? Just completely bailed on Jake’s offer? If so, I was dead.

I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans, then walked silently down the hall and back into to the bedroom, intending to see if the sheets were still warm, and on the way, I glanced into the bathroom. I’d left the door open and the room was still empty, but his toothbrush lay on the counter.

When I got to the bed, I threw back the comforter—and nearly shrieked in surprise.

Ian was there, sound asleep, so motionless he could have been comatose. If not for the soft rise and fall of his chest, I might have thought he was dead.

Ian groaned and reached down for the covers in his sleep, and I backed silently away from the bed. When he couldn’t find the covers, his eyes opened and he sat up slowly, one hand rubbing his forehead. He winced, then his eyes opened. He blinked. Then he turned and looked right at me.

I froze, but he managed a smile. “Hey,” he said and flinched, like speaking hurt. Which made sense, considering the half-empty full-size bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. “You’ll have to give me a minute here. Gravity’s a real bitch this morning.”

Sixteen

Ian

“You’re hungover,” Kori said, but there was no accusation in her voice. She sounded…relieved.

“Little bit, yeah.” I ran one hand over my hair, then scrubbed my face, trying to wake up.

“We have to talk.” She sank into a chair in the corner and sat with her hands in her lap, alternately staring at the floor and at me.

“I don’t think I can manage more than single syllable words without some coffee. And maybe a shower.” And definitely a toothbrush.

“I’ll make coffee.” She stood and looked at the open bathroom door, then headed for the hall.

The shower felt good—dual massage heads—but I did not. I hadn’t been that drunk or that hungover in a long time.

Soaked, dizzy and nauseated, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, and only then realized that my suitcase and all my clothes were in the living room. With Kori. Fortunately there was a fresh white terry-cloth robe hanging from the back of the bathroom door.

Wrapped in the robe, I followed the scent of coffee into the living room to find Kori leaning against the counter over the minibar. I reached for the suitcase against one wall. “Just let me get—”

“Did you tell him?” she interrupted, setting an empty coffee mug on the counter.

“Did I tell who what?”

“Jake. Did you tell him about last night? About what I told you?”

I set the suitcase down, resisting the urge to close my eyes and slide down the wall to sit on the floor. “Think about how hungover I am now and how drunk I must have been last night and see if you can follow that thread of logic to its natural conclusion.”

Kori rolled her eyes, and just watching that made me dizzy. “Quit talking like an asshole and just tell me. Please. Did you report me to Jake?”

I crossed the room slowly, drawn as much by the thread of fear in her voice as by the promise of caffeine. “No. I haven’t spoken to anyone in the syndicate since we left the restaurant last night.” And frankly, I was a little insulted that she thought I would tattle on her, even though logically, I knew she had no reason to trust me.

Kori took a deep breath, then met my gaze. “What will it take to keep you from reporting me?”

I frowned and gripped the back of the couch for balance. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“I’m negotiating.” She opened the cabinet next to the minibar and pulled out a sugar dish full of packets of artificial sweetener. “And it’d be a lot easier if you’d give me a starting point.”

“Why?” I sank into an armchair across from her, acutely aware that I was nude beneath the robe, and tried to catch her gaze again. “Why are you negotiating? Why do you live life like you’re constantly volleying for position or looking for an advantage? Life isn’t a contract to be negotiated, Kori.”

“Mine is, and you’re only making that harder.”

“Okay, if you don’t mind, I’m going to offer an amateur diagnosis.” I’d come into the room for underwear and wound up playing shrink instead. “But please keep in mind that I’m extremely hungover at the moment. Either the room is spinning around me, or I’m actually tilting in this chair.”