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"I think it's perfect. Concern for the other people who were injured, while making it clear you're not actually involved in any way. This wasn't about the film. It was about the prince. About conflicts in the Middle East—not contraceptives."

I open my eyes—my toes, the nails painted glossy red, peek out from the bubble-laced water.

Mary takes a breath. I take another sip of rosé.

“Have you looked at the news at all?” Mary asks.

I make a noise that means no.

“The verdict forProvidence Trust Bank vs. Consumer Protection Bureaucame out.”

My throat constricts. I’m being strangled.Which case is it?There are two major ones in front of the Supreme Court right now.

My brain scrambles to remember. The banking one…Consumer Protection Bureau is the enforcement agency responsible for overseeing compliance with fair banking practices. The other case, the one about property rights, isSummit Crest HOA vs. Equal Housing Opportunity Authority.

“It didn’t go our way.” Mary’s tone is stark, bald. Like this fact has bounced off her armor without leaving a dent. “You need to reach out to Lauren,” she says, referencing my financial advisor. “And Tamara.” My attorney. “I’ll tell you, I’m getting married.”

My heart is beating against the constriction in my throat.

“It’s a lavender marriage—we’ve been friends for decades. The contract will be ironclad, and I’ll keep all of my assets. So will he. His boyfriend is marrying someone else. It just makes sense right now. Better to be safe than sorry.”

A knock at the bathroom door draws my focus. I still can’t breathe. "I have to go," I tell Mary. "Zade is here, I need to get ready."

"All right, honey, you’ll be amazing tonight. You always are.” She sounds motherly now. “If you need anything at all you know you can call me. And let me know what Lauren and Tamara say.”

The door creaks open.It's not Zade.They have never entered a room so slowly—Zade blazes into spaces.

Adrenaline pumps into my system, cracking through the sense of heaviness and forcing me to move. I sit up, my breasts almost breaching the bubbles. Dropping the phone onto the bathmat, I sink my glass under the bubbles, hiding it from whoever is creeping in here. It’s the only weapon at hand.

Ash's bulk appears, his head turned away.

"Fuck," I say. "You scared the shit out of me." I take a breath. A big one.

"Sorry.” His voice is gruff. Ash keeps his back to me as he closes the door. "I need to tell you something." He keeps his hand on the knob—as if he plans to make a run for it any second now.

"Okay." I still grip the wine glass under the water.

Ash’s broad shoulders rise on an inhale. He's removed his jacket and is just wearing the white button-down shirt. It's a few shades darker than the medical bandage at the back of his head—which looks stark even in the flickering candlelight. “Temperance is coming here."

My heart thunders. "When?"

"He will be in your room when you come home from the premiere tonight." Ash’s voice remains even, like he's reporting on the weather but gives no fucks about the impending storm.

"Thank you for telling me." My voice doesn’t waver. I sound fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.

"Well," he says, a note of teasing coming into his voice. "I didn't want to die."

A huff of a laugh escapes. I’m safe. No one is actually strangling me right now. "I didn't want to kill you."

Silence falls, the subtle pop of bubbles the only sound in the echoing space. The tension in me torques. Ash nods, as if he's made some decision and then pulls on the doorknob.

"Wait," I say. He freezes, body stiffening.

God, I want to break him. Snap his control so badly. Gain some kind of power right now. “Can you pass me a towel?" I ask, the burning question of every ingenue.

Ash takes a breath before he answers. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"