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ONE

AUDREY

“I’ve gotrope in my trunk.” Violet slides a leather-bound cocktail menu toward me. “We could always kidnap you.”

I nearly choke on my water. “Why do you have rope in your trunk?”

Violet winks. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Iris flips her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder.

“I’m with Violet on this one. We could just tie you up, throw you in the back of my Jeep, and drive to Mexico. Your mom would never find us.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously amazing friends, you mean,” Iris corrects with a smile.

It’s Saturday night, and the three of us are squeezed into a curved leather booth at the Azure Lounge, the city’s most exclusive rooftop bar. The place is all glass and chrome, with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the glittering San Diego harbor thirty-two floors below.

“This place is insane,” I murmur, watching a yacht drift past in the distance. “How did you even get us a table?”

Iris waves her hand dismissively. “My cousin knows the manager. Plus, it’s your going-away party. I told them it was life or death.”

“Moving back to Wyoming isn’t death,” I protest.

“It might as well be.” Violet adjusts her designer glasses. “Especially in these circumstances.”

A server appears at our table. He’s tall, gorgeous, and probably an aspiring actor like half the staff in this city.

“Ladies, what can I get started for you tonight?”

Iris doesn’t even glance at the menu. “A Dirty Shirley for me, please. Extra dirty.”

“Me too, please. Make mine a double,” Violet adds.

The server’s eyes linger on me expectantly. “And for you?”

I tap my chin thoughtfully. Usually, I like to nurse one glass of wine all night. But for some reason, I’m feeling bold.

“A Dirty Shirley for me too,” I tell him.

When he walks away, Iris shakes her head and gives me a sad smile. “I still can’t believe this is your last night.”

“Me either,” I reply with a sigh. These two have been my best friends since I moved to San Diego to study art history five years ago. Leaving feels like ripping off a limb.

“So you’re really doing this?” Violet finally asks. “You’re really getting engaged to an actual criminal?”

“Alleged criminal,” I correct weakly.

“Please. Everyone knows Gio Vega runs half the illegal gambling operations on the West Coast.” Iris doesn’t bother lowering her voice. “Not to mention the bodies that keep?—”

“Iris!”

“What? It’s true.” She leans forward. “I cannot believe your stepmom is making you do this.”

“She’s not making me do anything.” I take a deep breath. “I’m choosing this. To save Worthington Sports. My dad built that company from nothing. It was everything to him.”

I can still picture my dad in his element. He was a former heavyweight champion turned entrepreneur, walking the floors of the Worthington Sports headquarters in Cooper Heights like he owned the world. Which, for a while, he did. The small mountain town in Wyoming had never seen success like ours. Dad went from local boxing hero to millionaire businessman, and he brought the whole community up with him.