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She knew Dani had only come looking for trouble. She should have turned the other cheek.

But if Dillon was honest with herself, she knew she’d just been waiting for an excuse. Whatever reason she could find to palliate the guilt of taking that first sip.

“How would I know what to think, Dillon?” Kam stepped back. Her friend Sophie called her name from the dining room; they were ready to light the candles. “You never tell me anything.”

Leaning against the wet bar, Dillon set the glass to her lips, watching her walk away.

She was borderline drunk—she knew that. Half a decade without alcohol followed by back-to-back-to-back martinis tended to have that effect.

But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She’d forgotten what it felt like—the rush of endorphins delivering all the highs of a win without the struggle or work it took to get there. The way the burn of vodka crept into all the hollow places, filling her with temporary peace.

She watched as Grady carried out the two-tier cake and they all sangHappy Birthday. For a moment, Kam’s eyes found hers as she made her wish, but by the time Dillon convinced her lips into a smile, Kam had already looked away.

The night slogged on. There was a toast to Kam, parlor games, a competitive round of movie trivia Dillon used as justification to get another drink.

By midnight, the small group had dwindled. From her place by the window, Dillon saw Elliott check his watch. Grady and his wife shifted in their seats. Dillon was tired, the effects of the alcohol waning. She was ready to be alone with Kam. She owed her an apology.

But Dani appeared to have no intention of leaving.

Unlike the other guests, who’d made little fanfare of their exotic gifts—ranging from L.R. Sims’ bestowal of a photography session with Annie Leibovitz, to Elliott’s ten-day excursion on the exclusive atoll of Tetiaroa, or even the diamond-encrusted bottle ofGlenfiddichWaylon MacArthur had discreetly sent over via courier—Dani seized on the opportunity of the captive audience, commanding attention to the center of the room.

“Oh,” she exclaimed loudly, as if an afterthought had struck her, digging a palm-size navy blue parcel out of her Louis Vuitton purse. The glance she cast toward Dillon held the hint of a challenge. “I almost forgot!” She handed the box to Kam. “It’s just a little thing, but I did have it made custom…”

Caught off guard at the interruption from her conversation with Grady, Kam tugged the filigree ribbon loose, flipping the box open.

“I—” The word hung in the abrupt silence. “It’s… wow, Dani.”

From the reflection in the vase beside Kameryn, Dillon could see it was a necklace. A heavy chain of yellow gold hung with an emerald-studded star pendant. It amazed Dillon, after so many years, that Dani still knew Kam so little. That her own love of showy flamboyance blinded her to Kam’s preference for the understated. Delicate chains. Petite charms. Her fondness for silver…

Impatient at Kam’s hesitation, Dani snatched up the necklace to display it to the room.

“Twenty-two emeralds—your birthstone, of course—to celebrate every year of our friendship. And the star goes without saying. It’s pure gold, so I took the liberty of including an insurance policy.”

“‘It’s just a little thing,’” Elliott mimicked Dani’s voice with surprising accuracy. “Says the woman handing out bespokeHarry Winstonas she goes out of her way to pretend it’s nothing.” He rattled the ice cubes around his glass beforetipping back its contents. The remnants of his limited filter had vanished, down the hatch with the whiskey. “That’s the kind of gift I typically reserve when I’m trying to get someone to sleep with me. Look out, Dillon,” he winked in her direction, “you might have some competition.”

Dani shot him a hostile glare. She was noticeably drunk, but not so drunk as to mistake his taunting for playful banter. All evening he’d called her out on her showboating. There was no question he didn’t like her.

She ruffled herself, clinging to her air of superiority. “It’s hardly surprising a guy like you has to buy his way into a woman’s bed. Indisputable proof money can’t buy good breeding.”

“Ironic, coming from the woman gasconading a thirty-thousand-dollar hunk of metal while trying to pass it off for anything other than what it is—a last-ditch-effort buy-in.”

“It’s almost like you’re jealous. Perhaps I’m not the one with my eye on Kameryn?”

“‘A hit. A very palpable hit,’” Elliott covered his heart with dramatic flare, entirely amused at the irony of her accusations. It was evident Dani wasn’t privy to his secrets. “‘False face must hide what the false heart doth know.’”

“Oh please,” Dani huffed, “take your Bible verses elsewhere.”

“Methinks you’ve mistakenMacBethforMatthew.”

Oblivious to the reference, and furious at his uncensored—however warranted—roasting, Dani spun her focus back to Kameryn.

“As I was saying,” her knuckles were white where she clutched the medallion, “as the friend who knows you better than anyone—I wanted to give you something personal. Something a little more intimate than, oh, say a trip to French Polynesia.” She cast Elliott another withering glare.

Elliott mimed a tennis serve, tossing a balled-up napkin onto the floor. “Game, set, match. All that blustering and you’re still falling one point short of a victory. Because something tells me—if bequeathing the mostintimategift is the killshot of the evening—it’s Dillon who’s got the one-up on all of us.”

“Okay,” Grady—who’d remained silent through the back-and-forth exchange—laughed, clapping his hands to his knees while shooting his wife the universal let’s-get-out-of-here signal. “On that note, I think it’s time—”