Page 86 of Empire State Enemies

“Oh, hey, this is a little awkward,” Willow says, lowering her voice conspiratorially like she doesn’t want Connor to hear. “Last night with Connor was magical, but he needs to step it up publicly, you know? For the press narrative.”

She pauses before hitting me with, “Could you suggest to him that he buy me that new Tiffany choker thatVogueis raving about? The super exclusive one with only a few in existence? I just think a symbolic gesture like that could really showcase our devotion.”

I nearly gag at her brazen move, but I keep my cool. “Yeah sure, I can pass along the request. I can’t guarantee it, though.”

I know full well she could buy a diamond choker for every day of the week herself. This is about Connor kneeling publicly in front of her. An Instagrammable romance ritual.

“Great. Thanks, Lexi.”

I say bye and toss my phone down in disgust as a hungover-as-fuck Kayla blinks at me.

???

The absolute last placeon earthI want to be today is Quinn & Wolfe headquarters. And the absolute last man I want to lay eyes on is Connor bloody Quinn.

But, for the sake of this upcomingHello, New Yorkinterview that’s supposed to paint him as boyfriend of the year, I have to grit my teeth and handle a strategy session with Prince Charming himself.

He grunts a greeting when I enter his office, looking exhausted from his all-night romp with Miss Wholesome America. His shirt’s undone, displaying his tanned chest because he’s physically incapable of buttoning above the fourth hole apparently. Annoyingly, my pulse kicks up despite still simmering over his nasty comments last night.

Vallure PR is a joke company.

Boom.

She’s probably already eyeing your black AmEx and loosening that dress zipper.

Boom.

The first one I don’t care about so much. The second one, I definitely fucking do. That one has replayed in an infuriating mental loop since. How dare he.

“Are you satisfied with the press coverage?” I ask crisply, taking a seat. I plan to keep this quick and professional. In and out.

He grunts again, not tearing his eyes away from his screen. “Long as Willow’s not complaining, I don’t care.”

Charming as ever.

I call upon my last scraps of professionalism. “Speaking of your lady love, she has a suggestion. She wants you to buy her a diamond Tiffany choker so she can showcase it on her Instagram and show how devoted you are.”

That gets his attention. His gaze locks on mine, intense and piercing. “And how’s a piece of jewelry supposed to prove I’mdevoted?” His tone is laced with skepticism. And possibly a hint of disdain.

I brace myself. “It’s not just any piece. It’s going to set you back a quarter mil.”

A shadow of irritation flickers across his face. “Fine. Just handle it.”

Just handle it. Sure, no problem. I’ll just pop on over to Tiffany’s and plunk down a quarter of a million dollars like it’s chump change.

His dismissive tone sets my nerves on edge. Not even a raised eyebrow? A jaw clench? Nothing? “That’s your take? Dropping hundreds of thousands on a trinket merits no reaction?”

He rolls his eyes as if I’m wasting his precious time. “What do you want from me?”

What do I want from him? A dozen reckless thoughts skitter through my mind, each more inappropriate than the last, before I tamp them down.

I want to strangle you with the stupid choker. I want to take that money and run.

“Seriously? You’re okay with shelling out for a two-hundred-and-fifty-grand necklace that means nothing to you?” I ask incredulously, my voice rising with each word.

“Unless you’d rather explain to Willow why her ‘devoted’ boyfriend can’t be bothered with ‘symbolic gestures.’” He lays on the sarcasm thick.

Taking a deep breath, trying to collect myself, I watch as he runs a hand over his shaved head. He lounges back, the action causing his loosely buttoned shirt to gape ever further, revealing a swath of his bronzed chest. I drag my gaze away.