Page 98 of Empire State Enemies

If she only knew.

Mom jumps aboard the happy train too. “That’s incredible, Gracie! What are those Quinn guys like? They as shark-like as everyone says? I’ve been glued toSuitsand I imagine them as a pair of Harvey Specters in the wild.”

I can’t help but snort. “Try Patrick Bateman inAmerican Psycho,” I say, my voice tight. “All the more reason to steer clear.”

But Grace is undeterred. “Come on, it’s a great opportunity. Plus, think of the money. We could even move to a bigger place.”

I lose it. “Grace, just cut it out!” I snap, louder than I intend. “It’s not happening. Drop it, okay?”

They both freeze, staring at me like I’ve sprouted twin horn-like spires myself.

Mom’s face creases with worry. “Lexi, you sure everything’s okay?”

I burst into tears right there in the middle of the path.

The big, angry kind that feel like they’ve been stewing for ages. These aren’t your gentle sniffles. Oh no, this is the big league, the I’ve-had-it-up-to-here-with-this-crap waterworks.

I gave him the power to make me feel worthless. I should have known better than to expect any decency from that arrogant prick. He hadn’t even pulled off the condom when he shoved me out the door like I was nothing. And now I feel like a piece of trash, used and tossed aside after his massive dick had its fun with me.

Thanks for the memories, asshole.

???

Strutting into the flashyHello, New Yorkstudio for Connor and Willow’s interview, I’m weirdly upbeat about Friday’s catastrophe. It’s Monday and I’ve had time to chill since then.

The debris of Friday has settled because I realized something important—my worst fear manifested. Connor knows all the dirty details.

And you know what? The world didn’t end. Here I am, still standing, breathing, and surprisingly not in handcuffs. He’s not dialing 9-1-1 on me.

Connor rejecting me so brutally after fucking me puts us on equal ground in my book. He doesn’t have power over me anymore. I’m not going to jump or tense up every time he enters the room.

Grace tippy-toed around me post-meltdown, brewing tea and tidying up like she’s auditioning for the role of the next Florence Nightingale.

This weekend marked a rare moment of vulnerability in front of Mom and Grace, a scene not witnessed since Dad’s passing. Both of them looked seriously freaked. You’d think they caught me shifting into werewolf form. They love to poke fun at my usual hard shell. Grace is the softie.

I mumbled something about work stress, and off we went on a merry-go-round of advice—new job prospects, the magical healing powers of yoga, kombucha, and whatever the hell pressure point tapping is.

And I’m sure as hell not going to cry anymore.

A new Lexi is stepping onto the scene today.

My hands squeeze around the weird ginger concoction that Butt Buildr’s Gina Malone recommended for Willow. Despite my new attitude, I need to ready myself for theCillowinterview—a prospect that makes my skin crawl. Willow and Connor, same room, with me right smack in the middle.

While Willow’s been primping in the studio dressing room for what feels like an eternity, I’m relegated to drinks runner. Connor is late, per usual. Probably got waylaid hiding a dead hooker’s body or something.

I can’t help but feel a bit paranoid. I had sex with aclient.Not just any client—Connor Quinn. What if this gets out? If Willow gets even a whiff of suspicion, I can already picture her sweet, angelic demeanor doing a 180 into full-blown Godzilla mode. She’ll get me fired for sure.

But Connor, he wouldn’t go shooting his mouth off . . . right? And there’s no worry about me opening my lips.

TheHello, New Yorkstudio is like a beehive on a caffeine buzz. Everyone’s in a state of organized panic, shouting and darting around. I’ve been bombarded with at least ten questions about Connor’s ETA, each laced with more expletives than the last.

Sound checks, tweaking the lights, running camera drills—the pre-show chaos is a thrill to be part of. It’d be an even bigger rush if Connor had the decency to show up. If he bails, Vicky’s going to have my head on a platter, and I’ll be ready to serve Connor’s right next to it.

My phone goes off, nearly giving me a heart attack. I’m bracing for it to be Connor bailing out. Instead, it’s a text from Kayla.

I met her for a coffee and spilled everything about Connor. Had to vent to someone. Watching her face as I unloaded the story was priceless—her jaw hit the floor. It felt great to get it all off my chest and have someone to rant to.

Kayla:Double date tonight with Brad and Justin! They got exclusive tix to some hot show.