Page 17

The kitchen light shone yellow beneath the door to my room.

I heard the clicking of heels and soft laughter.

Gisèle, returned from her evening out, I figured.

Probably drunk and stumbling around the kitchen.

It was a good thing I hadn’t returned any later; we might have run into each other in the driveway.

After a moment, Samira’s voice broke the silence. “What are you doing?” she asked in French. “You could have woken Tyson.”

“Doesn’t he wear those stupid headphones?”

“Take your shoes off. You’re trashed. Noise cancellation doesn’t help if there’s an elephant in the house.”

I snickered quietly in the dark. Miss cool girl had some bite to her.

A giggle-hiccup from Gisèle. “Who are you calling an elephant?” The thunk of shoes hitting the floor. “Have a drink with me.”

“I’ve been asleep for hours.”

“You’re mad I went out without you,” Gisèle pouted.

“I’m not mad.” I could practically hear her eye roll.

“I saw Laurent. He was wearing a ridiculous cowboy costume.”

My pulse quickened. We’d thought we were being so careful.

“You went to Le Ti? I thought you were going into Gustavia.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Who was he with?”

Another hiccup. “Some girl I didn’t recognize.” I breathed a sigh of relief. My costume, at least, had been successful. “They looked like they might fuck right there in the club.”

My eyes went wide in the dark. I hadn’t even been totally sure what we were doing could be considered flirting, and yet it looked like we “might fuck right there in the club”? On the bright side, that meant the attraction definitely hadn’t been one-sided—but what the hell had I been thinking?

Thankfully we’d been wearing costumes, but I couldn’t be so careless again.

“Did you see Bryan?” Samira asked.

Gisèle must have nodded because Samira added, “And?”

“He’s doing a series of black-and-white nudes on the beaches around the island. It’s a sirens theme. He wants us for it.”

“Go for it.”

“I don’t want to do it without you.” Hiccup. “Michelle did that series with him last year and she’s the new Bond girl now.”

“I don’t think those two things are related.”

“But they’re not unrelated.”

A pause. The sound of liquid splashing into a glass. “You know he’s never gonna let me do that,” Samira said.

“What man wouldn’t want to be married to the next Bond girl?”

“Are you joking?”

“But when you married him, he said—”

“He said all kinds of things when I married him,” Samira hissed.

“But you’re such a talented actress—”

A chair scraped over the floor. “That part of my life is over!”

Earlier today I’d been intimidated by Samira’s burnished exterior, but hearing the pain in her voice now, I felt sympathy toward her.

She was only twenty-five, and she sounded so jaded.

I knew nothing about what she’d been through, but something had compelled her to fortify her walls at such a young age, and I did know what that was like.

“Do you know what a hundred million broken down over thirty-six months comes out to per month?” Samira demanded. “Two point eight million. That is far more, I guarantee, than a fucking Bond girl makes.”

So Tyson was right. Samira was with him for the money, though she’d clearly gotten more than she’d bargained for in marrying him.

“Twenty-two more months. You know the deal . I walk away now, I get nothing,” Samira concluded.

Another hiccup from Gisèle. “But you’re miserable.”

“I’d be more miserable if I were poor.” Samira’s tone was caustic.

“You’ll never be poor,” Gisèle protested, clearly too inebriated to know when to quit. “You were a successful model before all this—”

“Before William,” Samira stopped her, putting an emphasis on the name that told me he was important. “You think any brand wants to be associated with me now? I’m radioactive. It’s a miracle Tyson wanted any part of marrying me.”

I made a mental note to find out who this William was as Gisèle softened her voice. “I just want the best for you.”

“Then back off. You’re here because—”

Gisèle giggled. “He likes what I can do with my tongue.”

My jaw dropped. Had I heard that right? Gisèle’s voice was low enough, perhaps she’d said something else.

“Yes,” Samira answered, dispelling any doubts I’d had about what I heard. “And to keep me happy.”

“You also like what I can do with my tongue,” Gisèle purred.

Oh, I’d definitely heard correctly.

Silence for a moment, followed by a distinctively sexual sigh. “He doesn’t like it when we—”

“Shh…”

The sound of something sliding across the counter. A moan. “He has cameras.”

“He’s asleep.”

I pulled my pillow over my head. It was clear there was going to be no more conversation I needed to hear tonight.