Page 3 of The Good Girl Effect

“One year,” I say, and everyone freezes with their eyes on me. “One year,” I repeat, standing from my seat. “I mean…what do we have to lose, right?”

“What’s the point?” Phoenix asks with a tilt of her head.

“The point is…Ronan is right. We could make something great. We all bring something different to the table. Amelia has the design and marketing skills, and West can run the bar. Nix has the business brains. Elizabeth…”

My sister doesn’t turn my way, even after I utter her name. Swallowing my grief, I continue.

“Elizabeth has danced in shows all over Paris. She can head the entertainment.”

“And what about me?” Julian asks from behind me.

Turning away from the table, I stare at him. Standing at my height, I am toe-to-toe with the one guy I can’t stand. The idea of working with him repulses me, but this isn’t about me. It’s about making this harebrained scheme work in hopes of getting my sister back.

For her, I can endure a year with the most pretentious, arrogant, self-absorbed asshole in Paris.

“You, Julian,” I say, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be my partner.”

“Your partner?” he asks with a scoff.

“Yeah. You and I will manage it together. And after the year’s up, those of us who want to leave can leave. Then you’ll have it to yourself.”

He scrutinizes me. The room is bathed in awkward tension as we wait for his response. It’s all up to Julian now. The one person who needs this the least. He lives a comfortable existence thanks to his rich inheritance.

We’re at Julian’s mercy now.

His brow furrows as he considers it with a scheming expression.

“Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll do it.” Quickly, he averts his attention from my face, and I know I should react, but I’m too confounded. I never expected him to actually agree to this.

“Wait, so we’re really doing this?” Phoenix asks.

“I guess we’re really doing this,” I respond.

I look over to my sister, who still won’t look at me. Instead, she smiles softly at Amelia, who is trying to stifle her excitement.

“I’ll get us a round of shots,” Weston announces as he goes to the bar, slipping behind it like he owns the place. And considering most of us grew up here and have known the owner since we were kids, he sort of does.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are still standing around the table. Low chatter and nervous mumbles fill the space while I let this all sink in. There’s a twinge of guilt in my gut because I didn’t do this for the club or the others. I don’t care whether the club thrives or fails, and I don’t genuinely believe Ronan’s message about finding some deeply hidden worth in working together. These people aren’t my family. My family fell apart the day my wife died.

Now, there’s only one family member I’m concerned about in this room, and I’m doing it for her. Running this club with Elizabeth means getting to see her and talk to her and hopefully repairing our broken relationship. Once I do that, I’m taking my daughter back home to California where we belong. The rest of them can do what they want with the place.

One year. I can get through one year.

Weston returns a moment later with a tray full of shots. Knowing Weston, they’re cheap crowd-pleasers, as if we’re a gang of kids fresh out of college and not a meeting of mature business owners. Judging by the white appearance and sugar-coated rims, I assume they’re Lemon Drops, and I was right.

“To the new club,” Phoenix cheers as she holds one up.

“Wait,” Amelia cries, and we all lower our shot glasses. “Dad said we could rename it. So what should it be?”

The answer comes to me immediately.

“Well, he said our parents created a legacy. So I say we do the same.”

“Legacy,” Phoenix replies with a proud smirk.

“I like it,” Amelia chirps.

“To Legacy,” Weston cheers.