Under My Skin (Stark International Trilogy 3)

“You don’t have to be Mommy, or Aunt Sylvia, or whatever it is that she might call you. Just be Sylvia. Just be yourself. You’ll be fine.”

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe. I don’t know. It scares the crap out of me.”

“I know it does.” She puts an arm around me and squeezes. “But it’s going to be fine. Is he bringing her out here now?”

I shake my head. “He’s thinking about it. He told me last night that he considered bringing her out this weekend, figuring that way he could spend time with her in case—well, in case he’s arrested and there’s no more time to spend. But then this thing with the movie ramping up happened and he’s worried about dumping her into the spotlight.”

“Makes sense. Poor Jackson, though.”

I nod, because I agree. But my horrible, guilty secret is that I’m relieved. And I hate myself for it, because I don’t want to deprive Jackson of his daughter. But I’m so damn nervous about playing a role in raising her, this fragile little life that I may end up being responsible for.

And while I’m almost convinced that I can do it, I’m still selfishly happy for the reprieve.

Beside me, Cass’s phone beeps, and she glances at the screen. “Siobhan’s almost done. Wanna walk with me to the museum?”

I’m tempted, but I shake my head. “I should get back to it.” As we start to rise, I remember what I keep forgetting. “Ollie told me on Monday to tell you hello. And no rush, but he’s wondering what you’re thinking about the franchise.”

“Oh.” She’s already on her feet, but now she sits back down.

My eyes widen. “Trouble?”

“No. I don’t think so. But I’ve been talking with Siobhan and I’m going to put it on hold.”

“Really?” I’m both surprised and concerned. This is her passion project, and one of the huge problems with her previous girlfriend, Zee, was that she wasn’t supportive at all. I hadn’t expected the same from Siobhan.

“Not permanently,” Cass says, apparently reading my mind. “But Siobhan pointed out that right now, I’m the face of the company. But nobody outside the walls of my studio knows me. So I’m going to hire a publicist and start advertising. Really get my name out there. Create a logo. Brand myself. That kind of thing. Because I need that to lure franchisees, but also just to make my brand stronger, you know?”

“I think that’s brilliant.”

“It was Siobhan’s idea,” she says, and I’m certain she can see my relief on my face. “I know, right? Zee was such a slug. But Siobhan and I click.” Her grin is wicked. “In more ways than one.”

She stands again, then reaches down to give me a hand up before pulling me into a hug. “You and Jackson click, too,” she says. “And that’s important. It’ll get you through a lot of shit.”

“Maybe,” I say, hugging her back.

“Trust me,” she says. “It’s all going to be fine.”

I don’t answer. I hope she’s right, of course, but I can’t quite bring myself to believe her.

Two hours later, I’m wishing I had taken that walk to the museum because my head is about to explode from juggling eight million projects at once. “I’ll find room in the budget,” I say to the recalcitrant supervisor on the other end of the phone line. “Work twenty-four hours if you have to, but the helipad and the entire area need to be cleared and repaired by Monday.”

I hang up the phone and close my eyes, then press my fingertips to the bridge of my nose. Despite working nonstop since my coffee break, I’ve still only made a dent in the cleanup. Or in my to-do list, for that matter.

I’m about to dive into the next task when Ethan calls. At least, I think it’s Ethan. Since I’m assuming my dad won’t pull that horrible stunt again, I take the risk and answer it.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I just found out. I can’t believe he used my phone. I’m so, so, sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say. “He’s the asshole.” I take a breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back right away. Everything’s been crazy at work.”

“It’s okay. I figured you were pissed about Dad telling me and needed to cool off.”

“I wasn’t,” I say, even though I was. Hell, even though I am.

There is a long, uncomfortable silence, and then he says, “I shouldn’t have told you.”

Shit. I don’t know what to say to that. Because part of me agrees. And yet another part of me hates the idea of more secrets between me and my brother.