I huffed. Like she needed to live vicariously through me when she had Lawson jumping her bones every five seconds. “He was fine.”
“Liar,” Dahlia teased.
“Fine, he was good.”
Jess shared a look with Dahlia. “Liar, liar.”
“Alright, fine, sex with Vaughn was goddamn mind-blowing. Hate sex: who knew?”
Jess opened her mouth but I cut her off. “But it is not to be repeated. And no one outside of this room is ever going to find out. Jessica, that means no telling Coop.”
She pouted but gave me a reluctant nod.
“Now . . . can we go eat dessert and embarrass Cat about her Sporty Spice phase?” I held up the photo albums.
Jessica stepped out of my way to let me open the office door.
“How many times did you uh . . . screw?” Emery asked as we trailed out.
I shot Emery a shocked look, ignoring Jess’s and Dahlia’s stifled snorts. “I am a bad influence on you.”
Em’s face lit up in a pretty smile. “Yeah.”
I let go a bark of laughter, the sound mingling with my friends’ amusement, and I threw an arm around Em’s waist. “I knew I liked you.”
“Yeah. But seriously . . . how many times?”
Meeting my expectant friends’ curious gazes I sighed. “Twice. Alright? Hate sex. Twice. And before you ask both times were fantastic,” I grumbled, ignoring the looks that they exchanged as we walked back to the dining room.
I felt like I might be in trouble because the look in Jessica’s eyes in particular was that of a matchmaker. I knew that look. I’d worn that look the moment I met Jess and thought, She’d be perfect for Cooper.
Oh, holy hell.
THIRTEEN
Vaughn
The problem with The Montgomery was Grant Foster after all. As soon as he arrived at his hotel in New York Vaughn knew something was off. The atmosphere wasn’t right. The staff was nervous and cagey, and not just because they were aware the boss was pissed off with the latest reviews.
There was something else going on. Vaughn could feel it.
His manager was acting strangely. Jittery. Jumpy.
Vaughn had his suspicions, and it took him a few days, but he managed to charm one of the waiters from the restaurant into telling him what was going on.
“Drugs,” Paul said in a hushed voice, his eyes wide at the scandal of it all. “He’s on coke, Mr. Tremaine.”
Suspicions confirmed, Vaughn sighed. “Any idea when and why this started?”
“His wife left him. He started to see a girl who’s into coke. That’s when he started slacking off here.”
“And why didn’t anyone tell me this?”
“Because Foster has been threatening jobs left, right, and center. Total blackmail, too. Anything he thinks he has on us . . . well he’s been using it to keep us quiet.”
That son of a bitch.
Vaughn headed straight to Grant’s office, stormed past his PA, and threw the door open without a warning.