The Favor

Fighting a yawn, I gave him a brief wave. “Well, goodnight.”

I walked up the staircase, conscious of Dane’s eyes on me the entire time. Or maybe I was just imagining it. Maybe I was just being dumb.

Reaching the landing, I glanced down at him. No, I hadn’t been imagining it. He was staring at me hard, his body still, his free hand a tight fist at his side. Like he was internally wrestling with something. And suddenly, I felt far too hot.

He took another swig from his glass and then turned away. “Night, Vienna.”

I headed to my room and puffed out a breath. I’d just reached my door when the buzzer rang once, twice, three times. I turned and headed to the hallway window. No cars were yet driving up the path, and I couldn’t see whoever was behind the gates. Again, the buzzer went off several times, like someone was jabbing it with their finger.

I went back down the stairs just as Dane re-entered the foyer. “Who is it?” I asked.

“Heather, demanding to see us,” he replied. “And I’ve just opened the gates for her.” He drank another gulp of the amber liquid. “My guess is she believes that we’re behind the recent photos Thad’s wife received of him and Heather together.”

“You had that done this quickly?”

“I’m not one to procrastinate. Especially when I need to make a point.”

We stepped outside just as Heather hopped out of her Mercedes in the courtyard. Her mouth tight, she slammed the car door closed and marched toward us. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I felt my brows rise. “Excuse me?”

She curled her upper lip. “Don’t pretend you don’t know why I’m here. Thad called me. His damn wife knows about us, because someone sent her photos of me and him together. Someone who wrote on the back of one of the pictures, ‘My conscience just wouldn’t let me keep quiet.’”

“Ah, your own words coming right back at you,” I said.

“So, what, you got a kick out of coming between me and my man?”

“Isn’t that kind of what you tried to do to me?”

“You should have known there’d be consequences to that shit you pulled.” Dane sipped more of his drink. “You could have stopped at just flirting with me, but you didn’t. You could have stopped at sending just one email, but you didn’t. You were determined to have my attention. Well, you got it.”

“This is the thanks I get for warning you that the woman you married is still hung up on her ex?” She leaned toward him. “I did you a solid.”

“You did what you seem to do best: you fucked up.” Dane swirled his glass. “If you’d stayed out of our business, we’d have stayed out of yours. You didn’t. If you have any sense, you won’t repeat that mistake.”

Heather curled her fingers like they were claws. “You’re telling me I lost my boyfriend because you didn’t like an email I sent you?”

“If you lost him, it’s because he chose his wife over you,” said Dane. “And that’s just eating at you, isn’t it? Breaking up relationships isn’t simply a power trip for you. No, you need—maybe even crave—that feeling you get when someone chooses you over a person they love. Why is that? Because you needed your parents to choose you over Vienna? You needed them to throw her away, like those men threw their wives away?”

Her eyes flickering, she took two unsteady steps backward. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she said to him, a tremor in her voice. “Not one thing.”

I stared at her, my mouth agape. He called it. He totally called it. I hadn’t seen it before, but he was right—she needed to feel that she’d been chosen over someone else. As if it was the only time that she felt she meant anything. But the feeling obviously faded all too quickly, because she’d gotten caught up in a cycle where she kept doing it again and again.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. Hell, it seemed as if she hadn’t realized it until now. Her face had gone white, and she looked like she’d had the breath punched right out of her lungs.

“You’ll pay for this,” Heather hissed at him.

Dane took a step closer to her. “You think this is bad? There are so many ways I could fuck with your life. You think I don’t know the truth about the child support payments you receive from Junior’s father? You think I don’t know it’s actually hush money? Rowan doesn’t want his wife to know the boy exists, and you’ve capitalized on that. You’re blackmailing the man, pure and simple.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Imagine if his wife discovered Junior’s existence. There’d be no need for secrecy anymore, would there? You’d continue to get money from Rowan, yes, but true child support payments wouldn’t amount to anything close to the hush money you’re used to. That’s assuming Rowan and his wife wouldn’t file for custody of Junior—even if only to spite you. In their situation, I’d resent giving you my well-earned money.”