The Favor

“You make it hard for me not to.” More like impossible, actually.

Her nostrils flaring, she tipped her chin at Dane and scoffed. “You think you’ll keep him? That he’ll seriously stay with you when he has actresses and models and heiresses throwing themselves at him all the time? He’ll drop you like a bad habit when he’s done with you, just like Owen did.”

“No, I won’t,” clipped Dane, his voice cold and sharp as a scalpel. “And if you thought your behavior here today was going to achieve anything other than make you look immature and pathetic, you were wrong.”

“Heather, take Jana home,” Wyatt ordered. “Now.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll be back in ten minutes for Junior.” She shot me one last glower and then stormed out.

Dane squeezed one of my shoulders. “Wyatt, Melinda—thank you both for having me. I hope to see you again soon. Right now, Vienna and I need to leave.”

Yes, we really did.

Distraught, Melinda gave me one of her tees to change into and insisted on keeping hold of my blouse so she could wash out the stains. Wyatt apologized to both me and Dane on behalf of Heather. I assured him, just like I had a gazillion times before, that he didn’t need to apologize for her. He’d no doubt always do it, though.

Stepping out of the house, I wasn’t surprised to see Sam waiting. Dane had probably summoned him by text or something.

When we were finally in the car heading to my complex, I closed my eyes and let my head tip back. I really needed a hot, relaxing bath.

“Does Heather do that often?” asked Dane.

I didn’t open my eyes. “Cause scenes? Yep. She’s fun, right?”

“She’s jealous of you. She resents that Melinda and Wyatt are proud of you. Did you two ever get along?”

It took an effort not to snort. “No.”

“Not even when you two were kids?”

Especially not when we were kids, but I didn’t want to get into all that. The memories weren’t worth revisiting, so I only said, “Not even then.”

Silence fell between us, which suited me fine. I was too exhausted to hold a conversation. I let myself drift, listening to the sounds of the car engine purring and the tapping of Dane’s thumbs on what was no doubt the screen of his cell phone.

A gentle touch to my arm woke me a short time later.

“You’re home,” said Dane.

Lifting my head, I sighed. “Well, I’d say we accomplished what we needed to. My father, foster parents, and friends all think you’re serious about me.” It was a shame that Heather had felt the need to spoil what had otherwise been a perfectly good day. “They also like you.”

“Good. I like them. But I don’t like that your foster parents don’t have a better handle on their daughter. She has the emotional maturity of a fourteen-year-old.”

Her pettiness was going to get her into serious trouble one day—especially if she continued pursuing married men. I reached for the door handle, thinking that she’d sooner or later target a man who, like Dane, dealt with his enemies fast and effectively. Someone who wouldn’t let her bullshit go unpunished. Someone who …

My thoughts trailed off as something occurred to me. I released the door handle and looked at him. “Dane, you’re not going to do anything to Heather, are you?”

He just stared at me, unblinking.

“Tell me you’ll let it go.”

His brow creased. “I’ve told you before, I’d never tolerate a verbal attack on someone who belonged to me. It would be seen as out of character for me to let it go, as you put it.”

My stomach sank. “She’s Melinda and Wyatt’s daughter.”

“I’m aware of that.” And he clearly didn’t give a hot shit.

“Anything that hurt her would hurt them. What she did today … it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

His dark eyes flared. “She insulted you. She provoked you. She tried to humiliate you.”

She’d done worse in the past. “And all she did was humiliate herself. Dane, you have to let it go. If you do something to punish her in some way, she won’t be upset, she’ll be thrilled. Because it means she can run straight to her parents with news that will turn them against you, hoping it will also turn them against me.”

“They’d never turn on you.”

“Probably not. But they’d be pissed if I didn’t care that my boyfriend had retaliated against their daughter, and she’d love that they were pissed at me. All she’s ever wanted is to get me out of the picture. Please don’t give her the ammunition to do it.”

I held my breath as he stared at me, his gaze inscrutable.

Long moments later, he said, “I’ll let it go. This one time. If she does anything else, I will deal with it. Nothing you say will sway me from that.”