She shrugged. “It’s what we do.” Payton leaned back in the seat and crossed her legs, taking a more relaxed posture. “You have to tell her.”

“Which part?” I snapped. “That I sell pussy, or that her father’s my best customer?”

“Yes.” She said it like it was that fucking simple.

“No.”

Payton rose to her feet, and it was shocking how hard her expression was. “If you have feelings for her, or see even the tiniest fucking chance of it going somewhere, believe me when I tell you that lying is a really bad idea.” She marched to the door, yanked it open, and turned over her shoulder to glance back at me. “It’ll break her heart, and I know you’re into a lot of shit, but I didn’t think breaking was one of them.”

The door slammed shut.

chapter

TWENTY-FIVE

NOEMI

Sunlight glared off of the white floor at the ticketing counter of O’Hare’s Terminal One. I glanced at the ticket in my hand and wondered if Joseph was either proving a point, or thought I would balk at flying any other way. “First class?”

His expression was casual. “It’s a nine hour flight.”

I followed him toward the security line, when a man stepped in front of me and made me halt. He wore jeans and a faded sweatshirt that was stretched out, and heat rose in my throat at his sleazy grin. I knew what he was instantly.

“Hey,” he said, “aren’t you one of Anthony Rosso’s daughters?”

“No.” I tried to move passed him, but he moved as well, keeping himself between Joseph and me.

“Sure you are. Where you going?”

Joseph realized I wasn’t with him then. When he turned and spotted my situation, his face turned dark.

“Nowhere

,” I said. My annoyance at the stranger only made Joseph’s expression scarier. “Excuse me.” I bypassed him.

“Who’s the guy, Ms. Rosso?”

“Her boyfriend,” Joseph snapped. “Who the fuck are you?”

Crap, no, Joseph. “He’s no one. Let’s go.”

I wrapped a hand on his arm, urging him toward the first class security check line. Now I was grateful Joseph had gotten those tickets since the line was empty, and the general one weaved, seemingly endless.

“Oh, really?” The guy’s voice rang out behind us. “You’ve gotta be, what? Twenty years older than her?”

Joseph whirled around, and I put my hands on his shoulders to stop him. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “Go.” Giving him an order wasn’t the best idea, but we had to keep moving, before—

Joseph’s hand latched on my wrist and he tugged me through the corded section toward the first checkpoint until we were safely out of the man’s view. Hands gripped my waist, steadying me when we abruptly stopped.

“He had a fucking camera.” Joseph’s eyes were concerned.

“It happens sometimes.” I didn’t love being startled by paparazzi, but Joseph’s hands on me now made it not so bad. “The night we met, there was one waiting for me outside your club. That was right after Becca’s meltdown, so it was worse then.”

The dark eyes blinked. “That’s why you wanted to slip out the back.”

I couldn’t walk out of his club and be photographed after the fistfight had given me an enormous facial bruise, and it was also why I didn’t want to press charges. Think about the brand, Noemi.

“If you ignore them,” I repeated the words I’d learned long ago, “they don’t have anything to photograph. I’m not famous. No one’s interested in Noemi Rosso, only what scandal I could bring to my dad’s company.”

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