Pink and Black. It was the first time in years he’d acknowledged them, us, and bitterness hit the back of my throat. I’d always imagined that if we came clean to each other, it wouldn’t be like that. Wouldn’t be…so dirty.

“You said this wasn’t going to be illegal. Perjury is illegal, Vicious. Very much so.”

“What do you know about perjury?”

“Rosie and I are addicted to Law and Order. I know enough,” I said under my breath.

That made him heave a sigh. “Well, for the money you’re being paid, you can take a bullet or two,” he muttered.

But for the first time since we’d bumped into each other at McCoy’s, I didn’t like his eyes on me anymore. Not because he scared me, but because he looked sad. I couldn’t bear it. It was physically painful to see those dark-blue marbles shining with something that looked like pain.

“Besides,” he continued, “I don’t plan to let things ever advance to court. You wouldn’t be under oath unless you have to testify. You just need to convince Jo that you’re willing to testify. She’ll never contest the will after you tell her what you know. Trust me.”

So this was why he’d hired me as a PA and not anyone else. He needed someone who Josephine would believe had the opportunity to know him well enough that the story would be convincing.

But I didn’t actually know anything. He’d asked me to lie.

I shook my head and grabbed the door handle on my side of the car. “Why do you think that I’d lie for you? That I’d do that even if it were true?”

He blinked once and smiled before opening his side door and stepping out. His eyes weren’t sad anymore. Just an empty pretty shell, like the rest of him.

“Because I said so, Help.”

DEAN’S HOUSE HADN’T CHANGED ONE bit. Still big and warm and welcoming, painting a perfect picture of the privileged guy who had once lived there. After passing by a Christmas tree the size of my New York apartment and a garland in the foyer, we stopped by a large oak door at the end of the hallway. It was the first time I’d been in Eli Cole’s office. I didn’t know how much he knew about how his son and I broke up, but if he did know the full story, he didn’t make it uncomfortable for me. Eli was older, with suspenders and a bowtie, an old-schooler who looked a lot like a professor or a teacher in a Harry Potter movie. He was nice to everyone, always, never rude or patronizing like the rest of this town.

They were qualities that had instantly endeared me to him.

Vicious and I were sitting in plush leather chairs—antique looking and newly padded—in front of his rich, dark wooden desk. Eli didn’t have a computer or a laptop on his desktop. Just a stack of papers arranged neatly on one side and a huge library of family law books behind him.

My hands were sweating, and I tangled my fingers together as I mulled over the last words Vicious had said to me before we stepped out of the limo.

Because I said so, Help.

He knew I was weak when it came to him. Knew every time he was around I was in a constant battle with my morals.

Because I’d wanted to kiss him that day despite being Dean’s girlfriend.

Because I wanted to lie for him today, just to put a smile on his cruel, beautiful face.

I barely listened as Vicious and Eli discussed prenups and undue influence, wills and precedents for contesting them. Eli retrieved a thick law book from the shelves, and they talked about Jo and Baron Senior, both men hunched over the desk, reading through a decision together. Vicious looked too engrossed in what he was doing to care that I was having a meltdown next to him. So many things swirled in my head, tangling into a headache.

I was torn between Vicious’s truths. The one he gave me and the one he gave the rest of the world. And my truth? It was very simple. I didn’t know what was right and what was wrong. I just knew the lines between the two blurred when it came to him.

“Millie?” Eli’s voice pierced through my thoughts.

I blinked and straightened my spine, smiling politely in his direction. “Yes, Mr. Cole?”

“Do you have any questions about everything we’ve discussed so far?” Eli knitted his fingers together and offered me an encouraging smile.

I shook my head no. No one had asked me to do anything yet, which was good, because my morals were going to win. Again.

“Everything’s clear?”

I licked my lips. “Yeah,” I said.

“Good. If not, you’re sitting next to one of the finest attorneys I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m sure he can brief you more about what to expect if this goes to court,” Eli said. “Your testimony is Baron’s best chance. The statute of limitations for criminal charges has long since expired, but he can still punish that woman. For Josephine, I suspect having no money will seem as bad as jail. It’s imperfect justice, but that you can corroborate what he told you is very important. I’m so glad you’ve offered to testify, Millie.”

Offered? Vicious had told him that I was going to help them out without even asking my permission. Oh, heck no.

I tried to soothe my nerves by telling myself that if Eli was so sure and positive about what happened, then maybe lying wasn’t so bad. Maybe Jo deserved all of this for abusing her stepson. But then I remembered that before Eli was a nice man, he was a lawyer.

A lawyer who was responsible for a lot of nasty divorce settlements in Hollywood. Cases that were all about money.

He was not to be trusted, just like Vicious.

Eli escorted us back to the front door, and Dean’s mom, Helen, kissed his cheek while ignoring me. Maybe she knew more than Eli did about my breakup with her son. Or maybe she simply wasn’t as gracious as her husband about forgiving me for what I’d allegedly done.

When we walked to the car, keeping our distance from one another, Vicious said, “And to think that she thought you might someday be her daughter-in-law.”

Again, his voice was smooth and casual but his words venomous.

“Aren’t you proud of yourself for breaking us up?” I bit out, hoping I sounded just as calm as he was.

He stopped next to the car, ignoring the SoCal drizzle, and opened the door for me. I climbed into the back, scooting to the far corner to put as much space as possible between us. He joined me, but this time scooted closer than he had been earlier. Our thighs were pressed against one another.

I was just getting used to his physical proximity again when he twisted his body toward me and captured my wrist. He guided my hand to his mouth, the hot air of his breath hitting the sensitive flesh of my wrist.

“Dean ever made you feel the way you do right now?”

He stared into my eyes, searching for something. I didn’t know what it was, but I wanted him to find it in them. My stare dropped to his lips and I gulped. I could almost taste them, like that night all those years ago. Soft and warm, against all odds. And right. So right.

“Dean ever made you shake the way you are right now, even when he fucked you? Dean ever get you that far out of your comfort zone? Your home? Your precious morals?” He smiled at me, his lips a whisper from my wrist, from the heavy pulse throbbing there.

A shiver rolled down my spine, sending electricity to the rest of my body and exploding in my lower stomach.

Suddenly, it felt too hot to breathe in the car.

“Don’t lie to me, Help. I can smell your bullshit a mile away. Kind of like your normal scent, because you always lie to yourself when it comes to this. To us. I did you a huge fucking favor, breaking you up, and you’ll thank me later. Naked. For now…” He pressed the button on the intercom, and his voice turned from a hot whisper to a clipped order, breaking the spell. “Cliff, take us back home.”

It was the end of the conversation but by no means the end of the discussion.

Ten Years Ago

HELP BROKE UP WITH DEAN, and for the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe again. My reaction to their relationship was irrational, immature, and completely out of line, but still…if I couldn’t have her, no one else could. Especially not one of my friends.

Dean seemed a little bummed, but not crushed, and every time he glanced her way at school, Trent or Jaime were fast to slap his back and remind him that this was for the best. And it was. If Help were in love with him, she wouldn’t have broken up with him. But she wasn’t. She said she didn’t want to lead him on and that he was a good guy. Said that the situation was too complicated and that the last thing she wanted to do was tear the HotHoles apart.

Too. Fucking. Late. Sweetheart.

For the most part, though, it was a good month. Trent’s cast was off, so he was working on rehabbing his leg. A new Gears of War game came out. My dad and Jo were abroad—Austria? Australia?—I didn’t give a shit as long as they were gone. Emilia was lonely and solemn again. And Dean was back to acting like the funny stoner everyone learned to love because they had no fucking choice. I thought it meant that he had gotten over her ass and moved on to someone else.

I was wrong.

I found out just how wrong I was at a football training session at four o’clock on a Tuesday after school. At All Saints, the team trained year-round. We were seniors, graduating in a few months, but somebody had to whip next year’s squad into shape. I was doing static stretches on a foam roller with a dozen groaning, bulked-up freshman as I silently watched him approach.