Connor stood in front of the penthouse’s giant picture window, alone against the backdrop of daytime Las Vegas.Johnny and I stood at the edge of the main room, just inside the hallway to the kitchen and dining area.Connor’s parents, Augustus and Lenora Templeton, were catty-corner from me and Johnny, watching their son like ravenous animals about to devour their young. Their four Secret Service-looking bodyguards stood motionless at each corner of the room like silent, ominous statues.And Vincent and Miranda stood hand in hand by the front door.The room was deathly silent for about five seconds.Then Connor managed to regain control.I saw the poker player’s mask slip back into place. All the pain disappeared, leaving only cool, amused disdain.It might have been a better performance if we hadn’t just seen how deeply Miranda had wounded him.“The sycophant and the backstabbing gold digger. I hope you’ll both be very happy together,” Connor said with an ironic smile. “You sure as
It’s pretty much impossible to describe the flood of emotions that were coursing through me, but here’s the big ones:Terror.Rage.Shame.Hatred.Hurt.And nausea, which isn’t really an emotion, but tell that to somebody just before they puke on your shoes.I looked at Connor. He ignored me. He just went over to the couch, picked up the iPad, and stared down at the screen emotionlessly.I turned hesitantly towards Johnny. I had a hard time meeting his gaze, wondering if he’d seen the photos and what he thought about them – but when our eyes finally locked, I was glad to see I wasn’t the only one who was green around the gills.He was watching me, his expression full of sympathy and pain. Then his eyes trailed over to Connor, and the worry in Johnny’s face doubled.I looked back at Connor again.He was flipping through the pictures, a blank look on his face.“…Connor?” I whispered.He didn’t answer, just kept swiping his fingers across the screen.“Connor, talk to me,” I whispered.Su
Apparently the ‘Gulfstream’ was Connor’s private jet, which he had used Friday – the day I met him – to fly from New York to LA. By taking it instead of a commercial flight, Sebastian bumped up his departure by over an hour. The flight was typically forty minutes, though Sebastian said the pilot could push it to thirty. Before the plane had even taxied off the runway in LA, Johnny was walking out the door of the penthouse.“Do NOT leave this place,” he ordered Connor angrily. “Do NOT open the fucking door.”“Relax, they’ve already ruined me. There’s no need for them to shoot me now.”“Connor – ”“I promise. Jesus.”“If you’d just followed my instructions, none of this would be happening,” Johnny scowled, then looked at me like he’d just put his foot in his mouth. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.“What are you saying ‘sorry’ to her for? I’m the one who fucked everything up,” Connor snapped.“Well, don’t go fucking it up even more.”“Go get Sebastian,” Connor said as he pushed him out of t
It took about fifteen minutes, but Connor briefed Sebastian on the entire situation – land deal, solar company, politicians, blackmail, the works.Sebastian sat on a couch opposite us, scrolling through the pictures on the iPad’s cracked screen. “Wonderful impulse control, Connor.”“I was angry,” Connor retorted.“I meant the photos, not the iPad. But now that you mention it, remind me not to make you angry,” Sebastian said as he tossed the tablet to the side. “Well… what do you want to do?”“I want to hire a hitman to take out the lot of them,” Connor growled.Sebastian shrugged. “I can make a couple of calls.”“SEBASTIAN!” I cried out.Connor looked up into the air. “Um, NSA, CIA, FBI? That was a joke. No hitmen are going to be called.”“Well, I could,” Sebastian said, then sneered, “I hate that bitch.”“You keep saying ‘bitch,’ singular, like Miranda’s the only one behind it,” I pointed out.“While I’m sure the other bitch – excuse my language, Connor, I know how much you love and
We wound up in a suite that wasn’t nearly as palatial as the penthouse, but your ordinary millionaire high roller would have been thrilled to stay there. I suppose for Connor it was merely adequate.Johnny had checked out everything we owned, down to some embarrassing things in my overnight kit. Ever had a man search your emergency tampon stash? No? Not exactly fun.But he found nothing.We were safe to continue the discussion.“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me about your plans,” Sebastian sniffed.Connor was pacing back and forth in front of the suite’s picture window – which was considerably smaller than the penthouse’s. “You knew about the solar company. And you knew about the meetings with the politicians, too.”“I thought that was about opening a casino – you didn’t tell me how it all fit together.”“I wanted to play this one close to the vest.”“You told her,” Sebastian said, sounding miffed, like a little boy whose sister had gotten more ice cream than him.“Ye
“What did you talk about?” Connor asked suspiciously as soon as he was back in the room.“I wanted to find out why Lily’s going through with this,” Sebastian answered.“If we go through with it,” Connor said.Sebastian shrugged. “If we go through with it.”Connor swung his gaze over to me. “And what were your reasons?”“The right ones,” Sebastian interrupted. “Now, we have to talk about a plan of attack – ”“What were your reasons?” Connor repeated, looking at me intensely.“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I said. “Because there are too many people who can benefit from this, and I can’t stand in the way of that.”Connor shook his head. “That’s all very noble, but – ”I hate comparing myself in any way, shape, or form to Miranda, but I now understood why she said This bickering isn’t serving any purpose and then just gave her ultimatum and left.Going around in circles was exhausting. And pointless.“Sebastian asked me to sign an NDA,” I broke in.Connor stopped midsentence, his m
While Sebastian worked, we ate. Johnny demanded it – and I was actually starved. I hadn’t had anything since my lunch out, and the emotional toll of the day had drained me. I was looking for some comfort food. So we got room service to deliver steaks, amazing vegetables, and an assortment of desserts. Connor, Johnny, and I ate, while Sebastian picked off his plate as he paced and barked into his phones.After an exhausting hour – exhausting for us just to watch; Sebastian, however, looked flushed and energized – the Master of the Hard Sell put down his phones for a minute to brief Connor.“Alright, we’re screwed as far as New York goes. If we got on the Gulfstream in an hour, we’d still have a five-hour flight back home, plus we’d lose three hours due to time zones, so it’s going to have to be LA. I figure we head back to New York tomorrow night and do clean-up with Letterman and the View on Thursday. I have you on Good Morning America first thing – they’re going to patch you in by sa
Mr. Templeton demanded that everyone sit down and get it over with.“I have better things to do with my time than this,” he grumbled.“What, better than blackmail and destroying people’s lives? Come on, Dad, this is the perfect Tuesday night for you,” Connor joked as he pulled back my chair and pushed it in for me. Then he sat down beside me with Johnny on his left. Javier was on my right, his hands folded in his lap, looking suitably grim behind his sunglasses.Apparently it was working, because occasionally Vincent would give him a nervous glance.Vincent sat opposite Javier, Miranda sat across from me (Oh joy), Mr. Templeton was across from Connor, and Mrs. Templeton sat beside him, across from Johnny. The four bodyguards stood in the background, menacing shapes against the glass window and the Las Vegas skyline.“We wouldn’t have to resort to unpleasant measures if you weren’t such a beastly son,” Mrs. Templeton said haughtily.“I learned from the best, Mother.”“Enough,” Mr. Templ