Daniel looks intrigued.

“So let’s stop pretending. Whatever you want, I’m down for and not just me.” I point to some vague area behind me. “You know Valerie, right?” He nods, his gaze dropping back to my chest. “I told her about your friends, Zoe and Nadine. And she’s interested. We thought…” I trail off and brace my hand next to Daniel’s knee. I bring my lips close to his ear. “We thought we could show you what Astor Park girls can do. We’re both dancers, you know.”

“Yeah?” His eyes light up.

“And you can do whatever you want with us,” I tease.

He seems more than interested now. “Anything?”

“Anything…and everything. Feel free to bring your camera. You might want to keep mementos.”

“Where?” His hand slips between his legs. Ugh, is he feeling himself up right in front of me? I clamp my lips together so I don’t ralph all over his lap.

“The pool house. I picked the lock. Meet us there in five minutes.”

I waltz away without looking back. If I’ve misjudged Daniel, this isn’t going to work and I’ll have to eat crow to the Royal brothers. But I don’t think I’m wrong. Daniel Delacorte has an opportunity to degrade two “trumped-up nobodies” and take pictures of them that he can show to all his pervy buddies. No way is he passing up that golden opportunity.

As I let myself into the small structure, Valerie pops up from one of the two chairs that she and Savannah dragged away from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Like the Royals’ pool house, this one is nearly all glass so that the view from the house to the ocean is unobstructed, but there are shades and the two girls have drawn them all.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I joke.

Valerie tosses me something, which I catch reflexively. A robe tie. “Thanks, we were going for minimalist. Savannah and I thought that it would display our artwork better if there weren’t any distractions. You okay with the sash?”

Thinking back to the yacht and Reed, I tell her, “That’ll work.” I wrap the length around my waist. “Where’s Savannah?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” she hisses out.

A sharp knock on the door signals Daniel’s arrival.

“Showtime,” I whisper and then open the door.

28

“I half thought you might be setting me up, but I just saw the Royals drinking. Reed looks ready to go balls deep into Abby tonight.” Daniel runs his eyes insolently over me and then shifts to Valerie. “And you, Val. I never suspected you were such a dirty girl. But maybe I should’ve guessed.”

Because you’re both low class and trashy, I finish for him silently.

Valerie’s mouth twists in a noticeable sneer. Since she isn’t doing a good job of pretending to be hot for Daniel, I hurry over to distract him.

“What do you want to do first?” I stroke a hand over his shoulders and steer him toward the table in the middle of the room. It must have been too heavy for Valerie and Savannah to move.

“How about the two of you go down on each other?” he suggests.

“No lead up? Just straight to the action?” With a harder hand than necessary, I push him down onto the table. “I think you need a lesson in anticipation. Let us dance for you a little.”

Leaning back against his arms, he gives us a superior nod of his chin. “Fine. But I want to see your hands on each other and lots of skin.”

Valerie gathers herself and steps forward. “How about we give you a massage? You ever have one of those?”

“A massage? Sure, I get them at my dad’s club all the time.”

“But from two girls with a happy ending?” She wiggles her fingers. “Like Ella said, let’s not rush things. We can give you a massage and then you can watch us do our thing. After all, you should get off first.”

Daniel ponders this offer for a moment and then agrees. “Yeah, that sounds right. You bitches can wait your turn.” He winks at the end to signal we’re supposed to take his bitches comment as a joke. Neither of us laugh and it takes superhuman effort not to punch his smug face.

“Let’s help you out of your clothes,” I say sweetly.

Fortunately, Daniel doesn’t suspect a thing. He’d be mistrustful of Reed or Gideon, but not two trashy girls who, if not for their rich relatives, would probably be selling their bodies on the streets anyway. That’s how his mind operates, which is why our little charade is possible. Because he’s Daniel Delacorte, son of a judge, lacrosse player, a guy with a sterling reputation who nobody would ever suspect of being such a douche. I don’t doubt for a second that Savannah’s cousin is probably from a less successful branch of the family.

Valerie and I steel ourselves to put our hands on his body, but to our relief he doesn’t need help. He drops his shorts, pulls down his boxers and has his T-shirt over his head before we can take our next breath.

“Someone’s eager,” Valerie mutters under her breath.

Daniel licks his lips. “Where do you want me?”

She places her hands on her hips and pretends to consider the question. “How about there?” She points to a nest of pillows situated right in front of the windows.

Daniel strides over and kneels down on the soft cushions. “Don’t forget to keep your teeth to yourself. Maybe cover them with your lips.”

That’s the last instruction he’s ever going to give me, I think, and then I nonchalantly swipe a fruit bowl off the table and hit him over the head with it.

He rears up with a shout. “What the hell!” Stunned, he clamps one hand to the back of his head.

“I told you the bowl was too weak,” Savannah says, bursting out of the bathroom. Before Daniel can leap away, she whips up a bottle of hairspray and sends a stream of stinging solvents straight into his face.

“Motherfucker! You three are dead meat!” Daniel roars. He stumbles to his left and bangs into the windows.

The three of us laugh.

“I don’t want to kill him, just maim him,” I remind Savannah. “How about the candlestick?” I swing the heavy silver weapon and strike Daniel in the shoulder. Savannah brings the matching one down on the top of his head, and Daniel slumps over.