She made for the kitchen, where she unearthed a bottle of Unrivaled tequila from one of the cupboards and carried it into the den with two shot glasses in tow. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she retrieved the bottle of pain pills she’d taken from the safe at Paul’s hideaway and placed two tabs in the bottom of Tommy’s glass.
With more regret than he’d ever likely believe, she poured the tequila and watched as the pills began to dissolve and bleed seamlessly into the liquid.
Satisfied, she arranged herself among the couch cushions. Tommy would be back soon, and she wanted him to catch her looking beautiful, alluring, and inviting in a way he’d be unable to resist.
She’d just reached for the cashmere throw to prop under her ankle, when the doorbell rang and Madison cast a worried look toward the entry.
Had Tommy misplaced his key?
A series of quick, insistent taps was followed by a voice softly calling, “Hey, open up—it’s Aster.”
Annoyed, Madison dutifully pushed away from the couch and peered through the peephole. Sure enough, Aster waited in the hall, wearing a pair of faded old jeans, a gray V-neck tee, a baseball cap, and oversize sunnies. She hugged a large canvas bag to her chest.
Madison swung the door open and ushered her inside.
“Ryan’s waiting downstairs,” Aster said in response to the way Madison peered past her shoulder before closing the door.
Madison nodded, secretly relieved by the words. She had no idea what Aster wanted, but if Ryan was waiting, then she wouldn’t stay long.
Aster moved into the den and surveyed the scene. Her gaze lighting on the bottle of tequila and the two full shot glasses placed right beside it, she swung toward Madison with a knowing look. “Drinking alone is a really bad sign. You know that, right?”
“What do you want?” Madison made no attempt to play nice.
“I could ask you the same,” Aster fired back.
Madison lifted her chin and kept her manner firm. “Me? I’m just hiding out, lying low, and playing by the rules you all set.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call Detective Larsen right now.”
“Same list of reasons we already discussed.”
Aster steeled her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re up to with”—she gestured toward the shot glasses—“whatever that’s supposed to be. But don’t drag Tommy into your schemes. He’s gone out of his way to help you. The least you can do is respect the risk he’s taking and not use him to relieve your boredom or loneliness or whatever story you’ve told yourself that makes it okay for you to seduce someone you don’t actually give a shit about.”
Madison’s anger flared, but it would do no good to show it. “Well, look at you with the moral outrage.” She laughed. “Wasn’t so long ago you had no guilt about stealing my boyfriend.”
“You can’t steal a person who isn’t open to leaving.”
Madison smirked. “And to think you were once my biggest fan. According to your former friend Safi, you kept an entire file filled with pictures of me.”
“And then I met you and realized everything about you is a lie.” Aster’s eyes blazed, and her tone was defiant. “The only one you’ve ever cared about is you. I can shut you down with a single phone call. So you better tread carefully where Tommy’s concerned.”
Aster was looking for a fight, but Madison refused to indulge her. Tommy would be home soon, and she couldn’t afford another hitch in her plan. “Is there another reason you’re here?” She gestured toward the canvas bag Aster clutched in her arms.
“Layla thought you might need some clothes.” Aster sneered at Madison’s getup and dumped the sack on a nearby chair. “Clearly she was right.”
Madison plucked the first item from the top. It was a pale pink T-shirt featuring a fading photo of a kitten. “Wow, thanks,” she said. “Did you pick this out yourself?”
“That’s from Layla’s ironic T-shirt phase. But not to worry, I managed to dig up an ugly sundress or two. Turns out your usual stylist is busy dressing Heather Rollins. Besides, you’re in disguise, remember?”
Madison returned the T-shirt to the pile. On the one hand, it was a nice gesture. On the other, Aster’s obvious glee at handing her a bag of their ugliest discards made it hard to be grateful.
Aster had just reached the door when she said, “Listen, Tommy’s an adult and he makes his own choices. But while you might be able to fool him, just know I see past your shiny surface to the devious, manipulative, selfish person you are.”
“And yet, you’re still willing to help.”
Aster sighed. “That says less about you, and more about me.
Don’t make me regret my good deed.”