“It’s going to be embarrassing.” I nibbled on my thumbnail, looking out the window.
“It’s going to be empowering,” Ransom retorted.
A thought occurred to me. One I must’ve shoved to the back of my mind while confronting my parents, who, by the way, were blowing up my phone and going straight to voicemail.
Turning sharply to my bodyguard, I said, “They can terminate your contract at any time. I basically spat in their faces and told them, not in so many words, that their assistance and financial support is unappreciated.”
I couldn’t imagine how I’d manage to survive without my parents’ help, but I knew it was time to remove myself from under their wing.
“They can’t.” Ransom punched something into his phone.
“How do you know?”
“I write my own contracts. No exit clause.”
“They might fire you just to spite me and keep you on their payroll.”
“You think very lowly of your family.” His eyes shifted from his screen, scanning me intently. “Besides,” he smiled, “they still think you hate me, remember? No way they’ll let you be rid of me now.”
Disappointment crashed into me, and I realized foolishly that I’d expected him to tell me he’d stay, even if they fired him.
The car slowed to a stop by a curb. Ransom tucked his phone into his pocket. “We’re here.”
Filing a complaint against Craig was relatively painless, everything considered. I recited the incidents coldly, in what almost felt like an out-of-body experience.
The two officers who took my statement allowed Ransom to be in the room, and asked their questions gently, giving me time to sort out the thoughts in my head.
When I walked out of the police station an hour later, I had fifteen missed calls from Mom, twenty from Dad, and dozens of unread messages.
Ransom and I slipped into the car. I rubbed at my temples, feeling the beginning of a headache. “I don’t even know where my sister lives.”
She’d never invited me over, never made the faintest effort to get to know me.
“I have it,” Ransom said.
“I wonder what life is going to be like after you,” I blurted out. “After you’re gone.”
He flashed me a smile. “Same as before, but with a lot more googling.”
Hera and Craig lived in an aquarium-like skyscraper downtown. All azure glass and high ceilings. The type with twenty-four-hour concierge, gym, spa, gourmet restaurant, and business center. Before we got there, Ransom asked the driver to stop by a small flower shop and purchased a big bouquet.
I stared at him, puzzled. “Looking to make a move, now that she’ll most likely be single?” I arched an eyebrow.
The only reason I believed Hera would be single was because there was no way she’d put up with the embarrassment of standing by Craig’s side if this went to trial.
“You know me too well,” Ransom said flatly.
When we entered Hera and Craig’s building, Ransom’s game became clear to me. He approached the uniformed concierge, holding the bouquet.
“Hello, I’m Ransom Lockwood, and this is Miss Hallie Thorne, Hera Thorne’s sister. We’re here on a social call, but would like to keep it a surprise from the newlywed couple.”
The man, in his mid-fifties, eyed the flowers with a smile. “Of course. Unfortunately, it goes against our policy. What apartment shall I ring?”
“Six-two-four,” Ransom said easily. “But preferably, you’d let us pass. See, we’ve arranged a surprise for the couple. I’m sure they’d appreciate the full impact of it if we arrive unannounced.”
The man looked torn. On one hand, there was a protocol. On the other, Ransom was incredibly convincing, and the flowers were gorgeous.
Finally, he groaned, “All right.”