Claim Me (Stark Trilogy, #2)(38)

I think about the rather adventurous things Damien and I have done together and bite back a very self-satisfied smile.

“So when do you get the money?” she asks.

“It’s already mine. But I need to tell Damien where to transfer it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jamie says.

I shrug. The truth is, I’m oddly hesitant to invest it. There’s so much riding on that money, and after seeing how my mother’s horrible investments went spiraling down the drain, I’m nervous about making my own choices. Of course, Mother’s failure was about her craptastic running of the family business and her ridiculous over-the-top spending habits, but knowing that I am not my mother and believing that I am not my mother are two entirely different things.

“I’ve been talking with brokers,” I say, which is sort of true. I’ve talked with two receptionists to make appointments to talk with brokers. From the way Jamie eyes me, I’m pretty sure she’s cluing in to my deception. “And enough about the money,” I say, as the bartender returns with our drinks. I lift my water. “To you. Today a commercial, tomorrow an Oscar.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“You’ll drink to anything.”

“True,” she says, and polishes off half the martini. “Would you have believed it?” she asks.

I don’t know what she means. “Believe what?”

“When we were in high school and you were doing all those damned Miss Corner Gas Station pageants and I was auditioning for community theater. Would you have believed we’d be in Los Angeles and I’d have a commercial and you’d be on the cusp of starting your own business? Not to mention lassoing the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

“No,” I say. “I never would have believed it.”

“So this is for both of us,” Jamie says as she holds out her fist, waiting for me to bump it. I do eagerly. “For two Texas girls who moved to LA on their own, we’re not doing half bad.”


Since Jamie walked to the bar, I drive us both back to the condo. It takes longer than I anticipate since my Honda keeps stalling out at the lights.

“Face it, Nik,” Jamie says. “You can’t do LA in this car.”

I’m afraid she’s right, but the truth is bittersweet. The car is the first thing I bought on my own. I’m proud of what it represents, and I can’t help but feel a little bit superstitious about the fact that she’s starting to die right now when I’m starting to take off.

“I’ll take her in for a tune-up soon,” I decide. “It’s probably just something like spark plugs or a gunked up carburetor.”

“Do you even know what a carburetor is?”

“No,” I admit. “But presumably the mechanic does.”

“Open your eyes and observe the reality, Nik. She’s been a great little car, but she’s going to stall out on the highway one day, and you’re going to be the lead story on the eleven o’clock news. ‘Billionaire’s girlfriend squashed like a bug in fifteen-car pileup.’ Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue. The truth is, she may have a point.

“Speaking of the billionaire boyfriend,” Jamie continues, “who all’s coming to the party tomorrow? I’ll finally get to meet Evelyn, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “And Blaine, of course. And you and me. We’re the only ones who know it’s me on that wall, so we’re keeping it intimate—”

Jamie interrupts me with a snort, and I curse my choice of words.

“We’re keeping it small,” I begin again, “until eight. That’s when the regular guests arrive to see all of Blaine’s paintings and do the mingling thing.”

“Cool. And Ollie?” She says it casually, and I can’t tell if she’s just making conversation or if there’s still something going on between the two of them. I know I should simply ask, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“He’s not coming,” I say.

“Not for the first part,” she clarifies. “I know you never told him about the painting.” She eyes me sideways. “Did you?”

“No,” I say firmly.

“I was wondering if he was coming to the rest of it. The showing, or whatever you want to call it.”

“I’m still calling it a cocktail party,” I say as I pull the car into my assigned parking space. “And no, he’s not coming. I think he and Courtney have plans,” I add, referring to Ollie’s fiancée. I feel guilty about the lie, but I don’t want to tell Jamie that Damien refused to invite Ollie to his home. It bothers me that Damien and one of my best friends don’t get along, but I get where Damien’s coming from.

Though they’d started out sniffing around each other like two alpha dogs, they’d ultimately forged a tentative truce. But that came to an abrupt end when Ollie told me some of Damien’s secrets—and breached the attorney-client privilege by doing so. Damien understands that Ollie thought he was protecting me, and that’s probably the only reason that Ollie is still a lawyer and still working in this town. Or on this continent, for that matter.

But Damien doesn’t want him in the house, and I can’t say that I blame him. I hope they find a way to get along, because I need both these men in my life. But it’s only been about a week since all the shit went down, and things are just too raw between them.