The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(70)



“Somalia is deadly,” he says. “People don’t get into Somalia.”

“Sure they do,” I argue. Josh left and returned without a problem, and I’ve been in way too many nice, uneventful places deemed dangerous to take warnings too seriously. “There are embassies and tons of aid organizations traveling in and out. If they can manage, surely a woman with the money to buy the world’s best transportation can.”

“Drew,” he says with a sigh, “do you know anything about Somalia? You’d need to hire multiple armed guards just to get you anywhere in the city. And you might not even be safe then. If you want to earn yourself some good PR, there are easier places to go.”

I’m embarrassed to admit I’m going there for a guy, but I’m not sure Jonathan will help me if I don’t admit it. “I have a friend there,” I tell him. “Someone I’ve been seeing.”

He laughs. “It’s kind of cute…I wondered what you’d be like when you fell in love and now I know.”

“I never said I was in love with the guy.”

“Drew, honey,” he says, “you’re flying to Somalia to see him. I’m pretty sure that’s love. Or you’re insane.”

I’m way more comfortable with the idea of being insane.





In early March, I return to New York to film a cameo on a sitcom I don’t especially like. Davis and Stephanie claim it will raise my profile. I suspect they’re more concerned with raising their own.

When the first day of shooting is over, I sneak off set while Davis is trying to get people to go out to dinner. From there I take a cab to the Ritz Carlton where Ben Tate is waiting in a private room with another associate from his firm.

It took me a while last summer to persuade Tali that Ben and I were never going to happen because tall, hot guys in suits didn’t do it for me. Little did I know.

And Ben is hot, that part is non-negotiable. I just only seem interested in wildly unavailable doctors at this exact moment.

He shakes my hand and introduces me to his associate, Amelia. We make some small talk about Hayes and Tali and the baby, and then his hands steeple atop his notepad.

“So,” he says, “I understand you want to break up with some people.”

I nod. My heart is racing and I press a hand to my chest, waiting to feel air slip in and out of my throat. “I’m terrified,” I admit.

My phone buzzes on the table. Davis is calling me. “Do you need to get that?” Ben asks.

I shake my head. “Do you know how crazy this situation is right now?” I ask them quietly. “I don’t even know if he’s traced my whereabouts. There’s literally nothing in my life he doesn’t know more about than I do. He arranged this phone purchase. He hired my publicist and my accountant and my assistant and they all answer to him. I keep picturing that door opening and him walking in.”

Ben leans back in his chair and shrugs off his jacket. “Then before we do anything else,” he says, “maybe you ought to turn the phone off, just in case.”

I’d worried that I sounded paranoid. Now I wonder if I was paranoid enough.

Ben and Amelia ask questions and take copious notes. They’re so incredibly assured and thorough that I begin to hope they can actually get me out of this mess. But Ben says he needs to see my contracts and all that hope whistles straight back out of me.

Every contract is in the possession of Davis or other people Davis hired. I know of no way to get Ben a thing without alerting them all.

I tell them this, feeling like an idiot. “I was twenty when I got signed,” I explain, “and I was dead broke. I was just thrilled someone was willing to take charge and handle all the details, and anytime I need something, Davis has always just offered to take care of it.”

“Yeah,” Ben says. “I bet he did.” I hear in his sigh the words he kept to himself. Of course he offered to take care of it—he wanted to make sure no one was checking up on him. For a girl who insists she can’t lean on anyone, it strikes me that I allowed myself to just lie flat where Davis is concerned.

“As far as those contracts go,” he continues, “how do you feel about pretending to buy a house?”

I laugh. “What?”

“You’re going to decide to buy a house. An amazing, very expensive house somewhere in LA.” He turns to Amelia and she nods and pulls out her phone, already researching. “And I’m going to approach your accountant and whoever else for copies of those contracts, because obviously any bank would want to see them before they give you a loan.”

Amelia holds up her phone. “This one’s nice,” she says, showing us a twenty-two-million-dollar mansion with multiple pools overlooking the lights of the city.

I laugh. “I live in a one-bedroom right now. That’s quite the upgrade.”

Ben’s smile is brief. “Great. But I’ve got to warn you—there’s a strong possibility he’s been mismanaging things.”

My stomach sinks. “Mismanaging them…how?”

He frowns. “Drew, even decent people are seduced by power, by someone else’s money. Even decent people rationalize skimming off the top. And Davis doesn’t sound like he was ever a decent person.”

“So you think he’s been taking my money,” I whisper. I’m sure I sound impossibly naïve to him right now, since I’ve clearly painted Davis as an asshole. But there’s a vast divide between an asshole and a thief.

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