“Create a new identity, transfer most of your money. Be anybody you want, live whatever life you want. No more Shirley. No more foundation.”
I should laugh at him for suggesting such an outrageous thing. But I can’t. My heart longs for that exact life with a crushing intensity that leaves me breathless.
If I wasn’t Elizabeth Pryce-Reed, I could be an artist. Dominic wouldn’t hate me anymore. I could live someplace with a pretty shore and lead a quiet life away from the social scene…
“Sometimes you say the craziest things,” I say instead, keeping my tone light like I consider it a non-funny joke.
“Not crazy,” he says. “I can do it.”
“Let’s worry about my trip to Hawaii first.” His offer is as tempting as freedom to a prisoner, and I can’t let myself think about it.
“Fine, let’s talk Hawaii. I don’t like you going alone.”
“I won’t be vulnerable. Ming Ming takes security seriously.”
“I’m sure she does. But is her team good enough?”
“She doesn’t hire idiots.” Nibbling on my lower lip, I peruse my jewelry and pick up some diamond solitaires. Nothing says vivacious and classy like good ol’ diamonds and platinum. I need all the help I can get to project the right image, no matter how I’m feeling inside, how much I want to chuck this whole Hawaii trip and talk with Tolyan about what he just said instead.
Since I’ll be flying for hours, I leave my hair unbound and slip my feet into a pair of gold stilettos. “Did you find anything about the photo?” The picture has me in the center, going into the Starbucks, with Kristen by my side, most of her face hidden.
“Came from a burner bought in Las Vegas. The bastard tossed it. No signal, no GPS, nothing.” Tolyan rattles off more facts, but I start to tune out and take another sip of my wine. I’m not that interested in the make and model and spec of the phone used to take the picture.
“Right,” I say when he’s done because I can’t think of anything else. It still upsets me that someone’s been stalking me.
“I’m telling you, you should arrange for tighter security.”
The same old argument. Tolyan wants me to go everywhere with a team of big, scary men in black who eat smaller, less scary men for breakfast. Except I don’t want to do that. It’s ostentatious, and I value my privacy and freedom of movement too much.
And the worst of my stalkers was a guy who exposed himself and tried to masturbate in front of me. The creep had the misfortune of timing his performance just as I was meeting Tolyan. When Tolyan was through, the guy couldn’t walk, scratch his head or chew anything for weeks. I actually felt slightly sorry for Mr. Microdick.
“More security or not, he still would’ve taken the picture,” I say.
“He would’ve wet his pants if he’d seen the men I’d pick for you.”
“Stalkers aren’t a new problem.”
“But they keep you up.”
“My insomnia isn’t a new problem, either.”
Tolyan lets out an annoyed sound. “Your stalkers are becoming more sophisticated and careful.”
“Because you already broke the ones who aren’t.”
He smirks. “In Russia, those men would be dead.”
“I’m sure. But this guy never came close to me, which tells me he’s just a little coward who’ll run once he’s found out. If it’ll make you feel better, you can come with me to the airport, but once I’m there, I’ll be surrounded by security. And Mr. Stalker can’t fly with me.”
“Ah, yes. Your bartender boy has a fancy toy that flies now.”
I shoot him a sharp look. “Don’t be snide.”
“Not snide. Disapproving.”
“Relationships end, not always on a good note.” I’ve told him this before.
“Then why hasn’t the guilt ended?”