LONDON

I sat across Neke at the coffee shop. “It’s just been twenty-four hours, right?” Who was I trying to convince? Neke or myself?

Reed was back as my bodyguard. He could be less chatty, so bored I could die to death, or lenient if he wanted to.

“Tell me why you like Striker so much. I mean, I get it. He’s hot and all, but why, of all the hedge fund guys or billionaire boys club, what did you see in him?”

“I first met him two years ago.”

“Wait. Hold on.” Neke held my hand. “What do you mean you met him two years ago? What happened then?”...