Page 72 of Traded

I can sense her circling, looking for a way in. “What if we—”

“She said no.”

Lauren’s voice is distinctly cool. “Rosie’s part of my team, Ness. She’s a colleague. Not an angle to be exploited. Perhaps we could discuss another approach after this.”

I dart a quick glance at her. She’s not looking at me. Lauren and Ness lock gazes, and I’m glad not to be in the middle of whateverthatis.

Lauren pushes her hair behind her ear. It exposes a long, deep, scabbed-over scratch across her temple, and I look away. “Let’s move on to the Sponsor Day schedule. We still have some gaps.”

Ness sighs, turning to the screen as Lauren plugs in her laptop. “Worth a try. We’ll find another angle, Rosie. No stress.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. “Sorry.”

***

“Rosie!”

Lauren catches up with me after hanging back to speak to Ness. Her hand curls around my elbow, and she stops me with an insistent tug. “What’s going on?”

It’s interesting. I feel curiously deflated when I look at her. As if a hand is pressing down, pushing back against the pain. It’s still there—if anything, it feels worse. More intense, more compact, pushed into a smaller box than it was meant to fit. But none of it comesout, and I’m glad. “What do you mean?”

She steps back, giving me space I don’t need. “You’re going to make me say it? Something’s up with you. What’s wrong?”

Liam did his work well. I even manage to smile. It’s the kind of smile I might give a bank clerk, or someone in the street. Polite. Distant.

It’s hard to summon up anything more than that. My eyes linger on her scratched skin. The scab is perilously close to her left eye. “Nothing’s wrong. Are you okay?”

“AmIokay?” She shakes her head and spreads out her hands. “This… you’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine.” I hoist my bag, my feet already seeking an escape. “The other night put some things in perspective for me. That’s all.”

“That’s not all.” She dogs my footsteps as I attempt to make a swift exit, grabbing my arm again and releasing it as quickly. “You’re not evenreactingto me. You don’t think that’s strange?”

“I’m adjusting.” I glance over the balcony at the sound of a shout, down to the circular space that splits off to the downstairs levels. A group is gathering. “I figured you’d be pleased.”

“I am many things right now.” Lauren looks stressed. Even a few perfect hairs are out of place. “Pleased is not one of them. Will you look at me?”

My head snaps toward her, and her brows knot. She has a new bag, I notice absently. Black leather embossed with her initials.Very nice. The gold clasp holds a familiar emblem. Jonas has at least three wallets from the same brand. “Nice bag.”

There’s no vitriol in my voice. There’s nothing at all.

“This is what I mean,” she says after a moment. Lauren takes a step closer, looking over her shoulder. Her voice lowers. “Youknowwhere this bag came from. This is… this isn’t right, Rosie. Seriously. If it’s because of the other night, things got out of hand. I shouldn’t have come into your nest.”

“I’m fine,” I say tonelessly. “It was a compliment.”

She looks like she wants to argue. “What about your scent?”

I’m doused in so much de-scenter that I’m surprised it’s not leaving a tell-tale trail behind me. It irritates the inside of my nose, bleach-like in its intensity. The tiniest flicker of panic threatens to break through the hard shell encasing me. “You can’t smell anything.”

It’s almost a question. But my voice wavers, and Lauren’s frown only grows deeper. “That’s what I mean. Why are you using de-scenter? My scent should be the issue if anything. Not yours.”

“It helps.” The lie slides so smoothly from my tongue that I almost believe it myself. “Did you need anything? For work?”

I glance over the rail again. Liam stands beside Georgio’s cart, arms folded. Ryker is talking to him animatedly, but his eyes are pointing up, looking between Lauren and I. He focuses back on me, and I feel my breathing quicken.

“Actually—”

“Excuse me.” I blurt out the words, pushing past her. My pulse hammers, a drumbeat in my head as I dart down the hall, away from her eyes and the suspicion lurking in them. I jab the button for the elevator. Lauren doesn’t follow, and I hurtle my way inside, my hands bouncing painfully off the mirrored wall before I blindly hit a button.