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“You can make it temporary. You can always move to Singapore or even Australia,” he argues further. “Don is distracted at the moment. It’s a perfect time to make our move.”
I agree about the timing, but his plan is even worse than maintaining the status quo.
“Iz, we can’t just sit around here. Our chance will never come if we don’t create it. Raffi is ten. He still thinks Don is a friend. It won’t be long before that bastard uses him, just like he did me. Think about it!”
His compelling argument is stopped by a waiter taking my order.
Thoughts are competing in my head, like race cars making crazy laps, overtaking each other. I lean back, pressing my lips together. After a few seconds of silence, I slant forward, challenging him, “What happened to plan A?”
“What plan A?”
“Finding a non-dick who’s richer and more powerful than Don?”
“You know that was just a joke.”
“What if it’s not?”
His eagle eyes raise to me. “Iz? What happened in Nairobi?”
“I met someone.”
“Wow!” He looks into his coffee cup like it’s a crystal ball. “Wow…”
I wait for him to say something else, but he falls quiet.
I continue, “He and Don know each other, though.”
“God… who’s he?”
My eyes wander around the room as if someone might be overhearing us, then I whisper, “His name is Clayton Hartley.”
Thomas’ jaw drops.
All this time, I’ve felt that he’s grown up too quick. He’s built up muscle, and he grooms himself well, making him as swoon-worthy as Shawn Mendes. But that look when he heard Clayton’s name—that was his teenage-babe look.
“Hey, you know him?” I try to take my bestie out of his silly state.
“California’s most eligible bachelor? Dolce and Gabbana’s muse? My God, Iz! Why the hell did you never tell me that you met Clayton Hartley?”
“It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” His mouth gapes. “Babe, he’s my soulmate!”
I shake my head in a laugh. “He was outside the hospital waiting for me just now.”
“Fuck… is this real?”
“What do you know about him?”
“The Hartleys are certainly richer than Don, and arguably more powerful. How much does Clayton know about you?”
“He knew about my parents and Don senior.”
“And Nando?”
“I don’t know how much he knows about him.”
“Hmm… I don’t think he’s dug that deep yet. Your Isabelli Martins records are supposed to be invisible.”
