Page 43 of Saving Ian Pope

I snorted, but my heart was hammering in my chest. “Yeah, ’cuz he’s Ian Pope. If Ian Pope wants to hold your hand and kiss you, you’re gonnna let him. Nothing else happened. He didn’t take my contact info. For all I know, he’s back in England. I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again.”

“He’s not back in England, and he’s worth eighty-five million bucks.” Matt clicked his tongue, which meant he was using his limited brain cells for thinking. “Anything happen in that limo? Did he grab your ass? Force you to give him a blow job?”

“You’re disgusting. He had some party to go to, didn’t invite me, and had the driver take me home after the driver dropped him off. Nothing happened.”

“C’mon, Ivy. Doesn’t mean you can’t claim something happened. Threaten him. Tell him you’ll go to the press and let them know he was drunk and sexually assaulted you in the back of the limo. That shit happens all the time. He won’t want his precious comeback to derail, and he’ll pay you a couple mil to keep quiet, and you can send a few of those stacks my way.”

Matt had done his research, just like Dad had taught us to study every mark. The food I’d eaten earlier churned in my stomach, and I felt as if I was gonna hurl.

“I’m not doing that. I barely know the guy. He wouldn’t even remember my name, and besides, he’d probably call an attorney and a private investigator, and once they started looking into my background, we could both be in trouble. Aren’t you still on probation?”

“You’re not lying to me, are you, Ivy? ‘Cuz we both know you’re a damned good liar. That’s why Dad liked using you so much—that sweet face hiding a whole different kind of animal.”

“I’m not lying.” I sucked some air into my lungs. My heart was racing so fast, I’d started hyperventilating. “I don’t know this guy. Any attempt to get money out of him would be laughably transparent.”

“You’d better not be lying to me, sis.” Matt had dropped the jovial conman act, and his words held a threat of menace that caused a chill to ripple down my spine. “Because if I find out you’re seeing Ian Pope behind my back, I’ll fuckin’ destroy you.”

“Wh-what does that mean? How are you going to destroy me?” My legs twisted into a pretzel beneath the table.

“You know that last con you ran with Dad against the Browne family? The one at the warehouse. The one that cost Dad his life.”

I nodded stiffly, even though Matt couldn’t see me.

“Remember Dad saw the cameras in the warehouse on his way out and sent me back to get the video.” He gave a short laugh that stabbed me in the heart. “I still have that footage, and you’re on it, running a con with dear old Dad, as identifiable as you are in those paparazzi photos with Ian Pope.”

Chapter 15

IAN

The front door creaked open, and I looked up from stirring the pasta. “Tink?”

Keys landed in the basket in the hallway with a jingle, and Ivy came around the corner of the kitchen. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Cooking dinner.” I spread my arms, water dripping onto the floor from the slotted spoon in my hand. “I’m making some creamy salmon pasta, just to thank you and Chloe for letting me crash here for the past two weeks.” Ivy stared at me with rounded eyes, her cheeks pale. “Are you alright? Where’s Chloe?”

“She went to a meeting. I thought she’d be home by now.” She retreated to the sitting room and placed her bag on top of the coffee table. “You didn’t have to do this. Where’d you get the salmon?”

“At that fresh fish shop on Colorado. Road your bike.” I tilted my head to the side. “You sure you’re okay? You look knackered. Did you get a lot of work done?”

“Not really. You?” She waved a hand at my laptop still set up for my music production, next to her bag.

“I got loads done. Sent stuff over to Hugh.” The sauce on the stove started bubbling, and I turned down the heat beneath it. “I’m giving you writing credit on two of the songs.”

“What? No.” She sank down on the edge of the table, her shoulders rounded. “Why would you do that? I don’t deserve it.”

“You contributed so many lyrics to ‘Muse’ and ‘Van at the Greek.’ Those are my working titles for two of the songs. You helped me so much, and that’s the way it works. Those songs wouldn’t be what they are without your input. Your way with words and turn of phrase—Hugh agreed. Dead unique, they are.”

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, her chin dropping to her chest. I turned off everything on the stove and ate up the distance between us in a few long strides. Kneeling in front of her, I asked, “What’s wrong? Did something happen when you were out? Did you read something?”

God, I hoped Jessica hadn’t made good on her threats already. Had Ivy seen something about me? Jack would’ve warned me if something had popped up. It was like playing a game of whack-a-mole.

Her head jerked up, and her lips stretched into a smile as she placed her hands on my shoulders. “I’m just tired. Bad day writing. Couldn’t get anything to work.”

Maybe my impending departure was playing havoc with her emotions. I felt it too, but I was just trying to hold onto the thought that I’d be with her after a short while. I began to gather her to my chest, and she flung herself at me so wildly we both wound up on the floor with her on top.

She laughed suddenly, dispelling the shadows on her face, and kissed me hard on the mouth. “How can I help you in the kitchen?”

Before we could roll to our feet, Chloe sailed through the front door and tripped to a stop. “Oh my God. Are you two doing it on the living room floor now?”

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