“Right, well, power can come in different forms,” I say dismissively. “And you have power too. The secrets you keep for him, that’s power, Jessica.”

She glares at me from across the table, her hands clenched into fists. “You’re right, Bell. I have power. And I will never share that power with you.”

The declaration hits me with the force of a slap.

Lander and Travis have both been suspicious of me at times, but they have never been suspicious of me for the right reasons. I’ve long since determined that Jessica is the least intelligent of the three . . .

. . . and yet she’s the only one who seems to have pegged me perfectly.

I underestimated her. I didn’t bother with any real finesse while trying to draw her out. And now she knows what I want. Which means she will not give it to me.

For a full minute we sit in silence as I desperately try to come up with a way to undo the damage, to backtrack, to make her see me as less of a threat. But there’s no wavering in Jessica’s glare. Finally her eyes move away from mine. She opens her purse and pulls out a tube of forty-eight-dollar lipstick and a heart-shaped Tiffany pocket mirror.

“So,” she says as she carefully drags the color across her lips. “Shall we go dress shopping now?”

A few hours later we’re in Saks and I’m carrying three different shopping bags, all of them filled with things that Jessica has bought for herself. I have tried everything to endear myself to her again. I’ve complimented her style and her figure. I apologized for getting in her way when she “accidentally” bumped into me and spilled some of her Fiji water down my shirt. I’ve zipped her in and out of countless garments. But she’s barely talking to me. And when she does it’s only to issue an order or an insult. She’s moderately more polite to the commissioned saleswomen, who are falling all over themselves in an attempt to please her.

“I do love retail therapy,” Jessica says with a sigh as she hands the saleswoman another thirteen-hundred-dollar scarf. The young, raven-haired, conservatively dressed saleswoman smiles enthusiastically, politely ignoring the fact that Jessica is having a hard time standing or enunciating. I had hoped that she would be sobering up by now, but she popped a pill less than a half hour ago and appears as plastered as ever. She turns to me with a lopsided smile. “I guess we’ll have to get you that dress now. Fifteen hundred dollars isn’t much to work with, but I suppose we can find something.