Rayelle moves on to Nicki, and I hold my breath.

“And to answer your question, my dad doesn’t know where I’m going.”

“Massage?” Rayelle asks.

Nicki doesn’t reply but offers up her hands. Rayelle squirts lotion onto the hand without the ring.

“I told him I was going to dinner with Eric,” Nicki continues. “Dad trusts Eric, but we still have to show up at this stupid party he’s hosting at our downtown penthouse by nine.”

“What about your bodyguards?” Garrett asks. “They must be able to track you. Won’t they tell your dad where we are?”

Nicki looks over her shoulder at him. “Not since Eric caught one of them making out with my publicist. Now they’re eating out of my hands. Besides, now that I’m getting new nails, I’ll have new tracking. They won’t be able to find me.”

“How did you catch them?” I ask Eric.

“I was in the right place at the right time,” he says. “They were in the backseat of Nicki’s dad’s Corvette.”

“My dad collects old cars. It’s such a waste of space,” Nicki says.

Rayelle switches hands.

I can barely hear the conversation over my pounding heart. Sweating, I keep focused on Nicki’s face, waiting for her to snatch her hand back and accuse Rayelle of tampering with her ring.

“I have a thing for old cars, too,” Eric/Nash says. “It’s awesome how they were built before computers. And since gas engines are illegal, her dad’s collection is totally contraband. It’s so cool.”

“Dad’s collection isn’t illegal. It’s above the law,” Nicki says. “He’s one of the few people on earth permitted to drive a gas car.”

“I was in the garage seeing if we could borrow his ’67 Lamborghini Miura,” Eric/Nash says. “And there they were, steaming up the windows—”

“Eric is not above the law,” Nicki interjects. “It is illegal for him to drive my dad’s cars.”

Eric/Nash smiles. “What’s wrong with a little bit of danger? I like to keep things interesting, but not so interesting you could get hurt.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Nicki says. “I love danger.” She says it to Garrett.

I wait for his reaction, for that flirtatious smile to spread across his lips, for his laser eyes to pierce her like they always do me, but all he does is nod.

Rayelle places Nicki’s hand on the table and walks away.

Is it done?

I suck in my breath. The manicurist applies Nicki’s nail chips, and I check to see if the new ring is in place. It’s identical to the original, so I can’t be sure, but in my periphery Rayelle straightens a vase of flowers. When she turns to her next customer, a white daisy is front and center.