The water was scalding.
Ivy stood under the showerhead, scrubbing her skin with a loofah until it turned raw and red. She was trying to wash him off. The smell of cedar. The feel of his hands. The phantom sensation of his teeth on her ear.
It wasn't working.
She stepped out and dried off. She put on the blue dress Clive had demanded. It was high-necked, long-sleeved. Modest. Boring.
She looked in the mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger. Her eyes were too bright. Her mouth looked swollen.
Her phone buzzed on the bathroom counter.
She picked it up. An unknown number.
A picture loaded.
It was a photo of a grey suit jacket. It was draped over the back of a beige sofa.
Ivy recognized the sofa. It was in the Hamptons villa.
A text followed.
Hank: Boss says you left a souvenir.
Ivy stopped breathing.
The jacket. Bruno had worn it this morning. He must have sent Hank into the villa after they left, planting it there for Clive and Catrina to find. It wasn't a mistake. It was a setup. A test.
The phone buzzed again. Another text, this time from Clive.
GET DOWN HERE. NOW.
Ivy's stomach bottomed out.
Clive Fitzpatrick was pacing in the hallway outside Ivy's apartment door. His face was a mask of fury.
Catrina was leaning against the wall, checking her nails. She looked bored, but there was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.
The door opened. Ivy stood there. She was perfectly put together. Hair in a chignon. Minimal makeup.
Clive didn't say hello. He shoved a bundle of fabric into her chest.
"Explain this!" he shouted.
Ivy caught it. It was the grey jacket.
She held it. The fabric was soft. Cashmere blend. She could smell the faint scent of Bruno on it.
"Where did you get this?" she asked. Her voice was calm. Unnaturally calm.
"We found it at the villa," Catrina piped up. "On the sofa. It was there when we walked in!"
Clive stepped into Ivy's personal space. "Who were you with, Ivy? Who did you bring to my house?"
Ivy looked at him. She saw the vein bulging in his forehead. She saw the doubt in his eyes.
She looked at Catrina.
She threw the jacket back at Clive. It hit him in the chest and slid to the floor.
"I don't know what kind of game you two are playing," Ivy said coldly. "But I don't appreciate you bringing your trash to my doorstep."
Clive blinked. "What?"
"You think I brought a man to the villa?" Ivy laughed. It was a harsh sound. "With what keys, Clive? I don't have a key to the Hamptons house. You never gave me one."
Clive froze.
He looked at the jacket on the floor.
"That's…"
"The code," Ivy pressed. "You change the alarm code every month. I don't know it. So unless I broke a window-which I assume you would have noticed-how did I get in?"
Clive opened his mouth, then closed it. The logic was sound. Ivy didn't have access.
He turned slowly to Catrina.
Catrina's smug expression faltered. "Wait. No. It was there. It smelled like…"
"Like what?" Ivy cut in. "Like the cologne of one of the men you pick up at the club, Catrina?"
Catrina gasped. "You bitch!"
Clive looked at his cousin. His eyes narrowed.
"Did you bring someone there before I arrived?" Clive asked.
"No!" Catrina shrieked. "It's hers! I know it's hers!"
Clive kicked the jacket. "Damn it!"
He ran a hand through his hair. He looked from Ivy to Catrina. He didn't know who to believe, but Ivy's logic was harder to break.
"Whatever," he muttered. "I don't care whose it is. Just get rid of it."
He looked at Ivy.
"We're leaving for the manor in ten minutes. Fix your face. You look pale."
He turned and stormed down the hall toward the elevator.
Catrina glared at Ivy. "This isn't over," she hissed.
Ivy didn't flinch. "Bye, Catrina."
Catrina stomped after Clive.
Ivy closed the door. She locked it. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood.
Her legs gave out. She slid down to the floor.
She looked at the grey jacket lying on her rug.
She crawled over to it. She picked it up.
She took a picture of it. She sent it to the unknown number.
Your trash is in my apartment. Come get it.
The reply came ten seconds later.
Keep it. It matches the blue dress.
Ivy stared at the screen.
He knew. He knew about the blue dress. Was he listening? Was there a bug in her apartment? Or in the jacket?
She stood up. She walked to her closet and shoved the jacket into the very back, behind her winter coats.
She was playing a game with a grandmaster. And she had just made her first move.
