“That wasn’t my intention, Deena. I apologize.” Goddamn Allie. This was her fault. Monica trusted the PR committee to do their job, but no, Allie wanted to micromanage. As usual.

Deena checked her phone once again. “Either I’m the PR chair, or I’m not. Pick one.”

“Of course you are. We just wanted to be thorough. And I apologize for crossing the line.”

“We? As in Allie? Look, Monica, everyone knows the deal. Allie runs the show, and you’re just her mouthpiece. But if you blindside me again, I’ll quit the board. And frankly, you need me.” She picked up her briefcase and nodded. “Good to see you.” And then she strode out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

A drive-by bitch slap. That’s what it felt like.

Monica fell back into her chair in an angry daze. Allie’s mouthpiece. The truth hurt. Monica worked hard to show she was up to the challenge of running the foundation. But with Allie pulling her strings, it was a little hard for Monica to prove her competence.

As soon as Deena left, Stella hustled into the office. “What did she want?”

“I stepped on her toes when I contacted the media.”

Stella fingered the beads around her neck. “Are you all right?”

“Does everyone on the staff think I sit in here all day and twiddle my thumbs?” Allie’s interference was starting to wear Monica down. But what could she do about it? She only had this job because of her sister.

“Oh, honey, anyone who’s seen you working day and night knows you’re great at your job. When this gala brings in more money than last year, the board will know it too. I was going to head out, but I can stay, if you like?”

“No, I’m good. See you Monday.”

It was almost noon, but Monica wasn’t hungry. Her stomach tangled into knots of frustration. And if worrying about her professional reputation wasn’t enough, she had a date with Cal.

All morning he’d been there, in the back of her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about last night. And not just the sex, although that had been amazing. Just hanging out with him, listening to him talk and tell her stories about all the places he’d been to—it was probably the best date she’d ever had.

In control. Eyes wide open. Right. Monica should focus on work, not Cal.

This gala needed to go off without a hitch. Monica wanted the entire board to see what she could do, how much money she’d raised. And then she’d tell each and every one of them to suck it.

Well, probably not. But she’d sure as hell be thinking it.

* * *

Cal questioned a security guard, who couldn’t recall the name of the cab company or the number plate. Why the bloody hell was the man in this business, if he couldn’t remember important details? Cal requested a look at the surveillance footage, which apparently required an act of God.

While he waited for approval, he called Jules’s phone for the tenth time. Straight to voice mail. She was ignoring him.

His father would never forgive him if something happened to her. Cal would never forgive himself.

Jules may be too young to gamble or drink, but that probably wouldn’t stop her if she hooked up with the wrong people. Monica knew this town, and she used to be a wild child herself, once upon a time. Perhaps she’d know where to look. That would be a start.

Without wasting another second, he dialed her. “My sister’s run off, and I need to find her.”

Monica didn’t miss a beat. “Here in Vegas?”

“Yes, she arrived last night, we rowed this morning, and she took off in a cab. I have no idea where she is, and she won’t answer her phone.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Monica. Thank you.” It had been fifteen years since he’d relied on anyone other than himself. It felt foreign to him. Strange.

As he waited, Mr. Lawson discovered the name of the cab company and had already spoken to the dispatcher. The cabbie had dropped Jules at Planet Hollywood. Cal wasn’t sure why, but Monica might know. Good man, that Mr. Lawson. He deserved every cent of the hefty tip Cal planned on giving him.

When Monica arrived twenty minutes later, Cal was waiting for her by the gated entrance. He threw one last look of irritation at the security guard, hopped into the passenger seat, and explained the situation.

Monica nodded. “I’m betting she’s at the Miracle Mile Shops. I know it well. It’s basically a mall, so I’m guessing she’ll feel right at home.”

“She can’t afford the mall. My father cut up all of her credit cards.”

Monica turned her head to look at him. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her dark glasses, but she pursed her lips slightly. “I’d check your wallet, if I were you.”

“Fuck.” Cal dug it out of his jeans. It had been stuffed with twenties and fifties this morning. “She left me three dollars and took two of my cards.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Cal. I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

As Monica drove, he gave her a brief history, leaving out the gory details about his father’s scathing disapproval. “They moved to California eight years ago. Now she has a DUI, and she’ll be twenty-one in three months.”

“Oh boy, are you in for a bumpy road.” She pulled into an enormous parking garage and eventually found a spot on the eighth level. “Cal,” she said, twisting the key out of the ignition, “Jules sounds a little lost. And I know something about that. It’s none of my business, but if she takes a lot of shit from your dad, you might want to go easy on her.”

He didn’t want to go easy on Jules. Cal wanted to haul her to the airport and toss her onto the plane. “I’ll do my best.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pinning her glasses on the top of her head. “She came to you. When she needed a place to land, you were her choice. So she trusts you.”

That took the self-righteous wind from his sail. Cal tugged his earlobe. He could have handled Jules with more tact and patience. “She can’t stay here, and I can’t very well force her into going back to L.A. I don’t know how to rein her in.”

Monica patted his thigh. “You can’t. She’s going to make her own choices. And I’m not saying she should stay here, I’m just saying use your indoor voice when you talk to her. Allie used to yell at me when I messed up, and I would shut down completely.”

She trained her blue eyes on him, looking so bloody sympathetic, Cal gave in to temptation. Snaking a hand around her nape, he kissed her. It was hard and brief, left him hungry for more than a taste. But for now, it had to be enough. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome. Now let’s go find your sis.”

When they entered the building, Cal stopped and gazed around. For some reason, all the stores had Moorish architectural features and looked as though they belonged inside a Moroccan town. He raised his eyes to the barreled ceiling painted to look like the sky. Cal tried Jules’s number once more. “She’s not answering.”

“She’ll turn up. Probably once she’s run through your money, but she will turn up.”

They wound their way around tourists and past kiosks, when suddenly, the artificial sky darkened. Thunder boomed.

Monica leaned over. “The rain show. Not that exciting. Come on, security is up ahead.”

“Well acquainted with the security here, are you?”

She donned a stony expression. He’d hit a nerve. She’d probably done something minor when she was young, and Allie had no doubt thrown a wobbler.

As they walked, Cal kept a lookout for Jules. Every flash of pink caught his eye. Every dark-haired girl captured his attention. But she could be anywhere.

At the security station, Cal described Jules. The man used his two-way radio to communicate the information to someone, somewhere. They paged Jules’s name over the PA system and alerted the various shops that he was looking for her. All pretty fucking useless.

“Why don’t we split up?” Monica asked. “You take one side of the shops, and I’ll take the other.”