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horrific mistakes he’s made. But…I don’t want him to go to jail.”
    Drake ran his fingers through his hair, the inky strands falling over his forehead. “If it were up to me, I would have turned in your father. If not for the insider trading, he still ruined Trey’s body and a chunk of his mind. There are days he can barely walk, much less see. If he’d gotten medical treatment right after the attack…presently, that’s neither here nor there.” He leaned over the desk, pressing his fingertips against hers.
    “It’ll always be here or there. What surgery does Trey need?”
    He dragged in a deep breath. “He needs a spinal fusion, which would be commonplace, but his body is limited to one kidney that is weakening from year to year.”
    “Resulting from my father’s beating?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then maybe you should let Daddy go to jail.”
    “When I first encountered you…I had the wrong impression. I thought you were the spoiled rich bitch who cared for nothing but herself. But I’m easily seeing that’s not the case where you’re concerned, Elizabeth Bailey. So my advice to you is to remember people and things aren’t always what they seem to be, particularly Trey.”
    She wondered if a small part of Trey still loved her. “You share women with him, just like Avery and Dylan share, don’t you?” Payton had divulged the secret of Avery’s injuries, the reason that he and Dylan originally shared women.
    “We started for similar reasons, yes,” he replied curiously. “Trey used to be more of a mess than he is now. But for us to commit to a wife, to marry someone as Dylan and Avery are hoping to commit their eternities to Payton, Trey and I would have to love the same woman. I’m not ready to marry. I doubt I ever will be.”
    She had to laugh. “Spoken like a true playboy.”
    Drake stared at her for a hard moment, visibly pondering. Then his phone caught his attention. He read a text, wincing, and then ran his fingers over his screen. “It’s your turn for internet speculation.”
    “What are you talking about?” She stood, gripping his wrist and staring at his screen.
    He enlarged a picture of Trey helping her from the SUV. The next shot zoomed in on her colossal engagement ring, with the headline screaming: Another engagement for the firehouse girls?
    She groaned. “Great.”
    Drake was texting someone back. “Evan will have our public relations handle this. If for some reason the paps get past hotel security, don’t answer any questions.” He looked up from his screen. “No communicating with them, got it?”
    “I got it.” He didn’t have to tell her twice. She hated those vultures.
    “While were discussing pertinent rules, don’t go anywhere outside of the grounds. In fact, we’ve posted two bodyguards on you.”
    She held out her hands. “I’m expected to work at the theater.”
    “Call in.”
    “I can’t,” she explained. “It’s a special production for the children’s hospital fundraiser. They’ll fire me…I love that job. I need that job.”
    “Trey said he would send a donation, an obscene donation in your name promising more Easton funding. Your job will be guaranteed. Anything else?”
    Yeah, she’d rather work at the theater than stay at the hotel. “Money makes things really easy for you, doesn’t it?”
    “It doesn’t hurt.” He received another text, his mouth going into an immediate tight line. “My assistant called Stephen for you.”
    “What?” Why in the hell would his assistant call Stephen?
    “She told him that you were staying here for security reasons, that he should meet you downstairs at the waterside cafe by seven.”
    Libby’s teeth clanked together. “Why are my dates suddenly being arranged?”
    Drake waved his phone at her. “I’m sure Stephen has heard the news of your engagement by now.” He sighed. “I’m sorry these images were taken, but you need to tell him yourself. That’s part of Trey’s deal.” He curled his