“Done,” she said triumphantly.
“But, Peyton—”
“How do you two know one another?” his blond friend on the couch interrupted.
“My father owns the Diamond, and I live in the Residences with my sisters,” Peyton said, grateful for the switch of topic. “Hunter hangs out here sometimes, so I’ve seen him around.”
“Hanging with socialites?” His friend cocked an eyebrow and raised his beer. “Cheers, mate.”
Peyton hardly considered herself a socialite—a few months ago she’d been a nobody from Fairfield, California—but whatever they wanted to think was fine by her. It was better than them knowing she was one of Hunter’s students.
They hung out in the cabana for a while, chatting about Vegas and the places they had to visit while on vacation—or as they called it, “on holiday.” Peyton shared a couch with Hunter, and they all laughed, drank beer and had a good time. His friends were cool. If Peyton ever visited Australia, she would hit them up so they could show her around.
Thirty minutes into the conversation, her iPhone lit up from inside her pool bag. She grabbed it to see who had texted her.
Jackson. They’d exchanged numbers that summer, when he’d first been assigned to be her bodyguard, but he never sent her texts. Her heart beat faster in anticipation of what it could say. She clicked to the message, and smiled when she saw he hadn’t sent one text—he’d sent four.
1: Why are you bringing your teacher and his friends into your cabana?
2: Do you know how much trouble he could get into if he’s caught drinking with a student?
3: If Adrian finds out about this, he’s not going to be happy. Think, Peyton. Is this worth it?
4: If you don’t get them to leave, I’m coming in after you.
Peyton imagined what a scene it would cause if Jackson stormed in here, dressed in his intense bodyguard suit, and she couldn’t help it—she laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Hunter asked.
“Nothing.” She bit her lip, her fingers hovering over the screen. “Just something a friend sent me.”
We’re just hanging out having a few drinks…no one will find out. No need to come in after me. Unless you want to join in the fun ;)
She pressed Send and tossed the phone back into her bag without waiting for Jackson’s reply. Let him wonder…or better yet, let him come in.
The phone lit up a few more times, and as much as she itched to see his response, she ignored it.
“Someone’s texting you,” Hunter said, motioning toward her phone.
“It’s just my bodyguard.” Peyton shrugged, careful not to show how the thought of him distracted her from everything else. She needed to have fun with Hunter and his friends—not pine over Jackson. “He can be overprotective, but he’ll back off.”
“Why do you need a bodyguard?”
Peyton leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “So I don’t get kidnapped,” she said, lowering her voice so she sounded mysterious.
“I guess that’s something you have to worry about when your family has heaps of money,” Hunter’s short friend on the other side of him, who was named Eddie, said. “You must have loads of interesting stories.”
Peyton wasn’t sure if she should share anything personal about her family, but these guys would be back in Australia soon, so what would it matter? “One of my sisters was kidnapped as a baby and held for ransom.” She paused for dramatic effect and looked each of them in the eye, as if she were telling a ghost story around a campfire. “My father got her back safely, but ever since then, we’ve had bodyguards. Mine can be a real pain. He’s practically my age, but he’s always trying to tell me what to do.” She rolled her eyes, since if she acted like Jackson irritated her, they wouldn’t see that she had feelings for him. “So annoying.”
“Sounds like it,” Eddie agreed. “You don’t seem like the type who likes being told what to do.”
“You got that right,” Peyton agreed.
“What’s he so uptight about, anyway?”
“He doesn’t like that I closed the door to the cabana,” she said, because she couldn’t exactly say he was upset that she was drinking with her teacher. “He gets antsy when he can’t see me. As if there aren’t enough eyes in the sky in this town.”
“Eyes in the sky?” Eddie scratched his chin and looked up.
“The cameras.” Peyton pointed to the black glass half circle lodged into the ceiling. “They’re everywhere, especially in the casinos. You haven’t noticed?”
“I saw them, but I didn’t know what they were.” He shrugged. “Now I do.”
Hunter shook his head at Eddie, as if he thought his friend was missing a few brain cells. “If your bodyguard is worried about the door being closed, maybe my mates and I should be on our way,” he said, moving to get up from the couch. “We wanted to play some poker today, anyway.”
“My bodyguard is fine,” Peyton said calmly, although she was pretty sure Jackson was worried about her—which she kind of liked. Really liked, actually. “Like I said, he gets overprotective. I’m not going to get kidnapped right now—unless one of you isn’t telling me something?” She looked at his friends mischievously.
“Let’s stay here a little bit longer,” one of Hunter’s other friends—Thomas, with slicked-back hair, who Peyton thought was a little sleazy—piped in as he grabbed another beer from the minifridge. “How often do we get to hang in poolside cabanas with hot Vegas hotel heiresses? Wait—don’t answer that, Hunter. I’m sure you do this stuff all the time, but for us plebs it’s a luxury.” He turned to Peyton, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Are your sisters planning on joining us?”
“They’re busy.” Peyton shrugged, glad it was the truth. She wouldn’t want Thomas within fifty feet of her sisters. “But if you all want to play poker, there’s a deck of cards around here somewhere.”
“What’re we playing for?” Eddie asked.
“Money, a round of drinks, lunch,” Peyton suggested. “Unless you have anything else in mind?”
“I’ve got a few things in mind.” Thomas ran his eyes up and down Peyton’s body, which made her shudder.
“We keep this PG, or I’m going into the casinos to play, and you’re all coming with me,” Hunter insisted. Peyton smiled at him in thanks. She’d played strip poker before with friends, but the way Thomas was looking at her made her want to put her cover-up back on. Plus, the friends she’d played with were people she knew, who were her age. This was different. She might be daring, but she wasn’t stupid.
She’d just grabbed the deck of cards when the curtain flew open, revealing a very pissed-off Jackson. He stood in the entrance, looking out of place in his uniform amongst the bathing suits everyone else had worn to the pool. His arms were crossed, and the vein in his forehead looked about to burst.
“Apologies for the intrusion, but Miss Diamond’s father needs to see her immediately,” Jackson said, his voice clipped.
“‘Miss Diamond’ is an adult, and can see her father when she’s ready,” Thomas said, clearly after one beer too many, since he appeared unaffected by Jackson’s commanding presence.
Jackson stared him down, the anger in his eyes so intense that Thomas averted his gaze. “I would hardly consider a seventeen-year-old to be an adult.”
“Seventeen!” Eddie laughed, coughing on a mouthful of beer. “Hunter, she could be one of your students!”
Hunter looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet. Peyton must have looked guilty, as well, because understanding crossed over Eddie’s face.
“No way.” Eddie gasped. “You’re not actually one of his students, are you?”
Peyton’s face heated, her throat so tight that she couldn’t bring herself to answer. “I’ve gotta go.” She grabbed her bag and hurried to the exit
of the cabana. “You all can keep the cabana—it’s on me. Have fun!” She barely met Hunter’s eyes as she stomped after Jackson. Jackson refused to turn around to look at her—this was bad. She had to say something to fix this.
“Why does Adrian want to see me now?” she asked him once they were inside. She hadn’t realized her father was back in town—he’d left for business in Macau a week ago. He was supposed to be there for another few days.
“He doesn’t,” Jackson said, still not turning around. “He’s not back in town yet.”
Peyton stopped walking, which got him to stop and face her. His expression was so cold, and he was giving her that awful look, like he thought she was an immature kid. Like he was disappointed in her. It made her feel like crap. If she were a year older, there would be nothing wrong with her talking and playing cards with Hunter and his friends in the cabana. There were so many worse things she could be doing. It was stupid of Jackson to get riled up about this.
“If Adrian doesn’t need to see me, then why did you burst into the cabana, call me out and pull me away from my friends?” she snapped. “We were having fun, if you know what that is.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she felt bad. Maybe that was too harsh. Jackson was only trying to do his job. But it was already said, so there was no taking it back.
“Those weren’t your friends.” Jackson stepped closer to her, his eyes blazing, which made her pulse race and her limbs go numb. “That was your teacher and his friends. Do you have any idea how much trouble he could get in if anyone knew he was drinking with you? And do you understand how angry Adrian will get if pictures leak to the public? Tabloids would have a field day with that story.”
“Tabloids don’t know I exist,” Peyton said.
“Don’t you ever look yourself up online?”
“No.” Peyton laughed. “Unlike Savannah, I don’t browse the internet for hours. Especially not to look myself up.”
Jackson took out his phone, typed something into it and handed it to Peyton. Curious, she took it to see whatever he wanted to show her. It was Google, with her name written in the search bar and the results listed below:
Las Vegas casino owner Adrian Diamond’s daughters—Peyton, Courtney and Savannah—move to the Strip to live with him in his newest luxury hotel.
Peyton, Courtney and Savannah Diamond attend the grand opening of the Diamond Hotel and Residences.
The real-life fairy tale of Peyton, Courtney and Savannah Diamond: The secret heiresses to Diamond Resorts Worldwide.
And the list went on. Tons of popular websites had heard of, and written articles about, Peyton and her sisters’ return to Vegas. Google Images had pictures of her, too. People who had never heard of her a few months ago now not only knew her and her sisters’ names, but what they looked like. Something about that was weirdly creepy.
“Adrian’s kept you and your sisters out of the spotlight, so everything out there about you is mild so far,” Jackson said, taking his phone back. “But if reporters find out about your Saturday afternoon cabana party with one of your teachers, they’ll destroy you and him. I’m sure Adrian has made it clear that all your privileges would be taken away, too.”
“I’ve lived without these ‘privileges’ for most of my life,” Peyton reminded him.
“I know,” he said. “But you’ve changed since then. You certainly seem used to your Saturday afternoon cabanas. Do you know how much those cost?”
Peyton shook her head, dreading the answer. Last summer, the first time she’d mentioned wanting to go to the main pool, Rebecca had reserved a cabana for her and her sisters. Ever since, Peyton had done the same. She’d assumed the cabanas were free for her because her father owned the hotel.
“One cabana is four hundred dollars a day on the weekend,” Jackson said. “If the tabloids find out about your escapades with your teacher, I’m guessing Adrian will take away your credit card privileges. That means no more cabanas.”
“Oh.” Peyton followed Jackson back to her condo, feeling like an idiot. She’d just been having fun with Hunter and his friends—it hadn’t crossed her mind that hotel guests might recognize her and take pictures of her to send to reporters. No wonder Hunter had been so antsy. “I closed the curtain door of the cabana,” she said, even though, listening to herself now, it sounded lame. “No one could see what was going on inside, so you didn’t have to barge in and embarrass me.”
“I was trying to protect you,” Jackson said. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I can handle myself fine.” She clenched her fists, half wanting to march back to the cabana and resume the game of poker with Hunter and his friends. But she didn’t want to get Hunter fired. And she remembered the looks on his friends’ faces when Jackson had spilled her age—discomfort. In seconds she’d gone from someone they wanted to spend time with to a kid.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be awkward when she saw Hunter on Monday morning.
“I know you can handle yourself,” Jackson said. “And I’m sorry it conflicts with your fun, but I have to do my job.”
With that, he closed the door to the condo, leaving her inside and alone.
Chapter 8: Madison
Madison glared at the numbers on her scale and wrapped her arms around her bloated stomach. How had she gained seven pounds?
Ever since her parents had told her about Adrian Diamond being her biological father, with strict instructions that she tell no one, the secret had been suffocating her. She couldn’t go out with her friends without feeling like every word to them was a lie, so she’d barely gone out at all. Her weekdays consisted of going to school, doing homework and marathon-watching The Vampire Diaries until she was tired enough to go to sleep. Weekends were the same, although instead of school she had SAT prep class on Saturday afternoon.
She couldn’t get motivated to go to the gym anymore, and her diet had gone out the window. Luckily it was fall, so she could wear sweaters to hide her stomach. But if she kept eating so much pizza, fried food, carbs and cheese, it was going to be impossible to lose the weight for the annual Lockhart family winter break trip to the Caribbean.
Assuming there would still be a Lockhart family winter trip. She couldn’t look at her parents anymore without being reminded of their betrayal. How was she supposed to enjoy a week in the Caribbean with them?
She stepped off the scale, glad when the number disappeared from the screen. She should stay off it until she got back on track with her diet. Seeing the numbers going up was making her feel worse. Her twenty-six-inch True Religion jeans that had been loose in the summer barely zipped up now, and she hated the idea of having to buy a pair of twenty-seven-inch “fat jeans.” After this weekend, she had to get back on track.
The doorbell rang—dinner had arrived. Her parents didn’t cook, so when they were home for dinner—which had been happening a lot more since the Adrian-Diamond-is-your-biological-father bomb had been dropped—it consisted of going out, ordering in or reheating leftovers. Tonight, they’d ordered room service. Her mom opened the front door, and Madison stayed in her room while the servers set up the meal in the dining room.
“Madison!” her mom called. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Coming!” she yelled back, glancing in the mirror. She hadn’t showered, since the only place she had to be today was her semiprivate SAT tutoring session. Her hair was flat, and she had no makeup on, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be seeing anyone tonight besides her parents.
She threw on a sweatshirt she hadn’t worn since middle school and headed to the dining room. Her parents were already seated, and she took her place in front of her cheeseburger (with extra cheese) and fries. Her wineglass was full, and there was a half-empty bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay on the table, one of her favorites. Her parents usually ordered it as a celebration or a
consolation.
Madison suspected tonight was the latter.
“How was SAT class today?” her mom asked, cutting into her mahi-mahi. Grilled fish and vegetables was normally what Madison ordered, too, since it wasn’t fattening. But her cheeseburger and fries looked much more delicious.
“Fine,” Madison said, taking a huge bite of her burger. It was absolutely heavenly. “We did a practice run of the math section and I scored better than the other three kids.” She forced the excitement into her tone that she would have felt before her world crashed down on her two weeks ago, but she could tell it sounded fake.
“That’s good,” her dad said in between bites of filet. “Do you have plans with your friends tonight?”
Did she look like she had plans with her friends tonight? Madison wanted to say something snarky, but instead replied with a simple, “I’m just staying in. I have a lot of homework, with it almost being the middle of the semester and everything.”
“But it’s a Saturday night,” her dad said. “Homework has never stopped you from enjoying a weekend night. You’ve always been great at getting everything done on Sunday.”
“Junior year is harder than sophomore year,” Madison lied. “We get more homework over the weekend, and I won’t be able to keep up my 4.0 if I wait until Sunday to do it all.” Besides, now that she’d gained weight, her form-fitting dresses would make her look like a cow.
“We understand that.” Her mom put her fork down and took a sip of wine. “But, Madison, you’ve barely left the condo in two weeks except for school. Your dad and I are worried about how you’re handling the situation.”
The situation. That was what they’d been calling the truth. Ever since that day, she’d felt like they were strangers. She was pissed at them for lying to her, and she hated that she couldn’t tell anyone about how her entire life had fallen apart in the blink of an eye. They’d made it especially clear she couldn’t tell Adrian what she knew.
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