She yawned. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m taking my broken vagina back to bed.” I watched her walk funny, doing the

“I’ve been fucked hard” swagger down the hallway.

I shuffled behind her, feeling her pain echo in my own sore hips and thighs. “Yep.

Me too.”

I crawled my achy body into my cold, empty bed, thinking about how much sleeping without Ryan sucked.

A few days later I was Skyping with Ryan when the separation hit me hard. “I hate being away from you.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “You don’t have to be, you know.” I pulled my fingers back, as if his words had bite. “I know.”

He regarded me for a moment before turning his attention back to the documents in his hand. “Sell it. Cut yourself free.” As much as I’d thought about it there were several reasons why I couldn’t. “I can’t. Marie and Tammy rely on me, on this place. I can’t screw my friends like that. Besides, I need to work, Ryan. I’m not good with doing nothing or shopping every day.”

“I need you to manage my life,” he said simply.

“You just don’t want to deal with your mother,” I teased.

He scratched his head, distracted, seemingly frustrated. “That too.” I frowned at his lack of attention, which then had me tapping my finger on the image of his face, as if that would do the trick.

He finally looked up. “Listen, parties, family gatherings, holidays, vacations, all of that personal stuff is in your realm, Taryn. She wants to throw an engagement party for us—fine. Work it out, block out the dates, and put it on the calendar, and then when you’re done with all of that explain to me what these numbers are on my investment statements because I can’t figure out how I could lose so much in one quarter.” That was an easy one. “Your accountant sucks. Money needs to be managed, not resting in a coffee can until you have bills to pay.

He should be making more strategic invest-ments for you.”

“Well then, you need to fix this. I’m adding this shit to your wifely duties. You feel comfortable and you want to manage it, I’ll fire him. It’s that simple.” As good as that made me feel, part of me was freaked that I might screw up. The fact that he trusted me with his millions was humbling. “If you want me to.” He was all business, still reviewing documents. “I want you to, starting now. I’m emailing the files to you. Let’s get this shit straightened out because I am so not liking losing five fucking figures on market fluctuations.”

I could do that. “Okay. By the way, are you ever going to give me my debit card back?” He didn’t bother to look up, simply saying, “No. And don’t ask again.” I was startled by his abrupt, authoritative tone.

“I

seemed to

remember you

threatening punishment if I tried to steal it back.”

That got his attention. “You want to defy me?”

It was worth considering. “Maybe.” His eyes heated with the challenge. “Just make sure your lovely ass is on a plane on Tuesday. I’ll deal with you then.”

“Trish is taking me dress shopping and then I’ve arranged for us to have dinner with Call and Kelly Wednesday night.” I watched the hint of a smile spread across his lips. I knew it pleased him that I was making ties within his circle of celebrity friends. “Good. Very good. They’ll be at the MTV Movie Awards, too. You nervous?” This

would be

my

first

awards

show—ever. I hadn’t really checked my nerves with everything else going on. Ryan looked over his shoulder. That’s when I saw Mike’s head flash in the background.

“Problem’s been contained,” Mike muttered.

“Ten minutes.”

“Okay, thanks.” Ryan turned back to me.

“You still flying back with me to Vancouver on Thursday?”

“What’s going on there? What problem?” I could see him trying to decide whether or not to share. “Some overly enthusiastic fans got onto the set. They were mingled in with some of the extras. We had to take a break from filming to sort it all out.” My skin prickled. “Are you in danger?”

“No.”

For some reason I didn’t believe him.

“Would you tell me if you were?” My eyes met his on the screen. “I’m not in danger, babe. I don’t need you worrying for nothing.”

I was just about to argue when Marie came in, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses in a clear crystal vase. “Someone got flowers.” She beamed at me.