Niko smacked her lips. “I’d open my own hair salon in Beverly Hills,” she said with a hungry gleam in her eye. “I’ve been dying to get my foot in the Golden Triangle, right off Rodeo Drive. Rent is astronomical there, and the competition is brutal. But with the million dollars, I could build a high-end luxury space from scratch.”
“What about you, Adrienne?” Amy asked, nodding toward her.
Adrienne was momentarily caught off guard. The truth was, she hadn’t given the prize money a single thought. To her, a million dollars wasn’t exactly life-changing money. It was pocket change. She’d once lost a limited-edition Hermès Birkin bag worth eighty thousand dollars at LAX and hadn’t made any effort to call airport security once she’d gotten back home. Still, she had enough self-awareness not to say that out loud. “Umm... I’ll have to think about it,” Adrienne said smoothly, diplomatically. “How about you, Valerie?”
Valerie glanced up at her, but luckily she hadn’t mentioned anything about Adrienne’s wealth. Up until now, no one had made the connection between Adrienne Vale and the Vale Hotel empire.
“I’ll use it to build my house in Sitka,” Valerie said. “And a house for my parents.”
“Sitka?” Adrienne asked, shocked. “Do you mean Sitka in Alaska?” The only reason Adrienne even knew Sitka was in Alaska was becauseThe Proposalwas her all-time favorite romantic comedy. She couldn’t imagine Valerie being remotely suited for a life in a rugged, fog-drenched town unless Valerie’s family were like the Paxtons and owned an entire island.
“Yes,” Valerie said, nodding. “I grew up there. My mom used to own a small hair salon on Lincoln Street called Coastal Cut. And my dad worked at the harbor. I grew up on the dock.” She placed her glass on the wooden side table and popped a piece of feta in her mouth. “I bought land just off Sitka, and the million dollars is all I need to get things really going.”
This was all very surprising. Shocking, in fact. But why was it so shocking? Valerie had a past, a whole life that existed outside of this game. It was just that Adrienne had expected her to come from suburbia, somewhere in the middle of Ohio or Pennsylvania, to parents who worked boring middle-income jobs like insurance or teaching, who sent her for extra tennis lessons and SAT prep classes. She certainly hadn’t imagined her growing up wearing flannel and descaling fish with a fillet knife.
“That sounds lovely,” Amy started. “And so—”
“Wait,” Adrienne interrupted. Her brain was still processing and had yet to catch up. “So you actually want to live in Alaska? On purpose. Isn’t it always cold and rainy? I can’t imagine living somewhere so depressing.”
Valerie sat up and frowned. “Depressing? Why would it be depressing?”
“Because there’s no sun,” Adrienne replied, as if it were obvious. Her body was made up of water and UV rays. She couldn’t think of any place worse to live than somewhere that spent most of the year beneath a cloud of drizzle. Adrienne hadonce forgone a reservation at a cliffside pavilion in Amanpulo just because the weather predicted a weekend of rain. “What do you even do there when it pours for three weeks straight? Sit inside your log cabin and whittle logs?”
Valerie leaned forward. Her hair was still wet, and she had it hanging down her back. A few strands fell forward like an inky curtain framing her face, a face that looked somewhat pissed off. “We put on a raincoat and go outside,” she said firmly. “Some of us don’t melt the second a drop of water touches our hair. Besides, the mist over the mountains is beautiful if you actually have the depth to appreciate something that isn’t filtered on your Instagram page.”
Adrienne’s jaw tightened. She hadn’t expected Valerie to lash out like that. At least not the post-hookup-in-a-pine-forest Valerie, or the Valerie who had stood up for Adrienne at The Sending. This was entirely unexpected.
“Are you implying that I don’t have depth?” Adrienne shot back, though it was a pathetic attempt at a retort. Unfortunately, her limoncello had gone straight to her head, and whatever witty response she might’ve had was currently floating somewhere out over the Aegean Sea.
“I’m not implying it, Adrienne. I’m stating it,” Valerie said, her voice dropping so low that the hairs on Adrienne’s arms stood up. “You just dismissed an entire culture and community because you don’t like rain.”
Adrienne huffed. “Forgive me if I prefer having a tan over freezing in mud.”
“It’s the Tongass National Forest, Adrienne. It’s not some muddy wasteland,” Valerie countered. “In the summer, we get eighteen hours of daylight, and the sun hitting the Pacific is brighter than anything you’ll see on a European beach. We have incredible restaurants, local art, and a community of people who support each other. It’s not depressing. It’s alive.”
Adrienne’s heart was flapping wildly in her chest. But it wasn’t just anger fueling the fire; it was desire. Adrienne had an intense, maddening desire to lean across the space and kiss Valerie until her toes curled. She wanted to taste lime on her breath, to feel Valerie’s wet hair beneath her fingertips. She wanted to take her behind the wooden slats of the outdoor shower and rip her bikini clean off.
Instead, she surrendered. She let out a slow breath, picked up her half-empty glass spritzer, and took a long sip before she said something she regretted, before production could politely fire her from the game. Could they do that? She refused to find out.
“Well,” Niko said, cutting in. She stretched across the table for a fig dripping with honey. “I think maybe we should change the subject to something that actually matters. Like an alliance.”
Valerie sat back against the lounge chair again. “If you’re willing to team up with us even after what just happened, we’ll be your ride or die.”
Niko laughed. “Then consider us officially locked in.” She smiled. “What do you think of bringing Sienna and Tamera into the mix?”
“If you can convince them,” Valerie said, stretching her arms above her head. “That would be amazing.”
Adrienne said nothing. She was too fucking pissed off to be happy that Niko and Amy were officially on their side. How dare Valerie insinuate that Adrienne was shallower than a puddle? Adrienne had depth. Entire oceans of it, thank you very much, and she sure as hell was prepared to show exactly how much.
Chapter Thirteen
Valerie had to admit that watching Adrienne do any kind of manual labor was not only amusing; it was a spectator sport. It had quickly become apparent that Adrienne had never so much as washed a dish in her life. Earlier, she’d filled the rice pot with seawater, sloshed it around before abandoning it in the sun in the hopes, Valerie thought, that it would clean itself. And she certainly had never swung a machete against the bark of a stunted olive tree.
Not that Valerie was going to offer any help, not after Adrienne had called her hometown a depressing wasteland. Valerie didn’t usually hold grudges, very rarely, in fact, but when someone attacked the very place she dreamed of making her home again, she was perfectly happy to sit back and watch them struggle.
And watch she did. Valerie sat on a log under the shade of a young tamarisk tree, just close enough to the fire to catch the drift of smoke while her eyes stayed on Adrienne wielding the machete like she was swinging a baseball bat.
“Is she trying to kill herself? Because if she is, there are less painful ways,” Isla asked, strolling over. She dropped onto the bark and adjusted her cap. Her wife, Tamsyn, had gotten the front leather patch of the cap engraved with their twins’ initials, hoping it would impart some luck. For Valerie’s sake, she hoped it did not.