“You’re not. You’ve already had two wins this week, three if you count the salmonella.”
That was true.
Firstly, Point Team India had retrieved seven-year-old Gabriela from a weirdo’s ranch in Colorado. During the process, the weirdo had gotten trampled by a horse, so I guess the four-legged fiends did have some good points.
Secondly, the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Office had found Marielle Marten’s body in a shallow grave beneath the summerhouse at the property on Long Island. Her skull was caved in, probably thanks to the rolling pin that was found buried beside her, and her debit card was in her jacket pocket. Oops. Guess Rayna missed that one.
Interpol had issued a Red Notice, requesting Rayna Bishop’s arrest, and the Mexican authorities had been alerted. Nothing would ever come of that, obviously, but it was the thought that counted. At least Marielle could rest in peace now, hopefully with a proper headstone. Angelo had balked at the prospect of paying for it, but the folks at Ivory and Ink had passed the hat around, and Latoya took responsibility for arranging the memorial.
One of the deputies had spoken with a neighbour, and before Marielle left town, she’d dropped by to return some bakeware. When the neighbour invited her in for coffee, she’d declined because she had to get home to meet Rayna. Apparently, Rayna had an apology to make. Marielle didn’t elaborate on the reason for the apology, and we all knew Rayna wasn’t the type to apologise, ever, so the cops figured that somehow the rolling pin had joined the conversation, followed by the spade.
“I need to stay sober for a couple more hours,” I told Chase. “Breaking an ankle would be a shitty end to the evening. Why do these shoes have to be so high?”
“Because you’re short,” Jez reminded me.
“Gee, thanks, I’d forgotten. I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Just pretend it’s a board meeting,” Jay said from behind me. “You slay in those. Quite literally, sometimes. People are terrified.”
I wanted to sag in relief because he’d made it, and he hadn’t been sure he would after his flight from Denver got delayed. When I was younger, I’d grown so used to being alone, to only having myself to trust, that having a support network felt strange and even uncomfortable at times. But tonight, people had shown up to support me in a way my parents never did, and for that, I was so freaking grateful.
“You’re late.”
I hopped off the stool, and he pulled me into a fierce hug.
“And you’ve got this.”
“Have the guests started arriving yet? Like, regular guests, not partners in crime?”
“I think the hockey player just rolled up. A horde of women mobbed him as soon as he climbed out of his truck.”
Erin groaned. “I’d better go rescue him. Oh, wait a second…” She paused to snag a flute of champagne off the tray as she passed, drained it, and put the glass on the counter. “That’s better.”
Once my hair was finished, Nolan fastened a diamond necklace that matched my earrings around my neck. The set had actually been a gift from Jay—he’d said I needed something frivolous after Astela reached a billion in revenue for the first time. We’d since passed that benchmark many times over, and I joked that he owed me a jewellery store now, but he just shrugged and said, “Darling, you have one neck and two ears, and you never wear the diamonds anyway.”
Well, tonight I was wearing them, ready for the charade to start and even more ready for it to be over with. Nolan looked as nervous as I felt, but he’d have Jay, Cole, Rusty, and Zach backing him up like the four horsemen of the apocalypse, if the four horsemen wore tuxedos and represented charm, hotness, money, and cologne instead of conquest, war, famine, and death.
Ari poked her head around the door. “They just arrived.”
Our carefully choreographed plan swung into action. This finessed version called for each of our horsemen to work their way around the room, and when the time was right, introduce themselves to the Cranstons. They’d subtly make sure Antonella and Everett knew that (a) they were obscenely fucking rich, and (b) each of them was a new investor in Dionysus. If Nolan had brought in outside investors, he wouldn’t need to sell any land, would he? Our original plan had called for me to bear the brunt of the financing—which, in reality, I would be doing—but Jez was worried that Antonella might try to do something really, really stupid. Like, say, trying to run me down with a horse, a scenario that seemed all the more plausible after the incident with Point Team India and Gabriela’s purchaser.
Anyhow, now we had four separate investors, each residing in a different location. Antonella might take out one, but she’d never get all of them, so she’d be dumb to even try. And she might have been many things, but she wasn’t stupid. I took great delight in watching her throughout the evening. The tips of her ears turned red when she got annoyed, a dead giveaway, especially when she was sporting a five-hundred-dollar updo.
Nolan’s palm sweated against mine, but finally, it was our turn.
“Antonella, how lovely to see you again.” I grimaced inside as I did the European kiss-kiss thing.
“Likewise. You look great—is the dress an Ishmael creation?”
“I believe it is.”
“From his new collection?”
“My stylist picked it out,” I said as if that explained everything. Collections weren’t high on the list of priorities for a woman who lived in yoga pants and tennis shoes and sweaters that definitely didn’t show off my boobs or the lack of them. “Oh, your drink’s nearly empty.”
I snapped my fingers, and Chase smoothly waved to a waiter, who hurried over with a bottle. Antonella watched Chase with undisguised curiosity, precisely as we’d intended.
“Chase is part of my security team,” I explained. “I’m sure you heard about the fire?”
