“What?” That bastard! Actually, make thatbastards! “Claw it back.”
“That’s just a bandage solution. He’s creating operational issues. Darren is claiming Roderick needs to be paid for the ‘work’ he’s done,” Karen says.
“I’m going to get rid of Roderick permanently soon.” I don’t say more. I don’t want to jinx anything. Look how things with Preston turned out, and I only told seven people about him.
Although Karen is loyal, I want to be extra careful.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says.
He’ll be gone before the next shareholders’ meeting,I vow to myself.
We discuss some of the labor shortage issues in some of our stores in the bigger European cities. Karen says she’s coordinating with the local teams to sort them out. If they can be resolved in the next two weeks, it won’t be a big deal. If it takes longer, we’ll need a contingency plan.
After the meeting, I wrap up a few urgent items on my agenda and shut down my laptop. Have to hurry to make my flight.
As I walk through the lobby and into my waiting Cullinan in front of our headquarters, I have the feeling that something is missing…but can’t put my finger on what. I have everything, including an overnight bag that Matthias packed and sent to my office after lunch.
As the car glides smoothly through the L.A. traffic, it hits me.That Stalker wasn’t around when I came out of the building.Normally, he’s always hovering, ready to follow me everywhere, even when I change my schedule abruptly. But not today.
And the other paparazzi weren’t around, either. The tension in my shoulders dissipates, and I let out a soft sigh as my whole body relaxes. It’s nice to know that I can move at least somewhat freely, without somebody watching all the time, ready to capture an innocent moment and turn it into an opportunity to judge me.
Still, when I arrive at the airport, I don my armor—spine straight, shoulders pushed back and head held high, with a cool expression that says nothing can touch me. But there’s no sign of the paparazzi anywhere. And it’s the same when I land in San Francisco and my hired car takes me to the hotel near city hall.
Weird… But I’m not going to complain about the reprieve. Maybe the universe feels sorry for the current outlandish scandal and is proffering an olive branch.
Well, universe, I hope you keep on being nice to me, because you have a lot to make up for.Over a decade’s worth of sheer crap.
I check into my suite, shower and change into an ivory dress with a modest bateau neckline. It’s made of silk and lace with little pearls sewn in. It fits me like a glove until it flares out below my hips, with layers of lace and chiffon adding volume. It’s long enough that it hides the matching stilettos I’m wearing. Although it’s an arranged marriage that my husband-to-be doesn’t want and there won’t be a photographer or anything special, I want to look pretty. I put on some makeup, braid a portion of my hair, then twist everything into a nice updo. A few flower-and-butterfly pins made with lavender alexandrite in my hair add the final touch.
Pretty enough,I decide as I study my reflection in the full-length mirror, then scan the opulent suite, which is as silent as a tomb. Mom and I stayed in this same hotel, although not this particular suite. What would she say if she knew what I was doing? Would she tell me to be kinder to Roderick? He was everything to her, only because he somehow conned her into believing he was the only one who could give her the kind of love she sought.
I wish Bianca were here.She’d give me a pep talk and cheer me up. But she has a more pressing issue, and I don’t want to be selfish. I make a mental note to send her aunt some flowers.
On my way out, I instruct the concierge to overnight my suitcase to my place in L.A. and check out so I can head to the city hall.
The structure is enormous—taking up two full city blocks. It’s taller than the U.S. Capitol, with a trace of baroque architecture. The dome reminds me of an old European church, not a modest one you might see in a village of farmers, but one the Vatican spared no expense on. I step inside.
Our ceremony is going to take place on the balcony rather than the rotunda. Jason told me there’s a two-hour window when we can do it.
I walk across the marble floor and up the steps until I reach the balcony, which overlooks the grand staircase. My pulse throbs unevenly, for inexplicable reasons. I’ve been content with the arrangements from the beginning when I approached the Comtoises to hammer them out. At first, I was disappointed that they didn’t want to match me with Sebastian. He was so sweet to me—twice—and if I had to have a fake husband, I wanted one who’d be kind. After all, I’m trying to get rid of the jerks in my life, not just replace them with different jerks.
However, meeting Preston allayed my anxiety because he seemed like perfect husband material—nice looking enough that nobody would doubt I’d fallen in love with him at first sight, and smart enough that he wouldn’t let himself be swayed by Roderick, although I didn’t factor Vonnie into my calculations.
But this marriage with Sebastian? He can’t hide how much he hates me. Although he’s been polite and considerate in public, I have no clue what he’s going to be like in private, when it’s just the two of us sharing the same home. He told me to even the scales back in Paris, and I imagine he will do exactly that with me for messing up his relationship with Gabriella and forcing him into marriage. The only question is how.
I feel shaky, like I’m stepping onto a frozen lake. It’s murky under the ice, and I don’t know how thin that ice is going to be. But it’s too late to stop now. I have to keep on walking.
My stomach lurches, nerves fraying.
Lucienne Elise Brigitte Peery, get a grip.Within the next hour, I’m going to be my own person. Turning back now isn’t an option, no matter how unnerved I am all of a sudden.
Footsteps ring from behind me. I turn and see Jason approaching. He hasn’t changed much since our time in high school and college. He was one of the few guys in school who was actually a little taller than me. A black suit fits his lean frame well, and his rectangular wire-rimmed glasses give him an air of scholarly sophistication. He smiles broadly, his arms spread wide. “Lucie!”
“Jason.” I step toward him with a smile of my own.
His arms wrap around me tightly. I hug him back, closing my eyes with relieved happiness. It’s sogoodto see an openly friendly face. I realize I really needed to feel like somebody was on my side today.
“You look good,” he says finally, pulling back a little, his hands still on my arms.
