“What about that blond wig-scarf and your big sunglasses? The ones you’re wearing in your headshots.”
I looked at her sideways, wondering what she could possibly want with them. “They’re in the box with the books.”
She unbuckled her seat belt, climbed into the back, and reached over the third-row bench seat to rifle through the box. She popped up behind me, holding the wig-scarf and glasses.
“Put these on,” she told me. “And try to look more bougie than you actually are.” She dumped the accessories into my lap, shaking her head at my jeans and sneakers, making me feel like I had missed a wardrobe memo. She turned to Javi and Ramón next. “You two, look menacing and follow me.” She hopped out the sliding door with one of my romantic suspense novels under her arm.
“Do you have any idea what she’s up to?” Ramón asked me.
“Not at all.” I scrambled out after her, tying on my scarf and smoothing down the tangled blond locks as Vero led the three of us into the building and through the lobby.
Javi reached an arm into an elevator as the doors began to slide shut. He held them open while we all squeezed inside. It was full of men in blazers and women in dress suits. They inched tightly together, silently making room for our entourage as they stared atJavi’s bruises and tattoos, Vero’s ankle monitor, and the muscles visible through Ramón’s tight black T-shirt. I smiled awkwardly at the ogling passengers as Vero pressed the button for the fifth floor. A woman in a pantsuit yelped, nearly leaping out of her red-soled heels, when Javi got impatient and punched the button to close the doors.
“Do you even have a plan?” I whispered to Vero when the car began its ascent.
“Of course I have a plan,” she whispered back.
When the doors opened on the fifth floor, Vero led the way toward a wall of frosted glass.DINWIDDIE & STRAUSSwas etched in its surface. The receptionist’s smile faltered as we approached her desk. She reached for her phone. Vero took the receiver from her hand and set it firmly back in its cradle. “We’re here to see Bennett Taylor. Where can we find him?”
“Do you have an appointment?” the young woman asked, eyeing Javi and Ramón.
Vero smacked the desk, demanding the woman’s attention. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? Are younota representative of a public relations firm?” The woman jumped when Vero slammed my paperback novel down in front of her and flipped it open to the inside flap. “This,” Vero said, jabbing my headshot, “is the world-famous author Fiona Donahue.” She gestured to me with a sweep of her arm. “Ms. Donahue is the next Colleen Hoover. The next Nora Roberts. If Gillian Flynn and E. L. James made an author-baby together, this woman would be the fruit of their creative loins.” Vero snatched back the book before the woman could get a good look at the cover and realize she had probably only ever seen it in a bargain bin in front of a thrift shop. “Iam her accountant,” Vero said, “these gentlemen behind me are Ms. Donahue’s personal security detail, andwe,” she said, circling the air with a finger, “would like to see Mr. Bennett Taylor. Right now.”
The woman’s eyes darted to the frosted door beside her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather meet with one of the principals? I could see if Mr. Dinwiddie is available to—”
“Never mind, I’ll find Mr. Taylor myself.” Vero hauled open the door, dragging me through it, ignoring the woman’s protests as Javi and Ramón followed us down a brightly lit corridor with glass-framed offices on both sides. I nearly tripped over my sneakers as I hurried to keep up.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a frantic, low voice.
“Looking for Bennett. Check the nameplates beside the doors,” she said, peeping into each office we passed.
A head peeked out from behind an island of cubicles as we reached the end of the hall.
“Found him,” Vero said, making a beeline toward them. The young man stood up fast, a deep red flush creeping up his neck as he rushed out from behind his cubicle and stood directly in her path.
“Are you trying to get me fired?” he whispered, darting anxious glances into the offices around us. He reached for Vero’s arm, as if he’d like nothing more than to escort her out of the office himself.
Javi grabbed a fistful of the man’s necktie. “I’d think twice about touching her if I were you.”
Bennett put up his hands, and Javi released him with a shove. Bennett cleared his throat, smiling awkwardly at the faces of his colleagues as they peeped at us over the tops of their partitions. He smoothed down his rumpled shirt, lowering his voice until it was barely more than a whisper. “Can we please move this conversation somewhere a little more private?” When Vero didn’t object, he directed us across the hall to an empty conference room. As soon as we were all inside, he closed the door.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Vero through his teeth.“You can’t just show up at my work! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a foot in the door here? I could lose my job!”
“Wouldn’t that suck?” Vero said. “Imagine your entire future being ripped away from you because someone you thought was a friend accused you of something horrible in front of a bunch of people with the power to ruin your life.” She lifted her foot and yanked up her pant leg, giving him a long look at her ankle monitor. “How is your girlfriend anyway?”
Bennett winced. “Mia’s not my girlfriend anymore. She’s my fiancée. We’re getting married in August.”
“Send her my heartfelt congratulations,” Vero said drily.
“I’d rather not. She’s been through enough.”
“She’sbeen through enough?”
Bennett gestured for Vero to lower her voice. “That missing money nearly cost Mia her degree! It’s bad enough she lost her standing in Kappa Gamma over the whole thing, but you have no idea what she went through after you disappeared. Mia wasn’t just the president of the sorority, she was the face of it. She had to endure the accusations and judgment of the Panhellenic Council, the university administration, the police, and the pissed-off parents of some idiot pledge who lost all his freaking tuition money at those poker nights. They were all holding her responsible because you were gone!”
“You all were just as responsible for those poker nights as I was.”
“Wedidn’t run off with the money.”
