For Richer, for Richest (6 page)

I shook my head. "The postnup is ironclad. One year or no payout. Unless I change
my
mind."

"When hell freezes over, right?"

"You got that right." I took a long pull of beer and tapped the computer screen. "I have other reasons for delaying things."

"You mean the 30-60-90 windows for storing surveillance video until they overwrite?"

That was the thing about talking to Dex—he caught on quickly. I never needed to explain things to him. I nodded. "If the wedding chapel has pictures of the wedding on their security feeds…"

I felt the anger burbling up and took a deep breath to calm down. "I'm stalling. It's only been fifteen days. I need at least fifteen more. Then I'm going to bury her."

"I don't suppose you noticed the cameras? Things like were there any, were they obviously working, how ancient were they, that kind of thing?" Dex gave me a look that wasn't hopeful.

"My man in Reno has investigated. The wedding chapel has cameras in the lobby, none in the actual chapel. All the cameras are old-school videotape that's overwritten on a thirty-day cycle. We can't hack them. Believe me, I've fantasized about it."

Dex frowned. "Too damn bad. You must have been totally shitfaced to confuse that chick for Lala. My cousin is hot. This girl"—he pointed at my computer—"eh."

"Yeah." I still hadn't remembered more than snatches from that night. "What can I say? Alcohol goggles." I stared at the screen with him. "You've seen
The Hangover
. All the crazy shit that can happen when you're drunk and high. How you can completely forget it all. I'm convinced she drugged me."

Dex grunted. "
The Hangover
is a comedy."

"So is this—a black comedy."

Dex grinned. "It's a good thing I'm an old softie. And you're better than any guy Lala would pick on her own. I don't half mind being related to you by fake marriage and prankery. In the interests of my family, and my personal code of ethics and friendship, I'm honor-bound to help you."

He laughed. "This is going to be fun. First things first"—he pointed at my screen—"that picture is a piece of crap as far as using our software. We might be able to make do. If we have to. You've approached the guy who shot that? He could have more. Better shots. You'll have to pay, of course."

"I have another picture. A better picture," I said. "Kay doesn't know about it. This is just between us. Between the two shots, our software will have a better chance of finding her." I brought up the second picture.

Dex whistled softly, impressed.

"I've been running the second picture for about a week. No hits. The woman's good." I leaned back in my desk chair and downed a good portion of my beer, reveling in the relaxing buzz. I'd been too stressed lately. "What I didn't bring up is that there's a huge risk that the photographer's in on this scam, too. That I was set up. This is the ID thief's way of extorting more cash and skirting the law, staying anonymous and just inside the bounds. Presumably, if she's the one who directed the sale of this picture, it's a subtle threat without a paper trail. She's expecting me to pay big for the rest."

"That would be cunning of her." Dex casually leaned forward and studied her pictures onscreen. "That would be exceptionally cunning of her. I could almost admire her guts and style."

I nodded. "If it weren't being used to con me. The thing is, she can't have known who I was from the beginning or she would have married me under her real name. She, and her partner, if she has one, are working on the fly now. They'll screw up somewhere, if they haven't already."

"Are you going to bite and make an offer on some photos?" Dex's gaze was intelligent and piercing. He obviously had an opinion. This was like a test.

"I can't in under any circumstance, ever, admit I didn't marry the real Kayla. The whole house of cards falls apart if I do. I can't even hint at it."

Dex leaned forward. "So the answer is no?"

I didn't bother answering. It was a rhetorical question.

"If you're right, and she's behind it, you're taking a chance she'll escalate," Dex said.

"If she had something concrete, she would have come straight at me with it." I finished my beer, craving another.

"You could send a representative. Someone you trust who could front a plausible story." He raised an eyebrow and pointed at himself. "I could go as myself, Lala's cousin and your friend. I would claim she's embarrassed by them and furious and wants them out of circulation. That she's willing to pay."

I shook my head. "You obviously haven't been under the media's microscope. If it gets out Kay or I am willing to pay for such benign pictures, we'll have targets on our back. There will be photographers jumping out at us from everywhere."

Dex nodded, deep in thought. "You're right. You're taking a calculated risk. The problem for blackmailers is simple—if they make good on their threats and release what they have on you, they've lost their cash cow."

I nodded.

"What are you going to do?" Dex said.

"We have to find her and stop her. And stall as long as we can. Fifteen more days and she won't be able to prove she was the one I married. Sixty to ninety and she won't have any hotel video to use against me. As in, billionaire breaking vows on wedding night."

Dex shook his head. "When you fuck up, you really fuck up." He sounded impressed.

I shot him a dark look. "Got any good ideas?"

Dex pursed his lips and broke into a grin. "A few."

K
ayla

When we "got married," Jus had promised that he travelled most of the time. I would hardly feel married because he would be gone so often. I didn't know if he'd stayed in town on purpose the first two weeks of our married life. Or whether life and circumstances just lined up that way. But he made good on his promise the Monday after I had lunch with Britt celebrating her job offer from Flash. On Sunday afternoon, he announced he was flying out early the next morning on business to a bunch of locations. He'd arranged for Ophie to email me his itinerary and update me with any changes. Which were likely. Business meetings were rearranged, cancelled, or postponed all the time. Especially among the powerful.

Great. Just what I needed. Ophie more in the know about what Jus was up to than I was. Knowledge was power. And in this case, I
really
hated relinquishing it. To Ophie, of all people. Unfortunately, I couldn't see any way around it. Ophie had been perfectly pleasant to me. But I didn't trust her as a matter of the basic principles of love, war, and marriage. It wasn't rocket science—never trust a woman who wants your husband.

"I'll be back for the Fourth of July." Jus zipped his suitcase closed and looked around for his phone charger, distracted by packing.

"You'd better be. It's nearly two weeks away!" I watched him throw more chargers and accessories in his leather computer bag. "And a Friday night. I need a date."

Jus grinned at me, pleased by my outburst. "I'll hurry back as soon as I can."

I should have been relieved he was going. I needed time to think and sort out my feelings. When Jus was around things were complicated, to say the least. My heart didn't know what it was doing. And couldn't make up its mind about how it felt about him. Crazy, but I was already missing him. And he wasn't even gone yet.

I had a sudden inspiration. "We should throw a party for the Fourth here at the penthouse!"

My friends would love it. It would give me a chance to show off and really sell this marriage to them again. Happy domestic life as the billionaire's wife! Wasn't that sweet?

When again would I have a 360 view of the firework displays across the entire region—Seattle, Issaquah, south to Renton, and beyond. Not to mention we weren't more than a thousand yards or so away from the Bellevue show. More than half the time, it rained in Seattle on the Fourth. We joked that summer never started around here until July fifth. Having a warm, comfortable place and plenty of expensive booze was an added bonus enticement.

Jus shook his head. "Riggins always hosts a Fourth of July bash on his yacht. We boat around the sound all afternoon, eating and drinking. Then we park and watch the fireworks over Elliott Bay. With more eating and drinking. Attendance is mandatory. I've already accepted his invitation."

Did my face fall? It must have.

Jus pulled me into a hug. "Maybe next year we can coordinate with Riggins."

"Next year we'll be divorced." The words popped out of my mouth before I thought about them. They sounded harsh and hard-edged. And almost petulant.

Jus cleared his throat and looked away, embarrassed. "Yeah."

I sighed. As far as holidays, it was one and done around here. I had to make every holiday fabulous and full of memories before I left. Make the most out of this billionaire lifestyle. Although getting used to it probably wasn't the best idea.

Jus took the car service to the airport the next day. I got up and saw him off at the door with a kiss that was more than perfunctory on my part.

And I was on my own for two solitary weeks. So I thought. As it turned out, I had no time to grow bored. My days were completely booked. Compliments of my savvy personal assistant, Andrea. Meetings with the hospital's charitable board. Meetings at Flash with the buyers, arranging and organizing the samples that would be available for sale. Coordinating volunteer signups for the sale. Meetings with donors and caterers. Florists. Friends. Shopping.

Magda and I grew closer. Maybe it wasn't good to get too friendly with the help. But I couldn't resist. When I got her going, she talked about Jus, always glowing about what a considerate employer he was. How he'd given her a large bonus when she needed help with her daughter's medical bills after a motorcycle accident. Really, did Jus have any faults?

More and more I felt like I was in a modern retelling of
Pride and Prejudice
. Where Lizzie finds out the true, caring character of Mr. Darcy. Why, he wasn't proud at all! Only in my case it was more like
Geek and Great Guy
. Everywhere I turned, people loved and admired Jus.

The part-time maid came and went, tidying up after me. But she rarely spoke. I never got to know her.

Even through all the busyness, I missed Jus. And so did poor little Data. She moped around and looked expectantly toward the door every time someone came or went.

On Monday night, I replaced Jus in bed with his pillow, curling up next to it as I lay awake in bed. How could I have gotten so used to his presence in just a few weeks? Outside my door, Data whimpered and cried, refusing to sleep. I relented and took her into bed with me, letting her sleep curled at the foot of the bed. It was a dangerous precedent to set, but without it, neither of us was going to get any sleep.

Concerned, the next day I asked Magda about it. "What does Jus usually do with Data when he's gone? Is he aware she cries all night?"

"Mr. Justin hasn't had Data long," she told me. "When he's gone at night, I take her home with me."

So there it was. Mystery solved. I was relieved. I didn't like the thought of Data all alone and crying, during the day or during the night. And so I indulged myself in carrying out the threat I'd made when I first met Data—I bought a dog purse. Because, yes, rich people must carry their dogs around in purses or they break the stereotype. And besides, it was a simple kind of evil fun to imagine Justin's response when he got home.

I mentioned, partly in jest, the struggles of trying to find a doggy purse that coordinated with my outfits to Marla on one of my visits to Flash.

"A doggy and me event!" Marla gave me a thumbs-up. "That's brilliant! We'll see what we can do."

Two days later, Marla called and asked me to bring Data in for photo shoot for one of Flash's upcoming events featuring fashion accessories for pets. For my trouble, I walked away with several rhinestone collars and leashes for Data. Jus was so going to kill me over the chickification of his dog.

Justin's schedule was so crazy that we rarely had time to talk, and our texts were infrequent. When we did talk, he was all in. The excited sound of his voice on the phone made me smile. "How's Data? Does she miss me?"

"She's fine!" I resisted a snigger. I wanted him to be totally surprised when he got home. "We're getting along great."

"Oh, no. What have you done to my dog?" He sounded way too suspicious. "You haven't put her in a purse. Kay, tell me you haven't put her in a purse!"

I laughed and sidestepped the question. "I've decided to take you up on your offer and add a few personal touches to the penthouse and closet. What's my budget?"

It was weird. But with Jus away, I suddenly had the urge to leave my fingerprints on his life. Call it vanity. Call it wanting to sell the marriage—anyone who knew me would expect me to make changes to Justin's place. You could even call it optimism.

Jus preloaded a credit card for my use. It must be said, as shallow as it sounds, that using that card was thrilling. As I spent, I wondered if Jus would like what I was buying.

I visited Sophia and Vicki. In an attempt to win their favor after stealing Jus away, I brought them matching mother-daughter sundresses and headbands. And asked them to be models in the fashion show I was planning as part of the sample sale. It was my idea to dress up models in outfits comprised of samples as inspiration for the shoppers. And have buyers on hand to help shoppers if they needed help. I even showed them a picture of Data in her carrying purse.

"I want a doggy like that one," Sophia told Vicki. "So I can carry it around in my purse."

The next time I went to see her, I brought her a toy stuffed Pomsky in a purse.

Everywhere I went, it seemed, even the hospital, I bumped into Lazer. It was like a huge cosmic joke—
See what you could have had, Kayla
.
If only you hadn't jumped at ten million.
Fate seemed to be shoving us in each other's faces. And laughing at us.

About the tenth time it happened—in the pet store, of all places; I was buying special new doggy treats for Data, Lazer needed more fish food and a new filter for his aquarium—he said, "I must be unintentionally stalking you."

"Unintentionally?"

"Subliminally? Is that a thing?" The sexy look in his eyes would stop the hardest heart.

"Maybe I'm subliminally stalking
you
?" I couldn't keep the flirt out of my voice and body language.

He laughed. "I'd like to think so." He was so smooth. "We meet too often for mere coincidence."

Lazer was fun to flirt with. Hot to look at. Charming. And out of my reach. We got along so well it was scary. I couldn't get past the feeling that on another lifeline, in an alternate universe, he and I could have been extremely happy together. If only there hadn't been a Jus. But no Jus, no way I would have met Lazer. It was a Catch-22 situation of the highest order. Every time I got myself together and got close to getting myself out of the warring emotions I was in, fate upped the number of bombing runs. And threw me into confusion again by throwing me in Lazer's path.

When Jus left on the twenty-sixth, Seattle was its normal, pleasant, slightly cool, sometimes summery, showery self. On the twenty-seventh, the jet stream changed course, and Seattle began to bake. Record heat stretched day after day as the mercury climbed. Buns became the most popular women's hairstyle in the city. And Costco couldn't keep fans or air conditioners in stock.

The thing people have to understand about Seattle is that it is tied with San Francisco as the least air-conditioned city in the country. Fewer than one in ten people have air conditioning. I had it in the penthouse, of course. But my old apartment? Nope. I would have been sweltering.

Usually Seattle's onshore flow cools it off at night. A persistent high-pressure center had spun our onshore flow out to sea. Tensions flared. And while Seattle baked, I was fiddling like Nero. Enjoying the high life. Enjoying running into Lazer. Or maybe I was simply playing with fire.

After one of my many meetings at Flash, I was supposed to meet Britt downtown for dinner. I'd already arrived at the restaurant when I got Britt's message that she had to cancel. Something about a problem with the paperwork she had to fill out before she could start at Flash. She was running over there to take care of it. But she didn't want to hold me up. Let's reschedule!

I was hungry. I decided to dine alone. Coincidentally, I ran into Lazer again. He was also dining alone. His business client had cancelled on him. Lazer invited me to join him while we laughed about this seeming like another setup. Another us-subliminally-stalking-each-other incident.

Maybe I shouldn't have joined him out in public when Jus was gone. But it seemed rude not to. It was purely innocent, anyway. What could possibly happen in public? We laughed too easily. Drank too much. Put our heads together too closely. And stared too long into each other's eyes.

When I got home, I felt guilty. And lonely. Lazer was fun. But I longed for Jus and his eagerness. And the way he made me laugh.

July second, the day before Jus was due home, I was eager and excited for his return. Magda and I had planned a special meal for him. I'd bought a pair of pasties and a hot little thong number to surprise him with. I wondered, delighted with myself, if he'd fare any better removing the pasties than he had with the chicken cutlets. They wouldn't stick to the mirror, that was for sure. But was there anything more than sex between us? Despite the occasional fun of flirting with Lazer, my feelings for Jus were growing.

But I was a broken vessel. Unwilling to slap my heart out there to be stomped on first again. My disastrous relationship with Eric had really done a number on me. And I still wondered if Jus was my rebound guy. Or were the beginnings of love I was feeling real?

Sometimes I longed for that old crush Jus had had on me in college. But crushes weren't real love. And real love was what I wanted next time around.

Magda had already gone home when I got a text from Lazer. He was in my lobby. This seemed to be a case of intentional stalking. I buzzed him up.

"You must be in a panic," he said as soon as he walked in. He looked so serious I almost laughed.

"Must I?" I frowned and smiled at the same time, totally confused. "Why?"

He pulled a sparkling tennis bracelet out of his pocket. "I was at Flash meeting with Riggins. They said you lost this. I had to bring it right over. I couldn't trust it with anyone else."

The bracelet dangling from his fingers looked very similar to the diamond tennis bracelet Jus had given me. But why did he think it was mine? I held up my wrist for him to see. "That's sweet of you, but I have mine. See?"

He frowned. "Then whose is this?"

I laughed and took it from him, inspecting it. "Hmmm…I don't know. But it's gold plate at best. And I'm guessing these are crystals, not real diamonds. Still, a nice bracelet. Though not hideously expensive. It looks like a sample of something Flash would sell." I grabbed his hand, turned it palm up, and pressed the bracelet back into it.

Our eyes locked. I felt a spark. I was sure he did, too.

"I'll take it back to Flash." He dropped it in his pocket.

"I was just sitting out on the deck, enjoying the evening view. Care to join me?" I probably shouldn't have asked.

"I can stay for a minute or two." He smiled graciously.

"I was thinking of making myself a drink. Can I get you something?" Offering a drink was definitely a no-no. But after the busy day I'd had, I needed something to relax me. And it seemed only polite.