In Sickness and in Wealth (2 page)

I wanted him to want me. I wanted him to love me. Not because of any sense of obligation. Or because I was the mother of the heir to his billion-dollar Flashionista empire. I wanted him to fall in love with me. And I was running out of time. How could I balance all these plates of secrets I was suddenly spinning? Fool the world. Fool Jus. Maybe I was simply fooling myself.

Obviously, I couldn't keep the pregnancy a secret from him forever. There was a point when he would probably notice. Ha! But it was reasonable for a girl to wait to tell anyone until she was pretty sure the pregnancy would stick, right? And, okay, I was letting myself talk myself into things and deluding myself. That several-month deal was probably for back in the old days when you had to miss two or three periods and kill a rabbit before you could be certain you were pregnant. But what would it hurt to sit on this and see what happened before I, maybe unnecessarily, upset our delicate, budding relationship?

My phone buzzed in my hand. A text from Jus. A link to a YouTube video. When I clicked on it, it linked to Patrizio Buanne singing "
Luna Mezza Mare
."

J
ustin

I had a ridiculous smile on my face. The kind of smile a guy should have on his wedding day. The never-ending, brilliant beam of a groom as he stares at his bride at the altar and thinks,
How the hell did I get so lucky?
How did I win that beautiful girl?

Slowly, one small step at a time, I was conquering Kay's heart. Maybe more in the manner of a court jester than a dashing knight. But the style and means didn't matter. Only the end. It was like the old adage of boiling a frog—you turn up the heat so gradually, the frog doesn't realize it's being boiled until it's too late to jump out of the pot.

I was turning up the heat, the passion, and the emotion until it boiled over and Kay was mine. And damn if I'd stop until I won. Kay was the girl for me. I was the guy for her. By the time our year together was up, she'd have no thought of leaving. We'd tear up that crazy postnup, laughing that we ever entertained the idea of divorcing. In the eyes of the law, from what it knew, in the eyes of everyone, we would be man and wife. Most importantly, in our own minds.

I was still mulling the legal crap, ramifications, and logistics over. We weren't genuinely married. And yet, for all the authorities knew, we were. We couldn't just slip into the courthouse and ask for a new marriage license. We could always renew our vows, but that wasn't the same thing as a new legal wedding, complete with license.

What about another country? I had every intention of making Italy special enough that Kay would be sentimental about it. Kay had always dreamed of a big, beautiful wedding. On our one-year, rather than divorcing, what if we "renewed" our vows in Italy, complete with an Italian marriage license? Or wherever she wanted to go. Flew friends and family in. Had one of those weddings billionaires are supposed to have.

Alone in my hotel room, I drummed my fingers on the dark wooden desk. Italy would be my coup de grace to any thought that we weren't really man and wife. I was going to win Kay's heart once and for all. Put all thoughts of any other guy, including Lazer, so far from her mind it would be like they'd never existed in the first place.

I was going to treat her like no other guy could. Spoil her. Make her laugh. Sing to her. Court her. And tell her I loved her.

I swallowed hard at the thought.
Tell her I love her
. Why was it so damn hard to do? If I blew it, there would still be ten more awkward months of marriage and rejection to go.

Kay didn't understand why I celebrated our weekly anniversaries for the first month, and now intended to celebrate our monthly ones, the mensiversary, if you were a stickler about terms. Every week was a victory, a step closer to the ID thief having no control over us. Two days before our two-month, sixty days would be over. Another milestone down. Another pile of digital video surveillance overwritten. My reputation and Flash that much safer. Just one more milestone after that.

Our little thieving ID stealer had been silent for almost a month. I should have been happy. I would have. If I'd seriously believed she'd given up. Fat chance of that. Too much money was at stake for her. Obviously someone who steals other people's identities and credit cards for a living would have to be greedy by nature. Pass up the gig of a lifetime? Why would she?

Dex and I had worked through several nights fine-tuning our software until it was a lean, mean recognition machine. It had generated a bunch of false positives. Women who looked kind of, sort of similar. But not her.

We needed more pictures, more data points. The software wasn't searching for a face the way a human would. It wasn't looking for a woman in a blond wig with red lipstick that looked a bit like Kay. It was looking for distinct facial characteristics that were unchangeable. At least without plastic surgery. Exactly how far apart the eyes were. How large they were. The exact shape. The length of the nose. The width of the mouth.

In some ways, it was better than a human. A human could be fooled by a dye job, a haircut or new style, or the tricks of makeup. But not our algorithms. The problem was, our little ID thief was camera shy. She didn't want to be caught. I might have been giving her too much credit, but she seemed to know enough not to turn full face to the camera.

We needed more facial data points, pure and simple. We needed a full-on facial shot so we could measure the metrics. In the meantime, our software turned up too many possible matches that went nowhere. Too many false leads. Too many girls who weren't the girl we were tracking. And even a few drag queens.

If I could draw a picture out of that bitch…

We tried to entice her out of hiding and into making a mistake. I spent too many evenings and afternoons hanging out in the bar in Reno during several "business" trips. I was going to Reno so often I was making the Reno site manager nervous.

In the hotel, I kept a high profile, hoping the con artist I'd shared a marriage ceremony with would approach me. I gambled and won enough cash to be a good mark. Let it spill out of my wallet, dangling as bait. Pretended to be drunk and susceptible again.

Nothing.

And then one evening, the photographer showed up. At least, I assumed it was him. It could have been someone either he or she paid to approach me.

I was having a beer at the bar after a long day at our distribution center when a guy in his thirties pulled up a stool next to me, too casually for it to have been accidental.

"Hey, aren't you that billionaire guy who owns Flashionista?"

I'd nodded, suddenly on alert.

"Your distribution center has brought a lot of good jobs to the area."

I studied him and nodded again. Did he think I needed my back patted?

"Got married recently, didn't you?" He was trying too hard to sound affable. "Saw something about it on the news." His eyes picked up an evil glint. "Saw something about another girl you were seeing on your wedding night. Quite the player."

He was either a douchebag or he wanted something. I turned away from him, heart racing.
Play it cool
.

"Seems like a guy in your position would pay a lot to get rid of any more pictures like the one I saw. Anything that would piss off the new wifey."

I took another sip of my beer, resisting the urge to knock him off his stool onto the beer-stained floor.

"Some other guy might." I fought to keep my tone even. "Not me. I don't have anything to hide. And even if I had, my wife is
exceptionally
understanding."

I'd been bullied too often to rise to his bait.

From the way he sat silently stewing, it was clear mine wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. I was on delicate ground. I wanted a lead, something that would give me a leg up on my adversary. But I couldn't give myself, or any weakness, away.

"Lucky guy," he said. "How about your investors and business partners?"

"They don't believe gossip," I said, evenly. "They believe me. Why shouldn't they? I always deliver on my promises."

I turned to look him in the eye. I couldn't resist giving him an unfriendly warning. "I don't take shit from anyone. And I don't fight fair."

It would have seemed like a non sequitur to an innocent guy. This guy took it at face value.

I had a bodyguard nearby. My PI had two guys running surveillance, hoping for something like this. I downed my beer and got up to leave. I was done with this douche. Let my team handle him.

As I walked out of the bar, my PI's guys followed Mr. Chatty. It was a dead end, again. For now. But Dex and I and my security team were getting everything we could on him. We'd break her operation and take her down. I just had to be patient.

The ID thief was playing things foolishly slowly. Didn't she realize that time was on
my
side? And I was about to strike.

My thoughts turned back to Kay. She'd seemed distracted and eager to get off the phone. I twisted my mouth to the side. I was worrying over nothing. Fake open marriages! Like I would tolerate that arrangement for long.

I smiled again at all the surprises I had in store for her in Italy. I was going to sweep her off her feet. Nothing was going to destroy this marriage.
Nothing
.

K
ayla

Sophia was out of the hospital—temporarily, anyway. I'd promised her that when she got out, I would bring Data over to play with her. She was obsessed with dogs and puppies. Jus and I would have given her one, but caring for an animal on top of a sick child was more than Vicki could handle. After my call with Jus, I brushed Data and dressed her in a collar that matched my outfit, and headed south of town to Des Moines with Data to fulfill my promise.

Vicki and Sophia lived in an old, worn two-bedroom house so small it bordered on the new craze of tiny houses, sitting in the middle of a less than prosperous working-class neighborhood. It needed painting. And the lawn, like those of its neighbors, was brown from the recent heat spell. Most Seattleites didn't water. I felt guilty, and conspicuous, driving Justin's BMW, feeling the eyes of the neighbors on me.

I brought lunch for all of us, a picnic in the backyard, including special doggy treats for Data. Sophia had been watching for us through the window. If she'd been a normally healthy child, she would have bounded out to greet us. But her heart condition slowed her down, sapped her energy, and made her lethargic. She watched with eager eyes as Vicki answered the door and let us in.

Data warmed to her immediately. They were soon playing happily on the dry grass of the backyard while Vicki and I chatted and watched from the shade. The only saving grace of the place was the fenced backyard and the view of the very tops of the Olympic Mountains.

Data was as intuitive as her master. Even though she was still an energetic puppy, she played gently and patiently with Sophia, barking whiles he waited for her to catch up to her.

Vicki watched, protective and happy. "Look how happy she is! I would get her a dog, but…"

"If you ever decide you want one, Jus would gladly get her one." I took a sip of the bottle of lemonade I'd brought.

Vicki slid me a sideways glance and subtly raised one eyebrow. "You talk like the money is all his."

I laughed, nervous that I'd slipped up. I often forgot to regard Jus and I as "we." "Well, it is his. He earned it. I'm just on an allowance."

I sounded like a pampered princess. But I was actually an employee allowed petty cash, if you got right down to it. I had no claim on his money, other than what I was earning. But she couldn't know that. This was going wrong.

I changed the subject. "Sophia looks much better than when I last saw her in the hospital."

Vicki nodded. "Sometimes it's hard to believe, but she still needs a heart."

My heart broke a little for her. What could I offer her? Platitudes? Empty promises?

"I'm sorry. Jus and I both keep hoping for her." I paused. "It has to be hard raising her on your own."

I was selfishly thinking of my pregnancy. I wanted some words of encouragement from Vicki. Some advice. Some wisdom. Something to help me decide what to do. And, of course, I couldn't ask directly.

"Not so hard, because I love her." She stared at her daughter, with a half-smile playing at her lips and a look of absolute love shining in her eyes. "I wouldn't trade it away for anything."

I felt a stab of guilt.

She got a faraway look in her eyes. "I only have one regret—I never told her dad about her."

I tried not to let my surprise show. I guess it had been a natural assumption that the father had simply split and bailed on his responsibilities. "It's never too late, is it?"

Vicki took a deep breath. "He's dead. He died before I could tell him. Motorcycle crash."

"I'm sorry."

Her expression hardened. "Don't be. He wasn't the love of my life. He wasn't a great guy. He probably would have been a crappy dad. I wasn't going to stay with him. I just think it's too bad he died not knowing what a great kid he was going to have. That he was leaving a legacy behind."

She sighed. "If he'd known, he may have deserted her, us. He probably would have, knowing him. He wasn't the type to be tied down. But he had a right to know and make his own choice."

Vicki sure knew how to unintentionally twist the stiletto.

I felt suddenly cold and clammy, nauseated.

Vicki looked at me with concern. "You're pale. Are you okay?"

I forced a smile and lied. "I'm fine. Just, you know, that time of the month when the hormones go crazy and throw my internal thermostat off."

She smiled at me. "I know that feeling. Sucks being a girl sometimes."

Sophia laughed as Data licked her face. Vicki's smile became full-blown sunshine. "And sometimes it's the best thing ever. Wait until you have kids."

Oh, yeah. I couldn't wait.

"Look, Mommy, look!" Sophia tossed a small ball for Data to fetch.

Vicki clapped and waved to her and turned to me. "When will Justin be back?"

"Next week. Just in time for us to fly to Italy together." Italy. I was suddenly dreading it. Maybe Vicki was right. Jus had a right to know he was going to be a daddy.

I tried to picture telling him. Tried to imagine his reaction. I glanced at Sophia. Jus loved children. And had a knack with them. But was he ready for one of his own?

A cold fear crept over me.
He loves kids.
How much? Enough to take one away from me when we divorced? He had the money and resources. Way more than I did. Deep down I knew I would never abandon my baby. I loved children, too, and had always dreamed of having them.

But not like this. More like when I had real husband, a satisfying career, and was living in my own house. When it was planned and I was ready. When life was more settled.

I certainly never imagined having one with Jus. With Jus. Could I really leave the father of my baby? I felt suddenly suffocated and trapped. And at the same time, excited at the thought of staying with Jus.

I should tell him. But this wasn't your ordinary situation. He could toss me out. Say I'd broken the terms of our agreement. I couldn't remember if there was a clause in the postnup for an accidental pregnancy. Probably not, given the no-sex-expected clause I'd insisted on.