Blake needs a date to his enemy's destination wedding. And not just anyone-a professional. The billionaire genius behind 215 Tech doesn't have time to nurture a real relationship. He hires Lucy to be his fake girlfriend, but things become real when...
It's as though he's disassociated, separating himself from the world around him. He was asleep by the time I came back from the rehearsal, and he left the suite early this morning.
I told him about Natalie inviting me to her bachelorette party, and he insisted I tag along. He said he'd be having breakfast with his sister, then running errands. What those errands were, he didn't specify. By the time I left to meet Natalie and her 'girls,' Blake still hadn't returned. Reluctant, I climbed into the limo and joined the group of chatty women.
He's distancing himself from me, and I understand why. He's frustrated. He knows I'm lying to him, but he can't put his finger on what I'm being dishonest about. And I can't tell him.
If Blake discovered what Julian did to me, he wouldn't keep it to himself. Not with how protective he is of the people he cares for. He'd make a scene, possibly involve the police. With Henrietta's confidentiality clause like a noose around my neck, I can't afford that kind of notoriety.
So, I spend the day at a vineyard in Calabasas. I suffer through conversations about the wedding, as well as recent fashion trends and upper-class gossip. I pretend to sip my wine, smiling and adding input when the situation calls for it. And with every passing minute, I die a little more inside.
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When we finally get to the nightclub, everyone but me is well on their way to being drunk. The music is loud, the girls are feeling frisky, and the men are far too insistent for my liking. I stick to the private booth overlooking the dancefloor, nursing a cocktail I watched the bartender make.
Blake: Having fun?
Finally, a sign of life from the man who made me accompany his ex-girlfriend to a club the night before her big day. I pluck my phone from the sticky table, smiling down at it as I type a response.
Lucy: I'd rather be with you.
Blake: Soon, Red.
"Is that Blake?"
I glance up, setting my phone aside as Natalie slides into the half circle booth. Her sequin top sticks to her sweaty skin, the perspiration evidence of how long she's been dancing. We've been here for hours.
"You were looking at your phone a certain way," she tells me, knocking back the remainder of her drink.
"What way is that?" I ask.
She smiles, her expression carefree and wistful. "It's the same look I get when I haven't seen Julian all day, and his name pops up on my screen."
The man she's so fond of put me in the hospital for a week. Julian fractured my eye socket, dislocated my jaw, and bruised my trachea. Although, none of those things are what nearly killed me. When the idiot spiked my drink, he didn't get the dose correct. They had to restart my heart in the ambulance. A nurse said I was lucky to have survived, given the level of rohypnol in my blood.
