Mending Images With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 4)

by Lorin Grace

  Acquaintances were gathered around Mandy’s chair, expressing congratulations and passing on motherly wisdom. All of them were familiar faces. On the far side of the room, Great-Aunt Josephine and Felicia sat at one of the front tables. They looked in Abbie’s direction. She hoped they didn’t see the resemblance. Felicia waved very properly to one of her friends. Abbie assumed Felicia didn’t see her any more than she did the wait staff refilling coffee cups.

  When the chairwoman stood and called the meeting to order, the few bodyguards in the room took up their posts along the perimeter, close to their various clients. Patrick was leaning against the far wall. This was not going to be easy.

  Daniel, one of the few men in attendance, signaled her as the wait staff started serving the fruit plates. Abbie went to the couple.

  “Baby kicked the wrong place,” whispered Mandy.

  Abbie wheeled Mandy to the closest accessible restroom. After seeing Mandy safely inside, she took up her position outside the room.

  “If it isn’t the virtuous Miss Hastings. I haven’t seen you around for three or four weeks.”

  “Go away, Patrick. I’m working.”

  “You know, my employer is engaged to a woman who reminds me of you. A true doppelgänger. Only, looking at you I see I was mistaken. She fills out a dress in a way you never could.” Patrick slowly assessed her from toe to hair.

  “I’m sure your employer appreciates you lusting after his fiancée. Maybe I should tell him?”

  “He might not mind. He goes through women fast enough, and seeing she joined his mile-high club last night, who knows how fast he’ll dump her.” Patrick’s grin was enough to make Abbie gag. He stepped closer. “I know she can’t be you. ’Cause you are too uptight to let anyone in those pants of yours.” When Patrick reached out to pat her posterior, Abbie got the satisfaction of trying one of the moves she’d perfected on her brothers.

  Thump.

  Patrick blinked up at her from where he lay on the floor and let out a string of profanity.

  A tap on the door behind told her Mandy was ready to return to the brunch.

  “I suggest you clear the hall before Mrs. Crawford sees you. Your employer may not pay attention to my complaint, but he will hers.” Abby slipped into the restroom.

  Mandy smoothed her dress. “What happened out there?”

  “Not much. I had a run-in with a guy who thinks too much of himself.”

  “It sounded like you floored him.”

  Abbie smiled. “You know it.”

  The hallway was empty when they returned to the banquet room.

  Preston sat with Alan at Abbie’s apartment, listening to the audio feed from Abbie’s wire. He balled his fists and noticed Alan do the same. Patrick would never work within a thousand miles of Abbie again.

  Alan started laughing at a thump followed by a string of expletives.

  “What was that?”

  “Patrick. My guess is he became victim to one of Abbie’s signature moves. She has managed to drop every one of us to the floor with one of them, including Dad. I bet she has been waiting for years. I hope there was a security camera in the hall. I would enjoy watching her flip him repeatedly.”

  “You are telling me your sister flipped Patrick on his back? She is less than half his size.”

  Alan kept laughing. “And that, my friend, is the beauty of it. Her abilities are why I haven’t been as uptight about the two of you as Adam and Alex are. I figure if you step out of line, she will take you out herself.”

  A text flashed on Alan’s phone. “Dad says we will all meet here at eleven thirty. Crawfords are leaving the event early. Simon is coming.”

  Preston nodded and went back to the earlier conversation. “So, Adam and Alex don’t like my hiring Abbie?”

  “Pretty much. Alex has the twin thing going on and is always protective. Don’t even try to figure it out. They had their own language until they were five. He used to try to protect her from us when they were little. Adam had a job like this go bad a few years ago when he got too close to a client. He doesn’t want her hurt.”

  “I won’t hurt her.”

  Alan looked Preston in the eye. “We don’t always get to choose who we will hurt and who we won’t.”

  The meeting took longer than it should to get started because Alan had gotten a copy of the security footage from the benefit. Preston wasn’t sure if he should be proud or scared of his pretend fiancée. Jethro and Simon debated Patrick’s fate for a while. In the end it was decided to let Patrick work in the hope that he would lead them to the stalker. Preston wanted to jail Patrick and be done with it. The Boston police would press charges.

  Abbie doodled on a notepad. “We only have two weeks to find the stalker, and I don’t know if we are any closer than we were before. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”

  “You’re wrong. We know Patrick is involved.” Alex’s face hadn’t changed from the grim expression he had worn since listening to the audio feed from Abbie’s wire.

  Abbie looked at Simon. “Is there some way you could wire him without him knowing?”

  “Your father and I discussed that. But there are some legal issues. We have considered me ‘hiring’ someone on your father’s team to be Patrick’s new partner.”

  Adam stood near the window. “There is another option, and I want everyone to hear me out. Abbie needs to be more accessible. Living in a Hastings-secured building makes it harder for Patrick or the stalker to get to her. What if you do move into the guesthouse? We can put in some Hastings-controlled cameras and make it easier for the stalker.”

  “No.” Everyone turned to stare at Preston. “Abbie was very clear on why she didn’t want to move into the guesthouse. Things are going to be messy enough when we call off the engagement. I don’t want Neanderthals like Patrick thinking she’s easy.” It irked him that Patrick thought he had inducted Abbie into the nonexistent club.

  Next to him, Abbie sighed. “If it will help us find the stalker faster, maybe I should move in.”

  “Do you mind if we talk out on the balcony? And will you turn off any mikes you have out there?” Preston took her hand and led her outside.

  Abbie looked over her shoulder. “We should have made them close the blinds, too.”

  Preston leaned on the railing. “When you refused to move in with me three weeks ago, I thought you were naive, but since then I have come to understand your point. I don’t want you to compromise your values for this. Next week there are a few interviews scheduled with some of the local morning news shows. I want you to be able to show your purity ring and be just as proud of your accomplishment as you were the day you told me no.”

  “You never cease to amaze me, Preston. But this isn’t about me. It’s about a person who would scare a hundred people by planting a fake bomb. If we catch him this week, there won’t be a next week or any interviews. Can you imagine what might happen if we don’t find him and go to the fake-wedding phase? I can wear a gun under the dress, but not a bulletproof vest.”

  “Maybe we can get Mateo to sew in some Kevlar.”

  Abbie laughed. “And for the discerning, safety-conscious bride, we have the dress made to repel both insults and bullets.”

  Preston became serious. “How is the fake-wedding part going to work out for your reputation? After the break up it will be hard to get the media to separate the real you from the undercover you, because someone will figure it out.”

  “Not as bad as the news will for yours. Although the media has forgiven you for going through a half dozen serious girlfriends in three years. The people who know me will know the truth and that is what matters.”

  “I should call this off now. We can have Patrick arrested for planting the fake bomb and announce he was working with a stalker. Maybe the arrest will scare
the stalker off.”

  “How about this: Let’s give it another week. We can be out in public more and have a few parties at your house. Then we reevaluate. We can only wait so long before contacting the Boston PD about Patrick anyway.” Abbie held out her hand for him to shake.

  “Deal. With one exception. The first time this becomes life-threatening, it’s over.”

  sixteen

  Heterochromia. There was a boy in the third grade with two different colored eyes and the teacher had put the word on their vocabulary test. Abbie looked at her reflection in the mirror. The transition between Abbie and Gale became harder each day as the lines between their personalities blurred. Each time she talked with Preston, she ended up sharing more of herself. The outsides looked different, but the interiors were meshing.

  Abbie put in the other contact. Today she was to have tea with Margaret Harmon. Then there would be a party at the residence to celebrate the engagement. The stalker hadn’t done anything since the bomb incident. Last night she had spent almost as much time waiting for the next attack as she had listening to the concert she’d attended with Preston and Felica.

  Her phone pinged. She didn’t recognize the number.

  Why don’t you go away?

  She picked up her other phone and called Alan. “Hey, I’m getting texts from a number I don’t recognize.”

  “Probably a burner phone, but give me the number.”

  Abbie read off the number as another message came in.

  You are not what he needs. A goody-two-shoes farm girl doesn’t belong in our world.

  “Listen to this text.” Abbie read it emphasizing the words “our world.” I think we are looking at someone from Chicago’s 1 percent. Maybe some socialite Preston passed over.”

  “Simon ran checks on all the old girlfriends going back to the girl he married on the playground in first grade.”

  — Why can’t I find your high school yearbook?

  Abbie read the text to her brother. “Someone is trying to dig around. But homeschoolers like Gale don’t have yearbooks.”

  — Are you going to answer me?

  “I’ll let you know if things escalate. But I need to finish getting ready.”

  “You do realize you didn’t need to call me since we are monitoring your apartment? You only needed to yell at a camera.”

  “Um, maybe, but I am in my bathroom doing my makeup, and the cameras are off in here.”

  Alan laughed. “True, but you could have still yelled. The bedroom feed would have picked it up.”

  “Poor boy. If I call, you can’t play with your toys. Goodbye, Alan.”

  Abbie was three minutes early to the restaurant. Margaret Harmon walked in the second the clock changed to 3:00 p.m. The tea proceeded as precisely as the etiquette book said it should. No one interrupted the meal, and nothing unusual occurred. Except Margaret showed she had a sense of humor. Abbie longed to tell her she would never be her daughter-in-law.

  Margaret set down her teacup. “I am surprised you haven’t changed the china pattern I picked out. It’s absolutely hideous.”

  “I wondered if it wasn’t some sort of test. I have picked another one, but I was trying to figure out the best way to change it and whether to tell you or not.”

  “Well, which one did you choose?”

  “The Wedgwood Blue is my favorite, but I suspect there is already a set or four variations in the family collection. There is a red pattern I like, but I did want to make sure what I want doesn’t duplicate anything.”

  Margaret smiled. “Common sense. I prayed my boy would find a woman with common sense. He won’t appreciate your quality for years, but in a world where zeros start to become meaningless, common sense is the first penny to get lost .”

  They left the restaurant together. “Did you have your clothing sent to the residence for tonight’s party?”

  “I sent my dress with the driver.”

  Margaret linked arms with Abbie. “Then let’s go change that hideous pattern and do a bit of shopping.”

  It turned out Margaret Harmon also had excellent taste in everything. And despite Preston’s warning, she hadn’t tried to change anything about the wedding. Abbie wondered how well Preston truly knew his mother.

  Preston knocked on the door of the room Abbie was using to dress for the party. “Ready?”

  Dressed in a robe, Abbie opened the door a few inches. “The stalker struck.” She held up what could have been ruby-red party streamers, the only recognizable piece the bodice, where a heart shape had been removed.

  “Your dress? What do we do?”

  “Go find your mother. She’ll have an idea.”

  Preston found his mother greeting guests and explained the problem. Mum disappeared through a side door. Less than ten minutes later, his mother escorted Abbie down the grand staircase. Preston maneuvered through the crowd to meet them both at the base.

  “Where did you find a dress?”

  His mother patted him on the shoulder. “Never ask a woman to reveal her sources. Now, you two go mingle.”

  Preston put his hand on the small of Abbie’s back and started introducing her to the friends and family gathered to celebrate with them. Fortunately, this party was Mum’s idea of small and only included around sixty people. Halfway through the introductions, after one of mother’s friend’s husbands insisted Abbie had been at a party last year, Preston realized why Abbie seemed to have no problem with so many people’s names. She attended functions like this where she faded into the background as one of the nameless security personnel, sometimes obvious in a dark suit and at other times, like the New Year’s party, where she was dressed to mingle. Most likely she already knew their names, their social situations, and probably who they hired for security.

  Eventually, they made it to the dance floor, and Preston twirled her into a waltz. Abbie’s face relaxed as she smiled up at him. “I am glad this was one of your mother’s smaller parties. It helps to narrow down our list.”

  “What do you mean?” Preston spun her to the edge of the dancers, hoping no one would overhear.

  “Whoever destroyed the dress did it in the hour before the party started. I checked on the dress when I returned with your mother. You and I talked for a moment, and I went to take a quick shower because the perfume girl at Sak’s was a bit too aggressive. I locked the bedroom door when I showered, but the room was unlocked between the time I checked on the dress and my shower. Someone could have had a key and come in during my shower or come in earlier. So early arrivals, caterers, house staff. No one we talked to seemed to be overly shocked I would wear a vintage Dior dress. Although Felicia was a bit upset Margaret had loaned me something out of her collection when she wouldn’t loan her anything. I pointed out the difference in sizes. This floor-length dress would drown your cousin. But then, she might have been upset someone had ruined my other dress. Felicia had picked the gown out when we were shopping the other day.”

  As Preston spun Abbie out and took a good look at the dress she now wore, a slightly faded photo came to mind. “Now I know where I’ve seen your dress. Mum wore it to her engagement party thirty-five years ago.”

  “Oh no.” Abbie ducked her head.

  “What?”

  “Your mother likes me.”

  seventeen

  The Friday morning meeting was moved to Abbie’s apartment so that she didn’t need to go into the office. Both Simon and Preston were present by special invitation for the second half.

  Referring to a paper in front of him, Jethro said, “The PIs finally tracked down the ex-model blogger. She changed her name and is living in Australia. She went on some TV fad diet and lost two-hundred pounds and is now their spokesperson. There is no evidence she knows Patrick or has ever tried to contact him, so she’s off our l
ist.”

  Simon sat next to her father. “I have heard from the Boston PD. The bomb was purchased from a Chicago-area prop shop. They would like to question Patrick and me again. They also would like to speak with Abbie and Preston. But with your wedding just a week away, they have agreed to send out a detective rather than ask us to go to Boston. He lands at O’Hare in an hour.”

  “My man has been able to find very little on Patrick this week, other than eliminating him from the dress cutting. Although he does suspect Patrick has more than one girlfriend. And not that it seems relevant to the investigation, but he did make two visits to the chiropractor this week. He threw his back out.”

  Adam and Alex high-fived Abbie. Everyone else clapped.

  “If your father ever decides to let his secret weapon go, I’ll double your pay.” Simon’s smile indicated he might be joking.

  “Sorry, Simon. I’ll stay with Dad. But back to the Boston PD. I think we should tell them what we believe. Eliminating Patrick from the stalker’s resources will make her do more on her own.” As Abbie shifted, her leg brushed Preston’s, the contact setting her nerves on edge, probably because Alex sat on the other side of her glaring at Preston every two minutes.

  Preston tapped his pen on his knee. “Her? You think the stalker is a woman?”

  “From the texts I have been getting all week, yes. And the way the dress was cut, I am guessing female. And I think she did the dress personally. Why else cut a heart shape out of the bodice and keep it? The problem is Felicia had at least four friends at the residence from early afternoon on. And the caterer still can’t account for two of the employees security counted. I think she is someone who wants the path clear so she can have a relationship with you.” Who wouldn’t? He’d proved he was one of the good guys, not to mention cute. Abbie hoped her thoughts didn’t show. Her brothers would not be kind.