“Ooh.” Jaycie leaned in, resting her forearms on the counter. “Is this exclusive, pre-blog gossip?”
Another thing Gwen needed to remember. She’d actually written and scheduled that bitter post the other night, about how bad things went with Brad. His name wasn’t on it, but other things like using her as a fiancée to look good in front of his ex, were. She needed to pull it down before it went live. “Not quite. I mean, yes, it’ll go on the blog, and it’ll be amazing.” She didn’t believe herself. “But it’s not that kind of news. We’re engaged.”
Jaycie’s jaw dropped, and it took several seconds for her to snap it shut again. “You’re what-to-who-now?” She laughed. “I get it. You’re yanking my chain. Holy crap, you almost had me. What’s got you in such a playful mood?”
“I’m not kidding.” Gwen focused on not fidgeting or doing anything but standing there, pleasant smile in place, trying to look like she was the luckiest woman alive. “He proposed, I accepted.”
Jaycie studied her, gaze searching Gwen’s face. Then she shook her head. “No, really. Oh, shit. You’re not. There are other ways to win against your brother.”
“I’m really that transparent, aren’t I?”
“Only to anyone who knows you. George stopped paying attention years ago, so you might pull this off. As long as you lose the whole attending-your-own-funeral look when you tell him the fantastic news.” Jaycie sighed. “Don’t do this. We both know trying to gloss over a problem like this, pretending there’s any solution other than a direct one, isn’t the way to go.”
“Too late.” And it was. Even though everything Jaycie said made sense and echoed the thoughts Gwen tried to ignore, she and Brad had already started down this path. “Besides, it won’t be for long, and we’re both walking into it eyes wide open.”
“I’m going to cut out all the hemming and hawing and straight-up ask you, is there any way I can talk you out of this?”
“Please don’t.” Gwen was surprised at the pleading in her own voice. “I don’t want to be stuck in court for the next ten years, fighting over something that’s rightfully mine. This way, it ends quickly and neatly. Once the judge signs the arbitration in my favor, it’s over.”
“Did he at least apologize for being a manipulative ass?”
Heat rushed to Gwen’s cheeks, carried on memories of the night before. “Without question.”
Jaycie’s smile looked as phony as this entire arrangement. “In that case, congratulations. I get to be the maid of honor, don’t I? And you’re not sticking me in a tacky dress?”
“Always and never. Thank you.” The simple words didn’t seem like enough given what Jaycie was playing along with, but they’d do for now.
“We’re going out to celebrate, right?” Jaycie asked. “We get to meet the love of your life, make sure he knows I had you first?”
“You’re going to tell Ethan, aren’t you?” How many people would find out this thing was fake, before someone believed it was real?
“Yeah. But don’t worry; he’ll be as happy to play along as I am.”
“You’re not reassuring me.”
Jaycie’s expression shifted into something more genuine and sympathetic. “We’re both here for you.”
“You want lunch before things get too busy?” Anxiety still twitched through Gwen, but knowing Jaycie was on board made a huge difference.
“Duh?”
Gwen relaxed further. That was back to normal. She placed Jaycie’s order with the kitchen, and then slid into the noon rush. Things were at their thickest, with every table full and a few parties waiting, when Jaycie grabbed her attention.
“Five minutes, I promise,” Gwen called over her shoulder.
“I need thirty seconds. You want to see this.”
Gwen set her current order in front of its waiting patrons and stopped next to Jaycie. She wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. “What’s up?”
Jaycie held out her phone, search result displayed with Gwen’s website at the top. “Your URL, your metadata?”
“You know it is.” A sick feeling without a source clawed at Gwen’s gut.
Jaycie clicked the link. The screen spun as the device changed to the new website, and… Gwen clenched her jaw so hard, her teeth ached. Brad’s site sat on the screen, not hers. “No.”
“Yes.” Jaycie set the phone down. “He hijacked your search-engine listing.”
Molten rage filled Gwen’s veins. Fucking asshole. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding.” She struggled to keep the waver from her voice.
“We both know a 403 redirect doesn’t happen accidentally.”
Gwen muttered every foul word she could think of under her breath. “Thanks for showing me.” She couldn’t deal with it now; she had customers to take care of. She focused her remaining energy on not taking this out on them. The minutes ticked by, and then a few hours. Somewhere along the way, Jaycie wished her luck and offered to help break kneecaps if needed, and then took off.
By the time the diner was almost empty again, Gwen’s scorching fury had shifted to something cold and sat heavy in her limbs. She snagged Brad’s card from where she’d tucked it under the cash register, and dialed the work number.
“Too Goode to be True. This is Mr. Goode’s office. May I help you?” The woman who answered the phone was cool and polite.
Gwen wouldn’t take this out on her. No, she wanted to do it in person, and let Brad deal with it himself. She poured sugar into her voice. “Hi. I was wondering if Brad had any openings in his schedule this afternoon. I was hoping to make an appointment.”
“I’m sorry, miss. His calendar is booked for the rest of the day. He’s free tomorrow at two.”
“Are you sure? I think he might make five minutes for me.”
“Oh?” The woman’s voice lilted in disbelief. “And who might you be, miss?”
“His fiancée.”
“I—” There was a long pause. “Can I have you hold for a moment?”
“Of course.” Gwen probably looked like a maniac to anyone watching. Grinning at the empty air, teeth gritted, tone syrupy. It didn’t matter what answer the woman came back with. Gwen would head down there and camp outside Brad’s office until he made time. But she could try to afford him a courtesy he hadn’t given her, and make an appointment.
“Ms. Debson?” The woman was back a few seconds later. “He says he’s sorry he can’t take your call, but he’d love to see you at three-thirty, if that works for you.”
“That sounds perfect.” Gwen cringed at her own cheer. Maybe it was a bit over the top.
“Great. We’ll see you then. And congratulations.”
Gwen hissed at the phone after she disconnected. That gave her about twenty minutes to get there. Not a lot of time, but enough. She let her people know she was stepping out for the afternoon, grabbed her purse, and cut a straight line for her car. Every stoplight she missed or car who drove a little too slow raised her ire another notch. By the time she reached the address on Brad’s business card, she was ready to scream.
The four-story brick building was a modern one in Sugar House, a few blocks from his condo. The city had spent a lot of money over the last few years, reviving the old town and making everything old look new again. Brad’s company sat on the top floor of the building. She was a little surprised the office was so small, for a company with such a large presence. She doubted more than thirty people worked there.
Reception pointed down the hall, last door on the left, and told her he was waiting. With each new step, the mask Gwen had worn since she figured out he was hijacking her site melted away a little more. When he stepped from his office and met her halfway, she couldn’t hide her growl.
He frowned. “Hey, sweetie. You all right?”
“Peachy.”
“Okay… I’m really sorry, but I have to handle something over in Art, and they need it in time to drop their work with FedEx. Give me ten minutes?”
She blinked at him in di
sbelief. He was acting like there was nothing wrong and brushing off their meeting. “No.”
“Please.” He reached for her hand.
She stepped away. She didn’t want to make a scene in front of his employees, but she was seconds from doing so.
“I’ll hurry. There are chairs there.” He nodded toward two next to his door. “Ten minutes, tops.”
And then he was gone. Gwen stared wide eyed at the spot where he’d just stood. She was unable to grasp a single thought. What was she supposed to do, chase him down and rip him a new one in front of his Art Department? Satisfying, to be sure, but the professionalism inside wouldn’t let her carry through with it. She dropped into an empty seat, twisted her fingers together, and tried not to grip so tight it made her knuckles ache.
“Excuse me.” A young voice interrupted Gwen’s silent rage. “Gwen?”
She looked up to find Drea watching her. Great. Now she was going to have to answer questions like, Are you my daddy’s new girlfriend? Or, Will you be my new mommy? No wonder Brad made her wait in the hall. Gwen swallowed her irritation further down than she had yet today. She might not be interested in signing on to be a stepparent, but there was no reason to be rude to the kid. “Hi. What can I do for you?”
“You can wait in there.” Drea pointed at the open door. “The chairs are more comfortable. I know my dad doesn’t want me bugging business associates, but you’re a friend.”
Gwen wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t know how to refuse the offer. She followed Drea into the room. “Thanks.”
Like with his condo, most of the decor was wrought iron and glass. It had a slick, sterile feel to it. But Drea was right; the padded leather chairs were more comfortable.
Drea paced to the other side of the glass desk. “I’m trying to figure out what my dad sees in this place.”
“You mean work?”
“Yeah, that.” Drea looked around the office. “I mean, all the books are about boring stuff like marketing, and he looks so grumpy when he has to take phone calls.”
“I guess that’s being an adult.”
“No.” Drea shook her head. “Because your work is a lot better. You can eat all the French fries you want, and I bet no one ever tells you that you can’t have a chocolate milkshake.”
Gwen couldn’t argue with that. “But your dad likes what he does.”
“But why?” Drea dropped into his seat, the high-backed executive chair making her look even smaller. She leaned in and deepened her voice. “So tell me, miss, who are you, and how will you make me money?”
Despite her mood, Gwen almost laughed at the impersonation. “Well, I’m—”
“No, no, no. You hand me a business card as you introduce yourself. That’s the way they all do it.” Drea looked at her, eyes wide with expectation. “Well?”
“Oh, we’re actually doing this?” Gwen fumbled for her purse. She couldn’t believe she was taking orders from a ten-year-old.
“You do know how to play pretend, don’t you?”
Given the reason she was here, apparently not as well as she thought. Gwen snagged a card from the case in her purse and handed it over.
Drea took it with a grin and shoved it in her pocket.
“I’m so sorry about that, ladies.” Brad’s hurried tone cut through the game. He rested a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “My time is all yours now.”
Gwen tried to be subtle about jerking from his touch, but she let the anger rush back onto her expression as she stood and faced him.
He looked her over, and then nodded at the doorway behind him. “Follow me. Drea, I’ll be back soon.”
Chapter Nine
Though it had been less than a week, Brad had no doubt the red spots on Gwen’s face and the way she clenched her fists meant she was pissed off. It was a universal sign anyway, but he’d seen the look on her enough already. He wasn’t sure what had her furious, but he might as well get it out of the way. He led her into the room they used to record sound for commercials.
She glanced around at the curtained walls, then back at him. “What’s this?”
“You’re going to yell, aren’t you? The room is soundproof.”
“Yeah, odds are pretty good I’m gonna yell.”
“Do I get to know what I did wrong first?”
She drew her lips into a thin line and focused a glare on him. “This isn’t the kind of thing that gets misinterpreted. I can’t fathom what kind of excuse you’ve got for it. But sure, let’s play some more pretend and say you don’t know why I’m furious.”
He racked his brain for any hint of what might be going on, but came up blank. He’d be happy to apologize if he knew, but the blind accusations without basis were too much like Emily. He’d put up with that for about half a second if Gwen didn’t explain. “I’d appreciate that.”
“When you told me last night you respected that I didn’t want to sell, I assumed you meant the issue was over and done with. Not that you’d find a different way of using my hard work to your advantage.”
He struggled to process her meaning, and still didn’t find an answer. “It is. We’re working on an alternative.”
“Which includes a bit of grey-hat SEO and redirecting anyone who searches for my site to yours. How do you think that’s okay?” Her voice rose in volume as she finished her question.
He was millimeters from telling her she was insane, and to maybe check her meds before she stepped off the deep end, but it wouldn’t be right. He might tell Emily such a thing these days, but if he was irritated at Gwen for assuming the worst, he wasn’t going to do the same. “I promise—swear it on everything I hold dear—I’ve no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“Like you had no clue who I was, when you agreed to meet up with me? The same way you didn’t have any idea I was the person you’d been trying to find for months, though you conveniently located me the next morning? That kind of no fucking clue?”
He definitely didn’t like having that thrown back in his face. “I thought we moved past that. Are you calling me a liar? You told me all was forgiven.”
“Apparently, I was wrong.”
The accusations hurt as much as they enraged. It seemed as though everything he appreciated about her, she felt he was lacking in spades. “I didn’t do any of this.” He said each word slowly, emphasizing the syllables as if talking to a child. “I’ll prove it.” He led her into the recording room. “I assigned one of my people this morning to work on SEO. Told him we couldn’t get your domain, so we needed alternate ways to push ourselves to the top of the rankings.” He hit the speaker button on the phone and dialed a familiar extension.
“Matthew Gordon.”
“Matt, it’s Brad.”
“Hey, boss. What’s up?”
Brad glanced at Gwen, to make sure she was listening, then said, “Sanity check. What are you working on right now?”
“That website SEO thing you gave me this morning. I’m almost done, though.”
Brad didn’t like the sound of that. A project like this, if done right, should take weeks if not months. Especially competing with the work Gwen had done. “How’s that work, then?”
“It’s freaking brilliant.” Pride oozed in Gordon’s retort. “403 redirect on our biggest keywords. Someone types in bad date, they get the other site listing, but when they click the link, it takes them to us.”
Shit. No wonder Gwen was pissed. That didn’t stop Brad from being bothered she doubted his word. What his guy did might not technically be illegal, but it definitely jumped far over the line of ethical. Brad wouldn’t tolerate that. “Gordon, I need to see you in ten. Clear your calendar.” He hung up before he could get a response. He needed to call HR next, and apparently his afternoon would end with an exit interview. He turned back to Gwen, who looked like she didn’t know if she should be angry or sheepish.
“You expect me to believe you didn’t know about that?” The force vanished from her tone.
“I don
’t care what you believe. I’m tired of trying to justify myself to you when I didn’t do anything wrong.” He gestured to the door. “I’ve got another meeting. Can you find your way out?”
“Brad, wait.”
“Enjoy your afternoon, Gwen.” He stepped around her and made his way to Human Resources. He had enough people in his life who spent their time lying and refused to take him at face value. He didn’t need it from her, too.
****
Brad was exhausted by the time he dragged himself into his condo. It was almost nine. He felt ambivalent about dropping Drea off with Emily. On the one hand, he hated to see her go, but on the other, he didn’t want her to have to put up with him in this mood. Firing Gordon sucked, especially after the guy started crying in the HR manager’s office and saying he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. His violation had nothing to do with Gwen, though. It was unethical and against company policy.
After that, Brad dealt with a couple more crises, including the fact Art missed the FedEx drop anyway, and he had to take it to the airport offices himself. At least Tori could deal with her people for the delay. Then Emily handed him the newest court papers, officially filing her request for full custody. The evening’s saving grace was that it was Friday, so he could sink into a bottle tonight and not have to wake up before noon tomorrow.
His phone buzzed. He wasn’t going to look. He’d pour himself a straight shot of Bourbon or two, or five, and watch bad movies until he passed out.
His phone taunted him from its spot on the coffee table, light flashing with an unread text, reminding him he wasn’t the kind of guy who shirked responsibility. If it was Emily or work, he needed to know.
What if it’s Gwen?
Why would it be?
Wouldn’t that be better?
Definitely not. He couldn’t believe he was arguing with himself. It was true she didn’t owe him trust. Regardless of what they talked about last night, it was only the surface of either of them. That didn’t stop it from gnawing at him, clawing at his chest, that she continued to assume the worst when he was involved.
Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) Page 6