Faking Forever (First Wives Book 4)

by Catherine Bybee

“You and I both know that is not what happened. You walked out on him. We were all there.”

  “You told me to.”

  “I did no such thing.” This conversation was going nowhere.

  “Yes, you did!” Corrie was screaming now.

  Shannon pulled the phone away from her ear. “I’m hanging up, Corrie.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m not finished—”

  Click!

  Shannon stared at her cell phone, wasn’t surprised when it immediately rang again. Unknown caller.

  She let it go to voice mail.

  Victor dropped the latest magazine with an article about Shannon on his desk. This time the images were mainly of her behind the camera as she took pictures of him at his doomed wedding.

  Someone at the rehearsal dinner caught the two of them in the background of a selfie when Shannon had poured her drink all over him. It was out of focus and grainy, but it was definitely him with Shannon’s hands on his chest. She’d been attempting to apologize. The memory of the moment brought a smile to his face. She’d really hated him at that time.

  Okay, maybe hate wasn’t the right word.

  Irritated.

  Which he deserved.

  Only this picture accompanied an article with direct quotes from Corrie, according to the reporter, about Shannon stealing her man. There was a picture of Corrie in her wedding gown, an image he’d never seen, probably taken by one of her friends.

  It was the ugliest article to date. While it didn’t touch Victor, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was doing to Shannon.

  Every time he brought up the media, she waved it off. “I’m not a Kardashian. This will all blow over. Trust me. I’m used to it.”

  Yeah, well . . . she might be used to it, but he wasn’t.

  A knock on his office door had him putting the magazine aside.

  Stephanie walked in with the daily agenda. Her gaze skidded past the magazine on his desk before she set the folder she carried right on top of it.

  They went over his schedule, and she brought his attention to a summit meeting he normally attended in Asia the following week. “I’ve already booked the flights and hotels.”

  “How many nights?”

  “I have you flying into Beijing Sunday and leaving the following Saturday, per normal. Did you need me to change it?”

  He shook his head. As much as he wanted to shorten the trip, he knew he couldn’t. With the new ban on plastic recycling imports going into China, his presence and keeping his finger on the pulse of the scrap metal industry in the country were imperative to his company, for all the employees that worked for him and depended on their paychecks to feed their families.

  “Okay, I’ve scheduled our interpreter to meet you at the airport. All the files and articles that will be brought up are in there.” She pointed to the folder on his desk. “All translated and highlighted.”

  “Perfect,” he told her.

  She stood to leave and hesitated.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  She glanced at his desk. “That one was mean-spirited.”

  He looked at the garbage magazine under his mountain of work. “All lies.”

  Stephanie nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  “I’m guessing the staff has been up on their reading.”

  “Hard not to when your private boss’s personal life is splattered on the front page.”

  “Don’t believe a word of it,” he told her. “Shannon is nothing like what these people say.”

  With a timid smile, Stephanie left his office.

  He tapped a pen against his desk in thought. He had an eleven o’clock board meeting to discuss China.

  Lunch would have to be quick, maybe a sandwich at the café across the street.

  “Acknowledge the elephant in the room.”

  His decision made, he picked up his phone.

  Shannon’s voice made him smile.

  “Hey, sexy. Do you have plans for lunch?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Victor heard her laughter when he opened the door from the board meeting.

  “This one is my favorite,” he heard Shannon say when he rounded the corner. His executive staff followed him down the hall that led to their row of offices.

  She half sat, half leaned on Stephanie’s desk, pointing at an open magazine. She wore a dress that went past her knees with a kitten heel that looked like she was working in the office instead of visiting.

  He’d hinted that he needed her help dispelling some of the office rumors and would she mind coming by so they could go to lunch together. Obviously she didn’t need any more coaching than that.

  She caught sight of him and stood. “There you are,” she said as she crossed to his side.

  He caught her kiss on his cheek and placed a hand on her waist.

  “You’re early,” he told her.

  “No, you’re late,” she teased.

  He looked at his watch. Two minutes past twelve.

  “Now you’re just being picky.”

  She smiled and turned her attention to the audience standing beside him. “Stating facts, hon.” She reached out her hand to Andrew, standing at his side. “I’m Shannon.”

  Victor jumped in to make the introductions. He could tell by the expressions of his staff that she’d charmed them all with a smile. To seal the unity, she turned to a stack of articles on Stephanie’s desk and handed it to Andrew. “I brought some fun reading material for the water cooler. I especially like the one about how my anorexia is back in full force after Victor and I met.”

  Laughter, and lots of it, filled the hall.

  She turned to him. “Since you said you had to have a quick lunch, I brought some from that deli you mentioned. I thought we could eat in your office, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Great idea.”

  Shannon turned to his staff. “Lovely meeting all of you. Sorry I took some of your lunch time away.”

  Victor pushed her toward the open doors of his office and closed them inside.

  He turned to her the second they were alone and removed her lipstick the best way he knew how.

  “We are not doing this in your office,” she said five minutes later, when it became obvious that he had every intention of doing this on his desk, against the wall . . . in his office chair . . . the couch.

  “Give me one good reason why not.” He bit her ear.

  “Because you asked me to come to make a good impression with your employees, not become the heroine of your own Fifty Shades of Grey novel.”

  She made him laugh. “I missed that one.”

  Shannon pushed him away, slightly. “You should pick it up. It’s very . . . inspiring.”

  Yeah, so he’d heard. “Maybe I will.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  With reluctance, he put some space between them, took the sack holding their lunch, and moved to the sofa. She sat beside him and helped him spread out their meal.

  “Your office is bigger than I pictured. Your staff seemed very nice.”

  He opened the wrapper on a sandwich, smelled tuna, and handed it to her. “Everyone does their job.”

  “Are there happy hours with the boss?” she asked.

  “No. I haven’t made time for that.”

  She shrugged. “Any reason why?”

  “I never felt the need.” He took a bite of his ham and cheese.

  She picked up her tuna, nibbled. “You know, having a good relationship with some of your key staff outside of the office will help dispel anything they might find on the front page of the papers. Not that I think all of this is going to continue, but it might be something to consider.”

  Victor nodded. “Except that up until a couple of months ago, before I met a certain someone, I was labeled an asshole.”

  Shannon grinned. “Yeah, but Justin called you a loveable asshole.”

  Victor wiped his mouth. “I’ll have to thank him for
that half-ass compliment.”

  “Just a suggestion.”

  He thought about the article he’d read about her and her relationship with the household staff at the governor’s mansion. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He took another bite of his sandwich, and she kept talking. “So, uhm . . . I got a call from Corrie the other day.”

  Victor stopped midbite. “Why is she calling you?”

  “I’m sure it will blow over.”

  “What did she say, Shannon?”

  She set her lunch aside, a polite smile spread on her lips. “It was ugly. There was yelling and name-calling. From her side, not mine. She blamed me for your split, accused us of sleeping together before the wedding. It’s obvious she’s reading the papers.”

  He set his sandwich down, his appetite faded. “I’ll call her.”

  “Which is what she wants, Victor. The whole thing smacks of something young girls do when they think someone has taken their prom date away.”

  He couldn’t help but wince.

  Shannon reached a hand out. “I’m sorry. She isn’t that young, but she said things she knew for a fact weren’t the truth and said it with such conviction it’s like she believes her own lie. I thought you had the right to know. And since she has obviously decided she likes the pages of the gossip magazines, I’m sure she’s not done yet.”

  “She has no right to slander you.”

  Shannon placed a hand to her chest. “I can take care of me.”

  He leaned over and kissed her briefly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  And when they finished their lunch, and his staff started funneling back into the office, Victor made a nasty call of his own.

  Shannon rolled over and placed her head on Victor’s bare chest. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.” They’d gotten in the habit of spending every other evening together, if only for a few hours. They’d have dinner and make love, or make love and have dinner. Sometimes food wasn’t necessary at all.

  “It’s only a week.”

  She sighed. “I know. I can handle it.”

  His chest rumbled with laughter. “I’d take you with me, but I would never get anything done.”

  “I couldn’t go, anyway. Escrow is closing, and I need to be here for the walk-through. Besides, I’m excited to clean the new place up.”

  “You can hire that done, you know.”

  “I like the work. Makes it more mine.”

  “Scrubbing floors makes it more yours?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, enjoyed the way he stroked her back when they were like this, talking after they’d taken complete advantage of each other’s naked bodies.

  “I might even try my hand at some of the construction.”

  He lifted her fingers to his lips, kissed them. “If I thought you were doing that out of financial need, I’d hire the crew for you.”

  “It isn’t about money.”

  “I know.” He smiled at her. “Do you realize that you’re the only woman I have dated that I didn’t worry about being after my bank account?”

  “That’s sad.”

  “True.”

  “Still sad.” The irony that the reason he didn’t worry about her being after his money was because she was living on Paul’s smacked her in the ear. She wanted to bring it up but thought it was probably a conversation that needed to wait a little longer in their relationship. If they ever did start talking about forever, revealing that she and Paul had an arrangement from the start was something she would have to do.

  “Can I ask you something personal?”

  “I’m naked and on top of you.” She rubbed her bare leg against his as if emphasizing the point. “Ask away.”

  “Does Paul pay you alimony?”

  Okay . . . apparently they were on the same plane of thought.

  “No,” she answered honestly.

  “Oh, good.”

  “Why is that good?” she asked.

  He squeezed her close, pushed back the hair falling into her face. “Because I don’t want another man taking care of you in any way.”

  “Very bohemian of you.”

  “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You do realize that the money I do have is because of the prenuptial we signed before we were married.”

  “I can handle that. I wouldn’t imagine a wealthy man not taking care of an ex-wife to a certain point.”

  “But a monthly check is hard to look past?”

  He grinned. “Work with me here. I’m new in this world.”

  She placed her hand under her chin. “What world is that?”

  “The one where I’m channeling my caveman ancestors because the woman in my arms makes me think beyond myself.”

  There he went, making her melt again. “You know, when a man tells you exactly what you want to hear—”

  “It’s probably bullshit,” he finished for her.

  She laughed, and before she stopped, he’d changed positions with her, pinning her shoulders against her mattress. “Tell me if you think this feels like bullshit.”

  And when he was finished with her, any doubts she had floated out the windows with her passionate cry.

  Shannon drove him to the airport because she could and he wanted her to. His return flight would drop him off in the early morning hours, so he insisted that he would call her once he was less than comatose with jet lag.

  Instead of driving home, she found herself at Lori’s door with a bottle of wine.

  She lifted the bottle of Chianti as she walked inside. “You’re the only drinking friend I have right now. And I need to drink.”

  “Happy drinking or sad drinking?” Lori asked for clarification.

  “Both. Victor had to go to China for a week.”

  Lori led her inside and straight to the kitchen. Her high-rise condominium was only a couple of floors below Avery and Liam’s, but the two of them were at his parents’ for a Sunday dinner.

  “Where is Reed?”

  “Out on an assignment.”

  “How very secret service that sounded.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know all the details, but Blake asked for extra security at one of his meetings.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “It’s at a golf course,” Lori explained.

  “Ahh.”

  Lori popped the cork and splashed wine into two glasses.

  “So, China?”

  “Yeah.”

  The wine left a smoky aftertaste on her tongue.

  “You’re falling for him.”

  Shannon sighed. “I think I already fell.”

  She shared several details with Lori over takeout and Chianti, and they both laughed and sighed at all the parts that girls loved.

  Lori invited her to a party that Friday to distract her. Reed was working, and it would help her out, or so Lori told Shannon. She jumped on it, not wanting to be alone.

  Funny how for years she’d spent much of her time in solitude, and now, after Victor, she didn’t want that life any longer.

  With their plans made, Shannon said goodbye and made her way home.

  Fall was making its way into Southern California, which meant some days were the hottest they’d see all year, but the nights were often cool.

  She pulled into her garage and closed the door behind her. Inside the house, she switched on the lights and rubbed her arms.

  She kicked off her shoes, leaving them by the door leading into the garage. The house was unusually cold, so she immediately went to her thermostat and turned on the heater.

  She heard the ducts working and smelled the summer dust being burned out of the system. She considered another glass of wine by her fireplace. Maybe curl up to a good book.

  A breeze tickled the hair on her arms when she moved into her living room to turn on her gas fireplace. The curtains on one side of the room blew inward. She didn’t remember leaving a window open. But that explained the artic temps inside.
/>   She moved to the window to close it and something sharp cut the bottom of her foot.

  “Ouch,” she cried out, looking down.

  The carpet covering her tile floor was covered in glass. The foot she’d unknowingly stepped into the glass started to bleed.

  Shannon stepped back on impulse, into another shard with her other heel. From there, she hobbled on the uncut parts of both feet until she sat on her sofa. Both of her feet were bleeding, the right had a decent shard sticking out of the arch. She removed the glass with her fingertips, wincing at the pain. She needed to cover it quickly or ruin the rug she stood on.

  On tiptoes, she carefully made her way into the kitchen, where she grabbed the paper towels to sop up the mess.

  Shannon paused and looked into the living room. Her midcentury home had many of the original windows from when it was built, hence why there were shards of glass instead of chunks that didn’t cause as much damage when stepped on. That thought was followed with a more obvious one.

  How had the window broken in the first place?

  Wadding the paper towels on her feet, she slid back into her shoes, ignoring the pain it caused, and walked back into her living room. She pushed back the curtain to see a hole with lots of jagged pieces sticking out.

  Her first thought was a ball . . . maybe the neighborhood kids had been playing outside during the day.

  She turned a full circle, searching the room for what she was sure would be a white leather ball hiding under a chair or table.

  It wasn’t.

  Instead of an innocent ball, she found one of the decorative rocks from her front yard resting against the wall in the back of the room.

  Someone had broken the window on purpose.

  She looked at the hole again. It was too small for someone to have crawled through.

  But that didn’t stop Shannon from looking around the house.

  Satisfied that no one was inside and that nothing had been taken, Shannon returned to her living room and considered her options. Instead of the police, where a report would be filed, a squad car would show up at her door, and the media would return, Shannon called Lori.

  “You made it home?” Lori said when she answered.

  “I did. To an unwelcome surprise. Is Reed home yet?”

  “He just walked in the door. Is everything all right?”