The Act

by Stella Gray

  “I am now,” Stefan said, tapping at his smartphone screen.

  “Brooklyn was on the cover for their third issue, and the photos were insanely cool. Right up your alley type of stuff, Em,” Luka said. “How’d you meet him?”

  “At a party,” I said. “He knows all about Danica Rose and he’s familiar with my work.”

  Both of my brothers looked impressed.

  “Okay, now I remember,” Stefan said, still scrolling away at his screen. “They ran this great long-form piece about the influence of Eastern Europe on Western media.” He looked up at me, head cocked. “Shame you’re already married. Someone like Andrew could really bring a lot to the table.”

  “Way to be mercenary,” Luka joked. “Emzee married for love, remember?”

  I laughed along with them, but Stefan had no idea how close to my own thoughts his words had been. Because ever since my fortuitous introduction to Andrew, I’d been feeling more aware than ever that I did have a life of my own to pursue. Especially once I was divorced.

  Just like I had told Ford in the heat of the moment, the world wasn’t going to end when my relationship did. It might feel that way to me, but time always healed. And even though my mourning wouldn’t be an act, there would always be another act to follow. I’d get through it.

  “Oh, Em, were you planning on going to the Borderless Business Convention next week?” Stefan asked. “Luka’s coming with me, but if you want I can book you on our flight.”

  “Where is it? I remember hearing about it, but not the details.”

  “New York,” Stefan said. “I’m hoping to convince the Weston brothers to buy out a portion of our company. Not a controlling interest or anything, but…”

  “We could obviously use the cash,” Luka said.

  Right. To pay off the Bratva. Because my deal with the Malones was a secret. I wished I could tell them about it, but part of me was still afraid it might fall through. The Malones could renege at any moment. The other thing was, the less my brothers knew about my deal, the better. I knew they’d only try to talk me out of it, maybe even approach the Malones themselves—if I could just pull this off on my own, my family and DRM would be saved. I’d tell them about all of it afterward, when there’d be no chance of them screwing things up, best of intentions or not.

  I gave them a smile. “I’ll sit this one out, but thanks. I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment. Good luck, though. I really hope you make some headway with them. Fingers crossed.”

  My answer was cheery and chirpy—just as they’d expect from their little sister.

  Back in my own office, I closed the door and let out a breath of relief.

  As full of warm fuzzies as I was over my brothers’ care and concern for me, it was so much work pretending. I hated doing it, hated the constant lying, but it couldn’t be helped. We all had secrets. Unfortunately, mine felt like they were threatening to overwhelm me.

  I just had to get through the next year and hope that if I couldn’t pull off the deal with the Malones, maybe Stefan could work something out with the Weston brothers. If he could, good God, it would solve a lot of my problems. Both for the Zoric family and for me personally. I sent up a little prayer that the meeting would go well, that it might give us some options.

  Because as it stood right now, everything was riding on my divorce.

  A divorce I wasn’t even sure I wanted.

  Emzee

  Chapter 19

  “The Grand Ballroom here is absolutely perfect for what we have in mind,” Claudia was saying to Ford, batting her eyes tartily.

  I followed along behind them, wishing I hadn’t agreed to this. As much as having Claudia plan a fundraiser for See Yourself was going to be good for the charity and my mentees, it didn’t make me happy to be spending all this time with my husband’s ex. Especially when she made it so clear that she didn’t think much of our wedding vows.

  Claudia had shown up for our first meeting this morning in a sleek jade green suit and Saint Laurent heels, hair blown out and makeup tastefully on point. As for me, I’d thrown on dark skinny jeans, my black eyeliner, and a tweed blazer with a swiss dot blouse underneath. It was hard not to feel like a hobo standing next to her. There was no comparison between us.

  Where I was short and dark and curvy, Claudia was tall and blonde and thin. Her lipstick didn’t even smudge when she drank the grapefruit Perrier the Four Seasons hotel staff had offered her on a silver tray upon our arrival.

  And damn if I wasn’t already missing the soothing emotions I’d experienced with my brothers during our family meeting at DRM. I could practically feel the cortisol pumping into my system with every clip-clop of Claudia’s designer heels.

  This was our third stop so far, after touring event spaces at the Shedd Aquarium and the Mid-America Club. We still had appointments at a few more of the richy-rich hotels in town, including the Waldorf and the Langham, but I was already daydreaming about begging off with an imaginary migraine. I’d much rather be home, binging Outlander on the couch with Munch.

  Unfortunately, I trusted Claudia with my husband about as far as I could throw her.

  Not only did she look good enough to eat, but she had the charm turned up to eleven today. And the Malones hadn’t been bluffing, either—Claudia had an in at all the hottest spots in town. No matter where we went or who we spoke with, she was adored by everyone. I’d seen enough of those French double cheek kisses today to last me a lifetime.

  As much as it pained me to admit it, she obviously knew these venues like the back of her perfectly manicured hand—and she had all the connections I lacked. I wouldn’t accomplish half the things we were planning to do without her help. But I might have been able to appreciate those things a little more if she didn’t take advantage of every possible opportunity to pretend I wasn’t even there.

  “The room is seventy-seven hundred square feet, and can accommodate up to five-hundred-sixty banquet guests,” the hotel manager was telling us as he flung open the Grand Ballroom doors.

  “You see what I was saying?” Claudia beamed, dragging Ford up the staircase with her. “Isn’t it terribly dramatic? And this is the coat check, the parlor suite…”

  I followed along behind them, huffing to keep up.

  As I lifted my camera to snap a few photos, I felt more like Claudia’s assistant than the person for whom she was planning the fundraiser. Even the hotel manager was ignoring me, directing his speech about the state room’s capacity at Claudia and Ford. It didn’t help that my husband, in one of his bespoke suits, looked like he belonged with her.

  And Claudia was doing her best to take advantage of that assumption.

  I was just taking a few more pictures of the stunning chandelier overhead when Claudia said my name. I didn’t immediately respond, so she snapped her fingers at me. Like I was a dog.

  “Excuse you?” I said, my head whipping up. “Did you seriously just—”

  “The ballroom is this way,” Claudia told me, faux-sweetly. “Come along.”

  As she flounced ahead, I expected Ford to say something, but he was looking at his phone and didn’t even seem to notice the casual disrespect that his ex had just flung my way. Meanwhile I was fuming so hard there was practically steam coming out of my ears.

  “Ford,” I hissed, but he was already halfway across the lobby, following the manager.

  “I’ve put together dozens of incredibly successful events here,” Claudia was bragging when I caught up with them. “What do you think?”

  I couldn’t help glaring daggers at her as she held out her arms and executed a twirl in the center of the polished parquet floor.

  “Gorgeous,” Ford said, nodding.

  I kept reminding myself that I was doing this for the girls, but with every passing moment it became harder and harder to resist tripping Claudia in her heels so she’d fall flat on her face.

  “We’d go for something classy and elegant, not necessarily a theme,” Claudia was telling the hote
l manager. Then she turned to Ford with a smirk. “Remember those tacky fundraisers we went to in college?”

  Ford laughed. “How could I forget?”

  Claudia continued, “Remember that horrible one at the marina our senior year? Half the guests got seasick and the other half got sick watching everyone else be seasick.”

  My husband was in stitches now. I had no idea Claudia was such a gifted comedienne.

  “Oh yeah, that was disgusting,” Ford said. Hardy har har.

  “I don’t think the school raised any money at all!” Claudia giggled. “That was the last time they let anyone from Gamma Kappa Omega plan one of their events. They should have known better, though, those girls were always such a disaster.”

  She gave me a pointed look. Even though I’d never been in a sorority, it was clear that she thought I would have fit right in with the “disaster girls.”

  “Luckily, this is a ballroom and not a boat,” I pointed out dryly. Claudia ignored me. Then, inspiration struck. “Wait, what if we used part of the room as a gallery for some of my mentees’ photography? We could even do a silent auction for the photos, get them framed…”

  “That’s an interesting idea,” Ford said, nodding.

  “It’s very cute,” Claudia cut in. “But this is a banquet, not show and tell for all your little art projects. Ford, I was actually thinking we should do something more like what I did for the polo team fundraiser.”

  Cute? Art projects? I stalked over, absolutely livid, but Claudia didn’t even seem to notice. She just talked over me. Literally. I was about a head shorter than both of them.

  “Remember that night, Ford?” Claudia was asking. “With the polo team?”

  She stepped closer to him, wrapping a hand around his bicep. I held back a growl and firmly grabbed his other arm, flashing my wedding rings in Claudia’s face.

  “You know what night I remember, Ford?” I said, impersonating Claudia to a T.

  “Why don’t I show you and your husband the staging area,” the manager said, cutting in.

  With a sinking in my gut, I realized he was talking to Claudia.

  “My husband and I would love to see the staging area,” I said, making sure my voice was loud and clear.

  Everyone looked at me, slightly startled.

  “Oh,” the manager said, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

  I waved off the apology. “Staging, please?”

  Claudia had dropped her hand from Ford’s arm, but her expression was stormy. As we all followed the manager, she came up alongside me. “That was unbearably rude,” she said.

  “I agree,” I said. I was just about to tell her exactly how rude when Ford joined us.

  “What was that all about?” he asked me.

  Claudia frowned. “I’m not sure Emzee wants my help,” she said. “And if I’m not wanted, well, I’m happy to just go and leave you to it.”

  Part of me wanted to tell her not to let the door hit her in the ass on her way out, but I knew that if I wanted this fundraiser to be a success, I needed her.

  “Don’t go,” Ford said. “I’m sure Em was just eager to see everything.”

  “Yep,” I said, grinding my back teeth together. “That’s what it was.”

  Claudia gave Ford a dazzling smile. “I’m so glad we’re working together,” she told him. “We always made such a good team, don’t you think?”

  My nails were digging into my palms.

  “I guess we did,” Ford said.

  “Remember that time in Ibiza?” Claudia asked. “We had so much fun traveling. All those adventures.”

  Ford chuckled and patted Claudia’s arm. “That was a long time ago. Another life.”

  “I think we should focus on the fundraiser,” I said, hoping to remind both of them that I was literally standing right there. “We still have a ton of logistics to iron out.”

  Claudia glanced over at me and waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. Once we pick a location, the rest will fall into place.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that simple,” I argued.

  She gave me a look. “It’s exactly that simple with me,” she said with a condescending little laugh. “It’s almost like you’ve never planned a fundraiser before.”

  There was a long pause and then another laugh.

  “Oh, wait,” she said, literally looking down her nose at me. “I guess you haven’t.”

  She was right, dammit. I’d never planned a fundraiser before, and certainly not one of this scale.

  “All I care about is raising money for See Yourself,” I said, yet again feeling like a third wheel for my very own project. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

  Claudia did that condescending laugh again. “Well, of course, I will,” she said. “It’s not rocket science but it does take a particular kind of gentle touch.”

  She turned to Ford.

  “And you know exactly how gentle my touch is, don’t you, Ford?”

  They both laughed, and I forced myself not to scream. Claudia obviously had Ford wrapped around her finger, because he had yet to speak up for me even once—or even seem to notice what was going on.

  How dare that…Trust Fund Barbie keep putting the moves on my man. Even after I’d flashed my rings in her face! Our marriage might be fake, but Claudia didn’t know that.

  Or did she?

  Because come to think of it, Ford seemed to be leaning into Claudia’s flirtations, enjoying their little reunion way too much. Did he really not notice how manipulative his ex was being, how she was practically draping herself all over him, or was he simply not over her like I had thought he was? Or was this all some ploy to make me jealous?

  Well. If it was, it was working—but I’d never admit to Ford that I was indeed jealous of Claudia. And I could certainly be outwardly pissed about the optics.

  I’d just have to give him as much of a cold shoulder as he was giving me.

  Which meant, unfortunately, that I was stuck listening to the two of them reminisce about the glory days of their past while I tried to focus on choosing a venue and ignoring them.

  The rest of our tours for the day dragged on similarly (if not worse), with me trailing along behind Claudia and Ford and not even trying to engage.

  Ultimately, over a painfully unhurried dinner at Shanghai Terrace (Claudia was a member of the Peninsula Hotel’s exclusive Supper Club, of course, so she secured us a table on the spot—and then ordered for all of us in obnoxiously perfect Mandarin), I agreed that the Four Seasons had the best ambiance and setup for the size of our event.

  Dinner concluded, venue chosen, we finally said our goodbyes in the opulent cream and gold lobby of the Peninsula. I was already counting down the minutes until Ford and I could be alone again.

  But of course, Claudia wouldn’t stop talking.

  She was getting Ford up to speed on all the latest gossip and goings-on of a bunch of their old friends, including a couple of those mean girls who had bullied me back in the day.

  “Speaking of which!” she crowed, her big blue eyes lighting up. “Did you know it’s Roxana’s birthday?”

  “Today?” Ford asked. “No way! I haven’t seen her since that ski trip we all took a few years back.”

  “Aspen,” Claudia said with a grin. “I know. And yeah, everyone’s getting together at the Cubby Bear tonight. We should totally stop by. They’d love to see you.”

  I looked at my watch pointedly. “I’d actually rather not—”

  “I’d love that!” Ford said, drowning me out. “I’ll drive. Em?”

  Nope. I’d had enough.

  “You two go ahead,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

  “Are you sure?” Ford asked, hesitating for the first time all day.

  “Honestly—” I started.

  “Of course she’s sure!” Claudia chirped happily. “She’s an independent woman who can make her own decisions, isn’t that right, Emzee?”


  Like I could possibly argue with that. “Um, yeah.”

  Claudia looked triumphant. “See? You have to let her do her own thing, Ford.”

  Gritting my teeth, I realized I had just given her exactly what she wanted.

  “Where did you park?” Claudia was asking, already looping her arm through my husband’s and leading him toward the doors.

  “Later,” I muttered with a half wave.

  Slumping into a chair, I watched them walk away. I couldn’t believe this was happening. That I was letting Ford go off into the night with my nemesis.

  There was only one thing to do now.

  I took out my phone and dialed my brother.

  “Stefan,” I said when he picked up. “Can you send a car for me?”

  Ford

  Chapter 20

  Roxana hadn’t changed one iota since the last time I’d seen her.

  I narrowed my eyes at the birthday girl, who was sitting in the VIP section—or rather, draped across the couch in the VIP section—working on her fifth cocktail of the evening. It was possible she was wearing the same tight-as-hell black bodycon dress I’d last seen her in, and she was definitely getting hammered on the same exact Ciroc & tonics—with the same four lime wedges—she always drank.

  As for the rest of the group? Same pretentious jokes about investment banking. Same bragging about their latest luxury vacations abroad. Same rude gossip about the few of our cohort who hadn’t been able to come out and celebrate Roxana for one reason or another.

  “And that was the last time Ford and I ever set foot in the French Riviera!” Claudia was saying too loudly, squeezing my bicep. “Wasn’t it, Ford?”

  I hadn’t even been paying attention to her story, but everyone else around us was laughing, so all I could do was nod and force a laugh of my own. “That’s right.”

  The whole night I’d felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, and not in a good way.

  When Claudia had suggested meeting up with the old crew for Roxana’s birthday, I’d been thrilled. I’d really thought that getting together with everyone would be a relief. Remind me of simpler times, get my mind off all the bullshit. It had been months since I’d had a proper night out, and I was looking forward to just kicking back with a drink in my hand.