I took his arm and led him to the sofa. He sat and took the phone from me and just stared at the picture in silence. His face clouded with fury. It was frightening. I'd never seen him look like that.
I sat next to him, leaning forward with my hands on my knees so I could see his downturned face. "Is it her? Is it that night?"
"Fuck. Yeah, it's her." He was trembling. With either fear or rage. I wasn't sure which was the better option at that point.
"FYI, she's wearing a pink dress. You were right about that."
He didn't see the humor in it. I made him watch the show on the mounted large-screen TV. We watched it together. I actually looked better than I thought. They always say TV adds ten pounds. Call me vain, and I probably am, but I didn't want to look like a fat cow.
I almost made a quip about needing popcorn while we watched my Seattle TV debut. But I was sure Jus wouldn't have appreciated my sense of humor. I'd had all day to digest the news. He was just getting started.
He was stonily, icily silent, concentrating with an unreadable look on his face. When it was over, he flipped it off. "How did you get the picture on your phone?"
I explained how I'd talked to Sheri's assistant. "She told me Sheri has been on a rant about her show's ratings falling. And being middle-aged and needing more. Sheri wanted to do something more serious on our wedding. So she went digging for scandal. Her staff had almost given up when they found a paparazzi wannabe who'd recognized you from your many trips to the Reno facility. I guess you've been written up in the paper down there for bringing good jobs to town." I glanced at Jus. He was like a statue.
"He'd snapped the picture and hung on to it, hoping it would be worth something. When he sold it to her, he claimed he'd snapped it on the same date as our purported wedding, just hours before. And had the time stamp to prove it. Sheri was only too happy to have anything on you. I don't think she knows what's going on. But what if she keeps digging? What if she finds this woman before we do?"
We sat in silence. I didn't interrupt Justin's thoughts.
Finally, he sighed. "My PI is still working the case. This picture could be the break he needs to find her. If he circulates it…"
"He'll have to be extremely discreet." I didn't like this at all. "What if she spooks easily? If she gets wind we're looking for her, she could bolt—"
"He's the best in the business." Jus leaned back against the sofa. Finally, he turned and looked at me. "Dex and I coded a piece of facial-recognition software together in college. I can tweak it to see if I can find her." He tapped my phone. "That won't be easy, either. We only have a partial view of her face. And she's clearly in disguise."
I nodded, feeling miserable for both of us.
"Shit!" He took another deep breath. "Wall Street is analyzing our midyear numbers right now and making projections. They've been overly optimistic, in my opinion. Thinking we're going to track the success and growth rate of Amazon. We're making money, good money. But it won't matter. If we miss our targets, they'll downgrade our stock. If a scandal like this breaks, they'll really downgrade us."
He frowned. "We have to stop her." He took my hand. "If we let him in on this, Dex could help. He knows the software as well as I do."
"No!" I shook my head. "The PI—"
"Dex has a unique way of looking at things. I could use his brainpower. And he can keep his mouth shut."
Jus had the most to lose here. I had no right, really, to interfere with what he thought was the right thing to do. I swallowed hard. He was right about Dex. He could keep a secret.
I nodded. "Okay." But I still wasn't certain. "Just so you know, I'll never hear the end of it from Dex. It's a huge sacrifice on my part."
"Are you angling for more money? Don't tell me you're going to blackmail me, too?" He was so darn cute as he squeezed my hand. "Something doesn't make sense—why did the ID thief contact me, make a veiled threat, then go radio silent? Why hasn't she asked for money?"
* * *
Justin
Life is a precarious balancing act. Keep the plates spinning on each stick. Look away for a minute and lose one. Two of my spinning plates—Kay and Flash—were in danger. I would do anything to keep them. Even take the dangerous step of bringing another person into my situation.
"I knew it! I knew you'd pranked Lala into marrying you. How else could you have gotten her? But this is seriously whacked." Dex twisted the cap off his beer. "And epic. Pranking a woman into fake matrimony. You should write a book. There's a world of geeks out there who would pay for your secret."
I'd just come clean with Dex about my marriage-of-thwarting-the-ID-thief. "I didn't prank her into anything. I played on her sympathies. Now I'm paying her for her help. I hired her for a year to be my wife."
Dex raised one eyebrow and busted out laughing. "A thankless job, for sure! My cousin, the wife for hire. Shit." He paused. "Have you done her like I advised?"
I couldn't help myself. I grinned.
Dex gave me a thumbs-up. "Don't give me any details. She is my cousin. And like a sister to me." He cursed beneath his breath. "The moms are going to be so pissed with you when the divorce goes through."
I looked him in the eye. "Who says there's going to be a divorce?" I laughed. "Repeat that to Kay and I'll deny it."
"That's my man." Dex took a drink of beer and spun it to read the label. "Nice. I'll have to get me some of these." He grinned. "Or are they out of my price range?"
I shook my head at him. "Yeah, sure. It's billionaire-only beer."
He laughed. "So does this mean we're cousin-in-laws or not?"
I shrugged. "The hell if I know. It's a legal gray area."
"Oh, buddy. This is just too rich." He shook his head again. "That's a pun at your expense."
"If you have to explain a pun, it's not funny," I said.
We were drinking at my place, sitting in my office in front of the computer screen and the picture of the ID thief from Sunshine Sheri's show. Kay was out shopping and celebrating with Britt, who would be starting with Flash in two weeks. I'd wanted Kay out of the house while I talked with Dex.
"Clearly, you have a plan for winning Lala's love? And continuing this kind of, sort of marriage until death do you part." Dex was sprawled in my leather guest chair, legs spread wide. "If you find your perp, aren't you fast-tracking it to divorce court?"
I shook my head. "The postnup is ironclad. One year or no payout. Unless I change my mind."
"When hell freezes over, right?"
"You got that right." I took a long pull of beer and tapped the computer screen. "I have other reasons for delaying things."
"You mean the 30-60-90 windows for storing surveillance video until they overwrite?"
That was the thing about talking to Dex—he caught on quickly. I never needed to explain things to him. I nodded. "If the wedding chapel has pictures of the wedding on their security feeds…"
I felt the anger burbling up and took a deep breath to calm down. "I'm stalling. It's only been fifteen days. I need at least fifteen more. Then I'm going to bury her."
"I don't suppose you noticed the cameras? Things like were there any, were they obviously working, how ancient were they, that kind of thing?" Dex gave me a look that wasn't hopeful.
"My man in Reno has investigated. The wedding chapel has cameras in the lobby, none in the actual chapel. All the cameras are old-school videotape that's overwritten on a thirty-day cycle. We can't hack them. Believe me, I've fantasized about it."
Dex frowned. "Too damn bad. You must have been totally shitfaced to confuse that chick for Lala. My cousin is hot. This girl"—he pointed at my computer—"eh."
"Yeah." I still hadn't remembered more than snatches from that night. "What can I say? Alcohol goggles." I stared at the screen with him. "You've seen The Hangover. All the crazy shit that can happen when you're drunk and high. How you can completely forget it all. I'm convinced she drugged me."
Dex grunted. "The Hangover is a comedy."
"So is this—a black comedy."
Dex grinned. "It's a good thing I'm an old softie. And you're better than any guy Lala would pick on her own. I don't half mind being related to you by fake marriage and prankery. In the interests of my family, and my personal code of ethics and friendship, I'm honor-bound to help you."
He laughed. "This is going to be fun. First things first"—he pointed at my screen—"that picture is a piece of crap as far as using our software. We might be able to make do. If we have to. You've approached the guy who shot that? He could have more. Better shots. You'll have to pay, of course."
"I have another picture. A better picture," I said. "Kay doesn't know about it. This is just between us. Between the two shots, our software will have a better chance of finding her." I brought up the second picture.
Dex whistled softly, impressed.
"I've been running the second picture for about a week. No hits. The woman's good." I leaned back in my desk chair and downed a good portion of my beer, reveling in the relaxing buzz. I'd been too stressed lately. "What I didn't bring up is that there's a huge risk that the photographer's in on this scam, too. That I was set up. This is the ID thief's way of extorting more cash and skirting the law, staying anonymous and just inside the bounds. Presumably, if she's the one who directed the sale of this picture, it's a subtle threat without a paper trail. She's expecting me to pay big for the rest."
"That would be cunning of her." Dex casually leaned forward and studied her pictures onscreen. "That would be exceptionally cunning of her. I could almost admire her guts and style."
I nodded. "If it weren't being used to con me. The thing is, she can't have known who I was from the beginning or she would have married me under her real name. She, and her partner, if she has one, are working on the fly now. They'll screw up somewhere, if they haven't already."
"Are you going to bite and make an offer on some photos?" Dex's gaze was intelligent and piercing. He obviously had an opinion. This was like a test.
"I can't in under any circumstance, ever, admit I didn't marry the real Kayla. The whole house of cards falls apart if I do. I can't even hint at it."
Dex leaned forward. "So the answer is no?"
I didn't bother answering. It was a rhetorical question.
"If you're right, and she's behind it, you're taking a chance she'll escalate," Dex said.
"If she had something concrete, she would have come straight at me with it." I finished my beer, craving another.
"You could send a representative. Someone you trust who could front a plausible story." He raised an eyebrow and pointed at himself. "I could go as myself, Lala's cousin and your friend. I would claim she's embarrassed by them and furious and wants them out of circulation. That she's willing to pay."
I shook my head. "You obviously haven't been under the media's microscope. If it gets out Kay or I am willing to pay for such benign pictures, we'll have targets on our back. There will be photographers jumping out at us from everywhere."
Dex nodded, deep in thought. "You're right. You're taking a calculated risk. The problem for blackmailers is simple—if they make good on their threats and release what they have on you, they've lost their cash cow."
I nodded.
"What are you going to do?" Dex said.
"We have to find her and stop her. And stall as long as we can. Fifteen more days and she won't be able to prove she was the one I married. Sixty to ninety and she won't have any hotel video to use against me. As in, billionaire breaking vows on wedding night."
Dex shook his head. "When you fuck up, you really fuck up." He sounded impressed.
I shot him a dark look. "Got any good ideas?"
Dex pursed his lips and broke into a grin. "A few."
Chapter Five
Kayla
When we "got married," Jus had promised that he travelled most of the time. I would hardly feel married because he would be gone so often. I didn't know if he'd stayed in town on purpose the first two weeks of our married life. Or whether life and circumstances just lined up that way. But he made good on his promise the Monday after I had lunch with Britt celebrating her job offer from Flash. On Sunday afternoon, he announced he was flying out early the next morning on business to a bunch of locations. He'd arranged for Ophie to email me his itinerary and update me with any changes. Which were likely. Business meetings were rearranged, cancelled, or postponed all the time. Especially among the powerful.
Great. Just what I needed. Ophie more in the know about what Jus was up to than I was. Knowledge was power. And in this case, I really hated relinquishing it. To Ophie, of all people. Unfortunately, I couldn't see any way around it. Ophie had been perfectly pleasant to me. But I didn't trust her as a matter of the basic principles of love, war, and marriage. It wasn't rocket science—never trust a woman who wants your husband.
"I'll be back for the Fourth of July." Jus zipped his suitcase closed and looked around for his phone charger, distracted by packing.
"You'd better be. It's nearly two weeks away!" I watched him throw more chargers and accessories in his leather computer bag. "And a Friday night. I need a date."
Jus grinned at me, pleased by my outburst. "I'll hurry back as soon as I can."
I should have been relieved he was going. I needed time to think and sort out my feelings. When Jus was around things were complicated, to say the least. My heart didn't know what it was doing. And couldn't make up its mind about how it felt about him. Crazy, but I was already missing him. And he wasn't even gone yet.
I had a sudden inspiration. "We should throw a party for the Fourth here at the penthouse!"
My friends would love it. It would give me a chance to show off and really sell this marriage to them again. Happy domestic life as the billionaire's wife! Wasn't that sweet?
When again would I have a 360 view of the firework displays across the entire region—Seattle, Issaquah, south to Renton, and beyond. Not to mention we weren't more than a thousand yards or so away from the Bellevue show. More than half the time, it rained in Seattle on the Fourth. We joked that summer never started around here until July fifth. Having a warm, comfortable place and plenty of expensive booze was an added bonus enticement.
Jus shook his head. "Riggins always hosts a Fourth of July bash on his yacht. We boat around the sound all afternoon, eating and drinking. Then we park and watch the fireworks over Elliott Bay. With more eating and drinking. Attendance is mandatory. I've already accepted his invitation."
Did my face fall? It must have.
Jus pulled me into a hug. "Maybe next year we can coordinate with Riggins."
"Next year we'll be divorced." The words popped out of my mouth before I thought about them. They sounded harsh and hard-edged. And almost petulant.
Jus cleared his throat and looked away, embarrassed. "Yeah."
I sighed. As far as holidays, it was one and done around here. I had to make every holiday fabulous and full of memories before I left. Make the most out of this billionaire lifestyle. Although getting used to it probably wasn't the best idea.
Jus took the car service to the airport the next day. I got up and saw him off at the door with a kiss that was more than perfunctory on my part.
And I was on my own for two solitary weeks. So I thought. As it turned out, I had no time to grow bored. My days were completely booked. Compliments of my savvy personal assistant, Andrea. Meetings with the hospital's charitable board. Meetings at Flash with the buyers, arranging and organizing the samples that would be available for sale. Coordinating volunteer signups for the sale. Meetings with donors and caterers. Florists. Friends. Shopping.
Magda and I grew closer. Maybe it wasn't good to get too friendly with the help. But I couldn't resist. When I got her going, she talked about Jus, always glowing about what a considerate employer he was. How he'd given her a large bonus when she needed help with her daughter's medical bills after a motorcycle accident. Really, did Jus have any faults?
More and mo
re I felt like I was in a modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice. Where Lizzie finds out the true, caring character of Mr. Darcy. Why, he wasn't proud at all! Only in my case it was more like Geek and Great Guy. Everywhere I turned, people loved and admired Jus.
The part-time maid came and went, tidying up after me. But she rarely spoke. I never got to know her.
Even through all the busyness, I missed Jus. And so did poor little Data. She moped around and looked expectantly toward the door every time someone came or went.
On Monday night, I replaced Jus in bed with his pillow, curling up next to it as I lay awake in bed. How could I have gotten so used to his presence in just a few weeks? Outside my door, Data whimpered and cried, refusing to sleep. I relented and took her into bed with me, letting her sleep curled at the foot of the bed. It was a dangerous precedent to set, but without it, neither of us was going to get any sleep.
Concerned, the next day I asked Magda about it. "What does Jus usually do with Data when he's gone? Is he aware she cries all night?"
"Mr. Justin hasn't had Data long," she told me. "When he's gone at night, I take her home with me."
So there it was. Mystery solved. I was relieved. I didn't like the thought of Data all alone and crying, during the day or during the night. And so I indulged myself in carrying out the threat I'd made when I first met Data—I bought a dog purse. Because, yes, rich people must carry their dogs around in purses or they break the stereotype. And besides, it was a simple kind of evil fun to imagine Justin's response when he got home.
I mentioned, partly in jest, the struggles of trying to find a doggy purse that coordinated with my outfits to Marla on one of my visits to Flash.
"A doggy and me event!" Marla gave me a thumbs-up. "That's brilliant! We'll see what we can do."
Two days later, Marla called and asked me to bring Data in for photo shoot for one of Flash's upcoming events featuring fashion accessories for pets. For my trouble, I walked away with several rhinestone collars and leashes for Data. Jus was so going to kill me over the chickification of his dog.
For Richer, for Richest Page 6