The Worst Best Man

by Lucy Score

  “And I forgave him. You should try it sometime.”

  Frankie snorted and stabbed her straw into her glass of ice. “Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice…”

  “Do you think relationships mean never screwing up at all?” Pru asked. “The insult was against me, the damage was done to me, and I’ve forgiven him. Why can’t you?”

  “Because you always had a soft heart. If I were you, I never would have forgiven Chip.”

  “And where would I be then? Not married to a man who makes me laugh every day. Not picking paint swatches for the nursery. Not sitting across from my best friend in the world desperately trying to show her what doors forgiveness opens. I could have played it safe. I could have married some boring guy who let me call every shot. But what kind of life is that when there’s never any risk of getting hurt?”

  Frankie stared down at the table, wishing Pru’s words weren’t landing direct hit after direct hit. “Being in a relationship with Aiden was so hard,” she said lamely.

  “It’s not like you were doing yourself any favors there. You fought him every step of the way. You were just waiting for him to disappoint you, to give you the excuse you were looking for to leave.”

  “I was not,” Frankie argued.

  “Now you’re lying to yourself.”

  “All in,” Frankie whispered. Had she ever really been all in? She’d made the commitment, but had she really acted on it?

  “You’re the most loyal person I know, Frankie. Why can’t you be loyal to him? Why can’t you fight for him? Who does Aiden have in his corner that he can count on? Who has his back? You should have been out there attacking Margeaux. Instead, you holed up and hid yourself away.”

  Vinnie returned with a steaming pie. He dumped plates in front of them. “Enjoy, ladies.”

  Frankie stared at the swirl of sauce over bubbling cheese.

  “I love him so much it scares me,” she admitted, her voice low and shaky. She brought her gaze up. “I love him so much I can’t breathe because I feel like a piece of me is missing.”

  “You are so damn stubborn,” Pru said with a sliver of sympathy. “You’d ruin this just to be right.”

  The guilt in Frankie’s gut stood up and saluted in recognition.

  “My feelings for him terrify me. I’m living a nightmare. And it’s all too late. He stopped texting, stopped sending me things. It’s like I don’t even exist to him anymore.”

  Pru slid a slice onto her plate and reached for the oregano. “Then maybe it’s time you reminded him that you exist.”

  Chapter Sixty

  It took her an entire twenty-four hours to formulate a plan. And when she had it organized in her head, she started with Pru. Collecting names and numbers, making connections. She lunched with celebutantes, met with servers and maids and personal assistants in alleys by recycling bins, and pled her case.

  They didn’t all say yes, but enough did. And what they gave her would have to be enough to put it all into action.

  When the chips were down, when there was a real chance at karmic retribution, women banded together.

  She took everything they gave her and, pushing aside her now defunct thesis project notes, started a brand-new project.

  Every word that she typed, every piece of information she gathered, she fit into the larger puzzle making her feel more hopeful, more in control. And when she was finally certain she had enough, she made one more phone call.

  “Davenport, it’s me Frankie. Do you still have that video from Barbados?”

  --------

  Frankie couldn’t sleep. She kept checking her phone to see if the gossip blogs had picked up the news yet. And when it finally landed on her newsfeed at seven, she danced a boogie in her kitchen.

  There, on screens across the city, Margeaux screamed obscenities and drunkenly brawled in the pool with Taffany. There were hundreds of comments with more pouring in every minute.

  Frankie danced over to the whiteboard she’d set up in her living room.

  Step One: Discredit Marge.

  She crossed it off with a flourish. And eyeballed step two. She was going to need some armor for this one.

  She plucked the gift card off the board and dialed.

  “Hi, I was wondering if Christian could squeeze me in today? I’m going to war.”

  An hour later, she was in a swiveling chair in front of a gilt framed mirror in a salon she couldn’t afford. Christian was frowning at her tresses as he shoved his fingers through them. “You were supposed to come back last month,” he chastised her.

  “I didn’t have to go into battle last month. Make me gorgeous and invincible.”

  Christian snapped his finger in the air. “Makeup!”

  She kept an eye on her bag next to Christian’s workstation as he and his minions set about endowing her with female weaponry. The smokey eye, contoured cheekbones, those gorgeous lowlights, and finally a blow out that made her look like she belonged in the red dress. If this didn’t crush her enemy like a bug and prove irresistible to Aiden, she was going to swing by the shelter and get her first two cats… and then ask Gio if she could move in with him since she could no longer afford rent with no job and no degree.

  Great. Really solid Plan B. But she was hoping that there’d be no need for it. She had a lot—everything—riding on Plan A.

  “Christian? Christian’s miracle workers?” she said, looking at the stranger in the mirror. “You guys are the shit.”

  She high-fived them down the line and handed over Aiden’s gift card. Christian shoved an appointment card at her. “See you in six weeks.”

  “I’ll be here,” she said decisively. Positive mental attitude. She would win. Or she’d be curled in the fetal position being eaten by cats.

  “Wish me luck!”

  “Good luck!” they chorused after her as she strode out the door and into battle.

  He was already there waiting for her at the bar. A double of something in front of him despite the fact that it was barely 11 in the morning.

  “Good morning, Elliot,” she said, sliding onto the stool next to him.

  The younger Kilbourn straightened in his seat, leering at her cleavage. “I had a feeling I’d be hearing from you again. What can I do for you? Help you get revenge on brother dearest?” He straightened his tie.

  “Oooh. I’m afraid you’re about to be very disappointed,” Frankie said, unpacking a file from her bag. She slid it across to him. “Here. This is for you.”

  With still too much confidence, Elliot flipped open the folder. It took a full four seconds for its contents to sink in. His eyes widened, pupils dilating. “What is this?” he demanded.

  “This is every dirty deed I could dig up on you over the past ten years. I don’t know what Boris Donaldson has on you, but I’m willing to bet it’s somewhere in this file.”

  “How do you know about Boris?” he asked, scrambling through the photos, the photocopies, and the interviews.

  “You pushed for him for CFO despite the fact that he’s currently under investigation for fraud and, as of about ten minutes ago, embezzlement.”

  “What?” He reached for his drink and drank it down.

  “Well, what kind of investigation would I be doing if I didn’t pry into my boyfriend’s enemies? You people will never understand that your underlings see and hear things that your dirty money can’t cover up. By the way, the SEC’s anonymous tip website is so easy to navigate. Now, let’s talk about you.”

  He was flipping through papers alternately going beet red and ashen.

  “You’ve been a very naughty boy. Using your expense account to pay for prescription drugs and lap dances. Side note, they’re not actually into you. Then there’s these sticky consent cases that you paid off. Anything other than a yes is a no, Elliot. All of that I almost expected from you. But what even I was surprised by was you bringing a male prostitute back to your then-girlfriend’s apartment and—”


  He slapped the bar. “She signed a non-disclosure agreement! I paid her!”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Frankie said, laying on the phony sympathy. “She signed a non-disclosure, but her doorman and housekeeper and personal chef didn’t.”

  He swore. “I’ll sue. I’ll sue you for defamation.”

  “Then Chip will press charges for abducting him. That’s a felony, by the way. And I don’t think your defense is going to be able to come up with any character witnesses for you. Not with all of this in your history,” she said, tapping the file.

  He picked up the file and ripped it in half.

  Frankie sighed. “Is this a temper tantrum? Because you know I have copies of copies of copies.”

  He braced his elbows on the bar and put his face in his hands. She didn’t feel the tiniest bit of guilt.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “I’m glad you asked. It’s very simple. I want you to leave Aiden alone. Permanently. You don’t have a blackmailer to pay off anymore. You’re welcome, by the way. So, you can have a fresh start. Step down from the company, stop acting like a fuck-up, and don’t so much as glance in Aiden’s direction except for the occasional uncomfortable family dinner. Got it?”

  “If I do what you want, what will you do with this?” he asked, pointing at the shredded paper.

  “I’m going to hang on to it, very quietly. But if you step a fucking toe out of line if you take advantage of one more woman or buy one more bottle of pills, I’ll know. And I’ll go to every gossip blogger and society journalist in the country with this dirty little packet. Imagine what your mother would think. Or worse, your father. You’re at my mercy. And with the SEC taking out your blackmail buddy, you basically just won the lottery today. Don’t fuck it up.”

  She slid off her stool and straightened her dress.

  “Do we have a deal?” she asked.

  He nodded glumly.

  “Good. Now, there’s just one more thing.” She picked up his drink and tossed it in his face. “That’s for every one of these women. Be better from now on.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  “Your one o’clock is here,” Oscar announced, poking his head in Aiden’s office doorway.

  “My what?” Aiden looked at his open calendar on his monitor. Who the hell was he supposed to—

  She walked in wearing the red dress that haunted his dreams.

  Aiden wasn’t even aware that he’d risen from his desk so suddenly that his chair went spinning behind him.

  “Franchesca?”

  Had he finally lost his damn mind? Was he missing her so much he was now hallucinating her instead of catching the ghost of her scent, the echo of her laughter?

  “May I come in?” she asked.

  It felt as if a bolt of lightning struck the carpet that separated them. The room was charged with electricity. He knew by the parting of her lips, by the guarded expression on her face, that she felt it too.

  It was pathetic how grateful he felt just to see her again. His heart pounded in his chest as if it knew that everything came down to the next few minutes of his life. And he wasn’t in control.

  Franchesca was.

  Oscar quietly shut the door, and Aiden knew it must have cost him dearly.

  “Of course,” Aiden said gruffly. He wanted to cross to her, to take her in his arms and bury his face in her hair. Instead, he gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please. Sit.”

  She sat, crossing one leg neatly over the other, and he went rigidly hard. His cock had no shame. The woman who had destroyed him, who had turned the life he’d built into an empty shell, still made him want.

  He’d crawl to her if he thought for a second it would work. But Frankie didn’t want a man who crawled.

  “I have a proposition for you,” she began, slipping a folder from her bag.

  She handed it to him across the desk, and when their fingers brushed, he knew without a doubt this woman would never leave his system. A storm was brewing between them, and he only hoped that when it broke, he wouldn’t be alone.

  “I’m listening,” he said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He pulled his chair back and sank into it.

  If she noticed, she didn’t let on. Frankie cleared her throat. “Okay, there’s a new gap in small business services in Brooklyn. I know the neighborhoods, I know the business owners. They need guidance, mentoring. They need education. They need loans and grants.”

  She was pitching him a fucking business proposal?

  “I know you, Aiden. I know that all levels of entrepreneurship interest you. And it could start here,” she flipped to a page in his packet and tapped a finger on a map of her parents’ neighborhood. “Six storefronts are for sale on this block alone. The buildings themselves need some work, but they’ve got good bones. Most of the apartments are rented.”

  She talked real estate and revitalization, and Aiden felt his interest pique despite his profound disappointment.

  She had photos of the street, detailed maps of neighborhood parking, the real estate listings, rental unit potential, and even an itemized list of types of stores that were missing from the neighborhood.

  She talked about weekend farmers markets, about block parties and restaurants with outdoor seating. She painted a pretty picture.

  “You could make a difference one city block at a time. You don’t have that kind of real estate potential here in Manhattan. Not anymore. Think of the communities you could build, the small businesses you could support and watch grow. You’d need a development center. Something that could guide new businesses and help older owners take advantage of new technologies.”

  “And who would manage it?” he asked.

  “Me.”

  Aiden’s gaze flew to her face. “You’re asking me for a job?” He didn’t know whether to be impressed or furious.

  “Oh, Aide, I want you to give me a lot more than that.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Her heart hadn’t stopped hammering against her ribs since she walked in here. Seeing him was hard. So impossibly hard. He was just as beautiful as before. But there was a wall between them. One that she had built. One that was up to her to tear down.

  Frankie took a deep breath and took the plunge.

  “I let you down, Aiden. And I’m having trouble forgiving myself.”

  “And you think me giving you a job will make you feel better?” he asked in confusion. He didn’t even sound angry. But she had to appeal to all of him, starting with the successful entrepreneur driven to win at all costs.

  “You need me, Aiden. And damn it, I need you. Not your money. Not your family connections. You.”

  He was watching her intently now, and she watched him back, noticed him carefully hide the spark of hope behind those cool blue eyes.

  “You’re thoughtful. You listen, really listen. You’re smart and charming and funny and surprisingly sweet. You’re so fucking generous I worry that you’re going to get hurt.”

  She couldn’t catch her breath. The words were spilling faster and faster from her lips. She reached into her bag and her fingers closed around the next part of her plan.

  “No one’s ever touched me the way you do. No one’s ever loved me the way you do. And I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” Her voice broke, and she saw his knuckles whiten as he closed his hands into fists.

  With a shaky breath, she pushed herself out of her chair and walked around his desk on jelly legs. She knelt down in front of him and held up the jeweler box.

  His face gave nothing away, so she popped the lid of the box revealing the simple gold band. “It was my grandfather’s,” she whispered. “It’s nothing fancy. But it’s family, loyalty, love. And I can give you all that. So marry me, Aiden. Be with me. Give me forever.”

  She held her breath and blinked back the tears that were threatening to overflow her lashes.

  “What about Chip and
Pru?” he asked, staring at the band.

  “The truth is, I had more trouble forgiving myself than I did you. I was looking for an excuse to end it, to be right, because I didn’t want to get hurt. And I ended up hurting us both. Also, Pru called me the Upper West Side version of a chicken shit, and I hate when she’s right.”

  She saw the ghost of a smile play at the corners of his mouth, and her heart sang with hope.

  “What about my family?” he asked. “They’ll always be a problem.”

  “I have a feeling there will be less drama. I’ve discovered that I fit in quite well with manipulative backstabbers.”

  “You’re going to have to explain that cryptic statement,” he said, reaching for her, his hands closing over her wrists. He stood, pulling her to her feet.

  “First, answer me, please. Then I’ll tell you anything you want. Will you marry me, Aide? Will you take me as I am? Forgive me for being stubborn and proud and so very, very wrong? Because, damn it, Aiden, you fit in my life like you’re the missing piece. I can fit into yours, too. I want you for an ally, a partner. I was wrong to hold back, wrong to be looking for a way out. And I’m so fucking sorry. But I promise you from this day forward, I will be your partner, and we can build something beautiful together. And I swear to you I will always, always, have your back.”

  She was shaking, with love, with fear, with hope.

  Aiden nudged her chin higher and looked her in the eyes.

  “We can’t both be chicken shits, now can we?”

  “Aide, if you don’t give me a yes or a no right now, I swear to God I’m going to ruin your life like I just ruined your brother’s.”

  He grinned down at her, the full wattage that made her weak in the knees.

  “It’s always been yes with you, Franchesca. There is no one I’d rather have in my corner.”

  “Yes?” she repeated.

  He nodded. “Yes, and the sooner, the better.”