I close my eyes, wishing she were in front of me so I could throttle her. What the hell was she thinking, for God’s sake?
“For the first few weeks, he was really great to her. He found her a job at his company and gave her a private suite in his house. Loaned her money to buy work clothes. Took her out to dinner and clubs. She thought she was Cinderella. Until one day he told her she owed him a debt, and she had to pay it off by satisfying his perverted needs.” Tara’s big brown eyes grow round and troubled. “Basically, to let him beat and rape her.”
My teeth are clenched so hard that it’s a miracle my jaw doesn’t crack open like a walnut under pressure. “What’s his name?”
“Rico Holland. He’s a—”
She stops short, going pale when she no doubt sees the murderous look on my face. I knew she was going to say it, but hearing it from her lips definitely fans my desire to end that piece-of-shit Holland. “Go on.”
“Um,” her voice falters, “he’s a hotelier. Anyway, she fled from him as soon as she could, but he’d sworn to her that if she tried to escape from him, he’d track her down wherever she went. But she managed to elude him without even leaving Chicago. He’d never known our real identities because she was smart enough not to ever tell him.”
“Well, there’s that, I suppose.”
“The problem was he saw a wedding photo of the two of you and recognized her. And apparently made plans. She was standing on the balcony of the house where the party was held, waiting for you, and he came up behind her and slipped a big knife under her sweater. He threatened her, saying if she didn’t comply, he’d plunge it into her heart right there and then. She looked around and saw you walking out of the house. She couldn’t find her bodyguard either. And Rico threatened her multiple times with multiple things.
“Somehow, a stranger, a man, saw what was happening and followed them out. He disabled Rico and let Marley get away. She came here for the night and left the next day for parts unknown. That’s all I could tell you.”
“So I’m supposed to swallow this story? That Marley is nothing but an innocent in all of this?”
Fire flashes in her eyes, yet all she does is smile. That smile, however, is saturated with venom. “You know what? I don’t give a good goddamn what you believe, dude. You came here and demanded answers, and I’m giving them to you. It’s not my fault you don’t like them. God. Poor Marley for having to put up with you for so long. Thank God she doesn’t have to anymore.”
“I’d love to believe your narrative, Tara, but the timeline isn’t working out for me. Marley had to be in league with Holland, both of them out to do me harm. I have proof positive that Holland didn’t find Marley by seeing a wedding photo of us—”
“That is what Rico himself told Marley,” she interrupts.
“His man was masquerading as one of her clients long before I came into the picture.”
The astonishment on Tara’s face is real. This obviously comes as news to her. “You’re shitting me. Which client, do you know?”
I run my tongue over my teeth, trying to figure out what’s true and what’s a lie. It’s not easy. For a minute, I’ll go with my gut and trust Tara, see where it leads. “The one who wanted the exclusive arrangement with her.”
“So he was setting her up all along? You must have fouled up his plans by marrying her.”
It’s stifling in here—the heat must be cranked up. It’s not that cold out yet. I shrug off my suit jacket, parking my hands on my hips. “See, the reason that doesn’t fly is that Rico Holland has been trying to do a hostile takeover of my company for the past year and a half. I met Marley barely six months ago. He had plenty of time to get at her before we were married. Either she’s working with Holland, or we just happened to get together—in all of Chicago, two people that Holland was going after individually? What are the odds?”
She sits there, shaking her head and staring into space. Sasquatch decides he’s had enough of neglect and hurls his clumsy little body into her lap. She starts to laugh and scratches him behind his ears. “Couldn’t it be a big fat coincidence?”
“I’m not a big believer in those.”
“Well…” She sighs, kisses the puppy’s head, and puts him back on the floor. “I can’t explain the timeline, but I can promise you that Marley is innocent of any wrongdoing. She was just trying to make a living, and the last thing she’d ever do is let Rico Holland back into her life. The man terrorized her.”
“Where is Marley now?”
Tara swings her head from side to side, but I can see in her eyes that she knows. “Tara, she could be in danger. Would Priscilla know?”
“Priscilla went back to France. Yesterday, as a matter of fact.”
“Did she know any of this incident?”
She sighs in defeat. “Yes, I think she gave Marley a fake ID so that she could travel around the country. She might be able to give you the name she’s using. And I’m only telling you this because I’m worried about Marley. I couldn’t give a damn if you lose sleep over it because you certainly deserve it, dude. Just sayin’.”
“If it turns out that I’m wrong about Marley, then I suppose I deserve that and more. I’ll be in touch. Are you still using your phone?”
“Yes, but not for calls from Marley.”
Her words catch my attention. “You have another phone for calls from Marley?”
Guilty eyes. Chewing her lip. No answer.
“Can I have that phone?”
She laughs bitterly. “No fucking way. It’s not even here in this loft.”
She’s totally lying, but I’m not going to press the issue at the moment. I may have to return and tear the place apart looking for the damn thing. “Okay, I have your number. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thank you.”
Sharp little teeth attack my ankle, and I bend down to pat the puppy’s head. “I like the name. He does have big feet.”
She hunches her shoulders up, and I see a smile worming its way onto her face. Nothing faster to a woman’s heart than admiring her dog or cat. Any smart man knows that right out of the gate.
33
Marley Jacobs
I lower the taco and turn my head. I can’t believe who I’m seeing.
“Marley, that is you. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
“Rafe. What are you doing on the West Coast?”
“Business. And you?”
A little voice inside my head tells me to lie. “Visiting friends.” I hold up the taco. “This place has great food.”
“Yeah” —he looks around the room— “so I hear. Hey, can I join you?”
“Um, sure.”
He gestures to Pedro and rattles off an order without even looking at a menu. Has he eaten here before? I suppose I should wait until his food arrives to continue eating.
“Please eat. If you wait for me, your food will get cold.”
Smiling, I bring the taco to my mouth and take a much smaller bite than I had originally planned. “So how long are you here?”
“Only till the weekend. I have an executive dinner to attend on Friday night. Hey” —he snaps his fingers— “why don’t you come with me? That is, if your husband wouldn’t object.”
I puff out my cheeks and audibly blow out a deep breath. “He definitely would. We’re separated, but he doesn’t want me working in that capacity anymore. For obvious reasons.”
“Oh? Sorry to hear that. How about using a disguise? I’m sure you could use some extra cash. I’ll pay you five grand for the evening. Four hours tops. It’s a great deal.”
It is a great deal, and I could use the money. I definitely do not want to ask Creed for another cent. And how would he know? I have the black wig from Cilla, and Rafe will probably agree to buy me an outfit. I could make myself up to look completely different. “I’d have to avoid any photos being taken of me, or I’m dead in the water.”
“That works for me. I’ll make sure none are taken of you.”
<
br /> “Well, that’s not really possible when everyone has a camera within easy grasp. But we could try, right?”
His smile spreads across his entire face. I’ve never seen Rafe look so happy. “Yes, we could. So it’s a date?”
I nod. “It’s a date. The only issue is that I don’t have the appropriate clothing with me. How should I dress anyway?”
“The way you usually do. Here…” He takes out a black American Express card. “Buy what you want, and you can give me my card back on Friday. Are we good?”
“We’re good. Where do I meet you?”
“I’ll pick you up.”
After we finish the meal, Rafe calls for an Uber and takes me back to my hotel. I’m breaking my rules by driving with him and also letting him know where I’m staying, but Rafe will be gone by Saturday. Plus, I could always go to a different hotel. It might be fun to hotel hop, as a matter of fact.
Today is Wednesday so I have three days to shop for the outfit. I’ll start with the dress. I go to a department store—it’s in walking distance from my hotel—but find nothing I like, so the next day I head over to a boutique I’ve been passing every day on my way over to the nearest Starbucks. Maybe I’ll find the perfect frock there.
“That looks so freaking fantastic on you.” The young saleswoman is standing right behind me, too close actually, and smiling. The dress is $2200, and I told her I also needed lingerie and stockings to go with it. She smells a hefty commission, so she’s hovering over me so that the other two salespeople can’t get near me.
“You think?” I ask, my eyes glued to the mirror. I know I like the dress.
“Definitely. And the bra and panties I selected for you are almost the same color—just a lighter shade.”
The dress is a grayish blue, off the shoulder with a band of diaphanous fabric around the bosom and upper arms that looks almost like a mini cape. It hits my legs at mid-calf and has a ruffle cascading down the back starting below the waistline. I stare at myself in the mirror, loving the way the dress both hugs and swishes. “Yeah, this is the one. Do you have a sterling silver necklace that hangs in front and back? This dress shows a lot of skin, so I think it would look good with something like that. The more delicate, the better.”
“Omigod, I have just the one.”
She brings me a necklace to try, and it is exactly what I envisioned. I buy the dress, necklace, bra, panties, and silk thigh-highs—one stop shopping—and the saleswoman is positively gleeful as she rings up the sale. Well, good for her. I hope Rafe doesn’t mind how much I’ve spent. I admit I went a little overboard.
I still need shoes, but I’m tired. I decide to deal with it tomorrow. I go back to my hotel and take a long nap. Afterward, I order food from room service and eat in bed while I’m watching a movie. I feel a bit of my depression lifting. It’s amazing how much a familiar face can raise a girl’s spirits. Rafe has done that for me.
By noon the next day, I’m sashaying down Melrose with the most beautiful peek-toe silvery blue shoes. I don’t have the dress with me, but I’m certain it’s almost an exact match. Yay for me. I clapped my hands in glee when the salesman brought them to me and they slipped on like a glove. I can’t believe how easy I found them, and they are a bargain at three hundred—well, a bargain when someone else is paying for them. Now I just have to pop into Sephora and get some makeup and maybe some temporary hair color in case I decide not to wear the wig.
Sephora yields me silver, blue, and cream eyeshadow, black eyeliner, a bronzer, mineral powder foundation, and a new peachy lipstick although I usually end up wearing my go-to shade of cherry red regardless of what new colors I buy. I cram it all into my old makeup bag when I get back to my hotel, thinking I need a new—and larger—bag.
Ten minutes before I have to go down to meet my car, I put on the finishing touches to my makeup and slip into the dress and shoes. Instead of the black wig, I’ve put some dark streaks into my blond hair, pulling it back tightly into a braided bun to give my face a slightly different shape and no doubt a bad headache later.
Then I did very dramatic eyes with silver and blue with lots of black eyeliner and darkened my eyebrows too. Using a makeup trick, I made my cheekbones look dramatically higher and outlined my lipstick to give the illusion of larger lips.
I think I look like a different person. Let’s hope everyone else does too.
My only regret is not buying earrings. If I’d had the presence of mind to buy huge sparkly earrings, it would take attention off my face a bit more. But it’s too late now, and the only earrings I have are my diamond studs so I wear them.
I ring for the elevator, wishing I’d brought my clutch purse with me rather than packing it at Tara’s. It would go perfect with this outfit. I couldn’t find a similar one yesterday so I had to buy a black satin envelope-style handbag that barely fits my phone and lipstick. I also slipped in some twenties. It’s the size of a clutch, but it does have a silver chain strap that I could wear across my body. Just in case I have to run.
You never know.
Ding.
I step into a crowded elevator and watch the numbers as they scroll down to the lobby. When I get outside, there’s my car.
Traffic in Los Angeles, I’m fast learning, is always terrible. It takes us almost an hour to get to a venue that at most should be twenty minutes away. I spot Rafe standing near the entrance, clad in all black—suit, shirt, and tie. Like armor for a villain. For a minute his appearance takes me aback because he doesn’t look like my usual Rafe.
“Wow, you look spectacular, Marley,” he says after opening my door and helping me out of the car.
I take another look at his attire. “You look a little rakish tonight—all in black.”
He laughs heartily. “I guess I’m tired of the good-guy look. It was time to let my hair down, so to speak.”
In answer I muster a smile and take his arm. I’m excited about tonight because it’s taking my mind off my troubles and allowing me to have some fun without denting my money reserves. Plus, Rafe is decent company even if he’s not going to win any prize for congeniality.
The evening event is being held at the Four Seasons under a canopy al fresco. “Nice,” I remark.
“Yeah. I thought afterward we’d go to Skybar for some drinks. Sound good?”
I beam at him. “It sounds so good. Oh, by the way…” I open my bag and remove his credit card. “I believe this is yours. I hope you don’t mind the dents in it, so to speak.”
“How could I mind when you look like you do? I’d have to be the stingiest man on the planet.”
I should have done the exclusive arrangement with Rafe and told Fletcher to go to hell. And Rafe was extremely disappointed that I married. He’s such a nice guy.
The second course is being served when Rafe excuses himself. “I’ll be right back. I just need to make a quick phone call.”
“Sure, take your time.” I’m enjoying getting tipsy on good champagne while also people watching. Everyone looks so beautiful. Lots of male attention coming my way too, which boosts my ego—these men are used to beautiful and glamorous women, so managing to snag their notice is pretty good.
I’m not expecting it so I jolt when the burner phone in my handbag chirps. It can only be Tara or Cilla, so I should take it. I slip out the phone and angle my body so I can speak privately away from the other diners at our table.
“Hello.”
“Marley, it’s Tara. I need to speak with you.”
Her voice sounds funny. My hackles rise, and I feel a tingle of alarm skim across my skin. “What’s going on?”
“First tell me that you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.”
“Where are you right now? Are you at your hotel?”
“No, I’m at a dinner.” Why is she asking these odd questions? “Are you on speaker?”
“Yeah. Who are you with, Marls?”
All of a sudden, I hear some commotion, some background murmuring, and then a vo
ice that I never expected to hear. Not now.
Not ever again.
“Marley, this is Fletcher. Please tell me that you’re not with Rafe Hendel.”
34
Fletcher Creed
The minute I got the whole story from Tara, I headed straight to Priscilla Vasquez’s home. Tara told the truth when she said her friend had left for France the night before. Fortunately for me, Priscilla’s mother was home and put me on the phone with Priscilla. She confirmed what Tara had said about Marley. I asked about the ID Priscilla might have procured for Marley.
Problem was Priscilla wasn’t sharing. Dead end.
I couldn’t entirely blame Marley’s friends. After all, I’d treated her badly at the party. Reverting to my usual proud-to-be-an-asshole style, I jumped to a conclusion—the wrong one—and screwed things up badly. Marley took off like her life depended on it. And it did.
After this is all over, after I ensure that Marley is safe and sound and this douchebag Holland is dealt with, I need to come to terms with the character flaws of mine that led to a bad situation becoming far worse.
It’s past time for me to admit to myself that I have feelings for Marley. Whether or not she reciprocates those feelings, I’m not sure. And if she once did, it’s possible I wrecked it—I hope not.
Regardless of the outcome, I know that I need to deal with my own demons—my paranoia, my hair-trigger temper, and my uncontrollable jealousy. The jealousy that rises up when it comes to Marley is unprecedented in my life. Granted, I was always jealous about my girlfriends and lovers. To a small extent. I’d say a normal extent.
However, when it comes to Marley, all bets are off. I see red, and I can’t think straight. This time, it may cost me dearly. I just hope it doesn’t cost Marley dearly. My stomach is currently twisted into knots worrying about that possibility.
I head back to my office to meet up with Rick and Nathan. Cru is back at the house in case anyone shows up there. When I reach the security offices, Rick has some intel for me.
Faker: A Fake Relationship Romance Page 23