by Sierra Rose
FOR THE NEXT THREE hours, I sat on the phone with clients. Every single client, past or present, in my contact book. Every single client that wasn’t Nick Hunter.
I’d had to give all of them up when I signed up with the Hunters, but my team—Jake specifically—still maintained a small but exclusive roster in my name. Every now and again, I checked in with them personally to see how everything was going.
After the morning I’d had, I was really hoping to do more of the same. To dive into work for a while and forget about the storm brewing outside. Unfortunately, every single person I talked to, was far more interested in talking about me.
Bree Miller—a lovely actress who’d recently moved to Broadway—was a prime example. I’d hardly gotten in two sentences, before she burst in with the obvious question.
“Is it really true, Abigail?” she asked excitedly. “Are you and Nick really engaged?!”
It had to be said, no one I talked to seemed at all phased by the whole boxing ring fiasco. I supposed, when the man in question was Nick Hunter, things like that were to be expected.
Truth be told, I was a little bowled over by the overwhelming excitement and genuine good wishes that awaited me on the other end of each conversation. None of my old clients thought it was at all strange—they all wanted to know if they were invited to the wedding.
Still, it was hardly the ‘work’ distraction I was looking for, and I hung up the final phone call with a sigh of frustration. A frustration that only increased at the next thing I had to do.
“I’m taking a long lunch,” I told Allison, when I finally emerged from my office. “Do me a favor and forward any important messages to my cell, will you?”
“Of course,” she said quickly, watching with wide eyes as I slid on my coat.
The entire rest of the room had gone strangely quiet and was doing the exact same thing—their eyes trained on every single movement. Every time I glanced up, I was met with casual smiles. But the second I looked away—there were those eyes again.
I pointedly ignored them until I’d crossed the room to the elevator, but by the time the doors dinged open, the room felt like it was about to explode.
“And yes—you’re all invited to the wedding.”
The fake wedding. The wedding that was never actually going to happen.
They kept it together. Kept both professional and calm. But the second the doors dinged shut behind me, a massive cheer erupted on the thirtieth floor.
“Good afternoon,” Carl greeted me cheerfully as I headed past him out the lobby. He clearly thought it to be a funny little play on words, given my effusive greeting a few hours before, except my mood couldn’t have been any different.
I shot him a quick look, before shoving open the door.
“...is it?”
My office building happened to be only a few blocks up from Barneys. This was a most fortunate coincidence that I had taken advantage of many times over the last few years. And for the dreadful task that lay before me, I could think of no better venue.
...to find my engagement party dress.
I literally couldn’t even believe I was thinking the words. And I’m not going to lie, it felt a lot better when it was only me thinking them—as opposed to the entire city. Still, Barneys was a place where I could forget all that. Nothing like a little retail therapy to soothe the mind.
Surely, I could find something there that would be appropriate for the occasion that wouldn’t devastate me in terms of finances in the process. As of a few days ago, I was officially saving up for a security deposit on my next apartment—thanks to a certain fiancé of mine.
That being said, there was no way in hell that Nick would ever let me pay—
A bright blue flash stopped me in my tracks. Followed quickly by another.
What the fuck?!
I stumbled back a step, blinking quickly to clear the shadowy dots that were peppering my vision. When it finally cleared enough to see, I spotted a middle-aged man kneeling on the ground just a few paces in front of me.
He was paparazzi. There was no doubt about it.
Baggy clothes. Rabid, yet lifeless eyes. Sunburned neck—except for the thick swatch of skin that lay under the strap of his camera.
For the second time that morning, I glanced instinctively behind me. Then reality smacked me upside the head, and I suddenly froze.
The guy was here for me.
....fucking bizarre.
“Miss Wilder! When’s the big day?!”
Yeah—fucking bizarre.
Imitating what I’d seen my clients do a thousand times, I held up a protective hand, lowered my face, slipped on my sunglasses, and pushed past him. On the way by, I loudly asked someone which direction Chanel was. Hopefully, that would throw him off my trail.
Sure enough, a few blocks up—he darted suddenly to the side and vanished down a docking-bay alley. Hoping to spring up in front of the store to get the best possible shot.
Little did he know, I had already reached my destination.
“...safe!”
I actually whispered it out loud as I yanked open the glass doors, and closed them quickly behind me. The smell of a thousand over-priced clothes wafted up around me, accompanied by the faint sounds of a pop singer straining at the edge of her range.
My eyes closed with a sigh of relief. I was home.
No one who either worked or shopped at the store paid much attention to my hasty entrance. They had all grown accustom to such things by now. There wasn’t a day that went by when some celebrity or another wasn’t ducking into the store—rushing out the back entrance again to escape the hounding press. I just wasn’t used to that person being me.
Not for much longer, I told myself as I started to browse around. Only until you buy this dress, act fake engaged, and then fake break up with the world’s most perfect man.
I moved at a leisurely pace, feeling both safe and content inside my bubble, but it still wasn’t long until I found something that looked promising. It was a bit conservative for my tastes, but what else did one wear to the yacht club? Plus, it was white. Like a bride.
The irony was killing me.
Literally. Killing me.
I snatched up the hanger with a martyred sigh, and headed for the changing rooms. A kindly woman opened the very first door, then stepped back as I settled inside. My clothes came off, the dress went on, and a second later, I found myself staring—wide-eyed at my reflection.
Yeah...like a bride.
A nervous giggle escaped my lips. Followed by another. I turned this way and that, swishing the fabric. Then that giggling turned into quiet but hysterical laughter.
What the hell was I doing? What the hell had I gotten myself into?!
Manic, hyperventilating tears popped into my eyes. My hands clamped over my mouth in an effort to muffle the sound. Things were looking bad all the way around, and realistically, I probably could have gone on for hours.
But the giggling stopped abruptly when a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder.
“Miss, I saw you slip those cufflinks into your bag.”
All the laughter drained right out of me, as my throat tightened up with a little squeak. I hadn’t taken any cufflinks! I didn’t even know that Barneys sold cufflinks! A chill ran down my spine, and I tried to turn around to defend myself, but I was scared stiff.
“I...I didn’t...”
“There’s no point in trying to deny it,” he spoke in a heavy Southern accent. I could see the police cap shadowed behind me on the wall. “I going to need you to empty your bag.”
“It’s a purse,” I corrected automatically. “And I don’t...”
Wait a minute...
With a cry of rage, I whirled around to see Nick grinning ear to ear. Every single woman in the store was gathered behind him like a swooning chorus, but they scattered like chickens when I shot them all a dangerous glare.
“You scared the hell out of me!” I exclaimed, shoving him in the ches
t. “Why would you do that?! And where the hell did you get that hat?!”
“The Chief loaned it to me,” he said with a boyish grin. “We were having Segway races outside.”
Only Nick wouldn’t see how utterly ridiculous that statement sounded in the real world.
Still smarting from his little game, I took it off, threw it toward a cufflinks display on the second floor. He let out a long laugh.
A few seconds later, he walked up the stairs after me. Hat in hand. “So...you saw the papers?”
I opened my mouth to reply, then abruptly closed it. To be frank, I didn’t want to talk about it. Not after I’d been obsessing about it all morning. Not after the fiasco in my office.
Instead, I redirected to a conversation of a more pleasant nature. “How did you know what foods to get me?”
It took him a second to change track, then his face softened with a smile.
“We’ve spent almost every day together for the last two years. You think I don’t know what foods you tend to order? You think I haven’t noticed?”
Again. Incredibly sweet.
A faint blush colored my cheeks, and I dropped my eyes to the floor.
“You sure slept in this morning. Didn’t feel like running?”
A rather strange expression came over his face, and he fidgeted nervously. After glancing over his shoulder to make sure we were alone, he dug his hands deep into his pockets.
“No, I didn’t go out for a run.” A little tremor shook his voice, and he took a deep breath to steady it. “I actually went somewhere else.”
His caginess sparked my curiosity, and I took a step closer—lowering my voice to be as discreet as his own. “Where did you go?”
His eyes met mine for a split second. Nervous. Trying to anticipate my reaction.
“To get a ring.”
Chapter 9
YOU KNOW THAT FEELING you get the split second you realize you’re in over your head? The clammy tingle that wets the hairs on the back of your neck, followed by the bitter taste of delayed adrenaline? The corners of your vision dim for a moment, and if you’re anything like me, the only impulse in the entire world you can manage to summon is to run.
That’s what happened to me the moment I saw the ring.
“That’s a...”
Words failed me. As in, vanished completely from my head. There was a chance the speech centers of my brain had momentarily shut down. So instead of talking, I merely tilted my head to the side, and gave a four-year-old caveman approximation of the situation.
“...ring.”
Nick raised his eyebrows slightly, but given the present circumstances, even he knew better than to give me a hard time. He merely looked down at the open box, biting his lip with a grimace. Like the thing held a disembodied finger, not a beautiful diamond.
“Yeah, I...” he looked again at my face, and tried to adjust himself accordingly, “I thought it would be best if we had one on hand. You know, before the party tomorrow.”
I couldn’t look at him. I was still trying very hard to speak.
“Harold gave me the name of a place,” he continued on quickly, talking in a rush so as to minimize the damage as much as possible. “They were really discreet—in and out. We only used back doors and side entrances. No one in the press knew I was there.”
Fascinating stuff. At least, I was sure it would be if I could manage to take my eyes off the tiny piece of jewelry sparkling in his hand.
“...that’s a ring.”
His face tensed nervously, like he was afraid he’d broken me somehow.
“That’s right, Abby,” he said with cautious patience, “it’s a ring. Do you want to maybe sit down so that we don’t flash it in front of the entire—”
“For me?”
He paused, at a complete loss as to what to say. A bit of a crowd was beginning to gather in the lower story—drawn by that societal instinct that they had stumbled upon the beginnings of a scandal. Nick took one look at them, and quickly shut the box.
“Okay, I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not—but we’ve got to go.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he grabbed me by the arm, and started tugging me toward the service elevator near the back. I followed along hastily behind him, still completely unaware of what was going on and tripping every few seconds in my towering shoes.
It wasn’t until he’d pressed the button and we were about to leave, that I realized I was still wearing the dress I’d been trying on. That, and everything else I’d brought with me, was still sitting in a pile on the changing room floor.
“Nick, wait!” I tried to tug my wrist out of his hand. “I still have to pay for this. And all my stuff, it’s all still—”
“I’ll have Brigitte send your things back to the apartment.”
My head spun around, searching desperately for this mysterious benefactor. A vague part of me was aware that I was starting to lose it. A vague part was aware that I was speaking much more loudly than was required.
But that part had been silenced the moment I saw the diamond. Buried for good measure, the moment I saw the crowd.
This was not supposed to be my life. This was not supposed to be happening.
“Wait—who?”
Nick glanced behind him. People had begun to pull out their smart phones now. Trying their very best to get the whole thing on video. He flashed them a quick smile, and turned slowly back to me—speaking through his teeth.
“Brigitte. Now come on, Abby—please lower your voice.”
It was a rational request. A damn vital one considering our circumstances. But I was long past rational. And too far gone for vital to mean much.
“No, Nick,” I twisted away, eyes still on the pocket into which he’d slipped the ring, “it’ll be fine, let me go and grab my stuff. I’ll just be two seconds—”
He pulled me suddenly close, silencing me with the abrupt proximity.
“A good publicist once told me that it only takes one second to snap a picture that can follow you for the rest of your life.”
He spoke in a low, rapid clip—staring intently into my eyes.
“Your things will be fine, I’ll have them sent back home. In the meantime, at least three of the women downstairs have already called the press, and at least two of them just saw me pull out that ring.”
It was a speech I had probably given him at least a hundred times before, but I had never been on the receiving end myself. A shudder ran through my body, but he squeezed me tightly on the arms—bringing my focus back to the matter at hand.
“Now, do you want to go back, change out of that dress, and be trapped in here with the fallout? Or do you want to get into this elevator...and let me take you home?”
I stared at him for only a moment, losing myself in those beautiful eyes. Then I glanced at the swelling mob behind me, and pushed the elevator button myself.
“I want to go home.”
Home. It was somehow very easy to call it that now. Even though I’d only been living there for a few days. Even though the circumstances that brought me were as wild as they come.
It was home. At least...it was home for now.
He gave me a warm smile, and grabbed my hand as the door dinged open. A saleswoman looked at him and he told her he’d pay double for everything. She nodded. A second later, the two of us were shooting down to the basement, then racing out to the back alley.
The second we opened the door, I knew that my moment of hesitation had cost us.
The beginnings of a crowd were already starting to gather. Pedestrians and paparazzi alike were clustered in a swarm, and a dozen flashbulbs lit up the sky the second we stepped out onto the pavement.
But this time, we weren’t alone. This time, Nick had called in reinforcements.
As we darted toward the waiting town car, a deep voice boomed out in the air.
“You touch that camera again—I break your arm.”
I looked up just in time to see a huge br
oad-shouldered man step in between me and a paparazzi. It was like hiding beneath a boulder from the sun. The blinding light disappeared, the panic that came with it subsided, and for the first time all morning, I felt like I could breathe.
“Max,” I gasped, staring up at him in sweet relief, “you’re a life-saver.”
The handsome Italian gave my shoulder a little squeeze, before turning back to the crowd—transforming before my very eyes from knight in shining armor, to that dangerous line you don’t want to cross.
Having been in the situation so many times before, Nick mostly ignored the efforts of his faithful bodyguard. He merely clapped him on the shoulder as he rushed past, then yanked open the door and helped me slide into the car.
The second he was inside too, we took off down the alley—moving slowly at first, then much faster as Max literally body-slammed people out of our way.
My eyes widened in wonder as I stared out the window. The faces of a dozen ravenous people screamed back at me. Straining for a peek. Fighting for even a glimpse at the inside.
But just a moment later, we were gone. Back on the streets of New York—gliding away from the frantic scene as if it had never even happened.
...except it did.
I turned away from the window, only to see Nick watching me very closely from the other side of the car. He seemed determined to give me space, and whether he wanted to laugh, lecture, or hit me upside the head for how I’d handled things—I would never know.
All he did was smile. A calm, poker-faced smile.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t able to brush things off so easily. My face flushed bright red as I gazed down at my white cocktail dress. My stolen cocktail dress. Technically, Nick hadn’t paid for it yet. Not only had I literally melted down the second Nick flashed me that ring, not only had I left my purse containing all personal items and credit cards behind, but I had just stolen a dress from Barneys.
...not even mid-day, and I’m already a felon.
The car bumped and jostled down the road with no particular destination. When we’d slipped inside, Nick had simply told the man to drive.