by Lorin Grace
nine
The same maître d’ led them to the table where she’d spent a half hour sipping water only three days ago. The restaurant was packed. Abbie wondered how many of the patrons were here because of Preston’s unanswered invitation Friday night.
Preston didn’t bother looking at the wine list when he ordered. Abbie stopped the waiter. “Excuse me. May I have Perrier?”
The waiter nodded and left. Preston raised a brow. “Perrier?”
“I don’t drink on the job.”
“But if a job requires it?”
The waiter returned and poured their drinks. Abbie sipped her water. “Never happened. I don’t drink off the job either. Even if my father hadn’t taught us drinking was unhealthy, I’ve seen far too much in my line of work to doubt him.”
Preston paused and studied his glass. “Well, I have made it a habit not to drink if the company I’m keeping doesn’t.” He called the waiter over and exchanged his drink.
“I should have told you sooner. It just didn’t come up.”
“Don’t be. At least we will have witnesses that I am not inebriated.”
By the end of the first course, Abbie realized most of the customers were more interested in her food than she was. The conversation turned to favorite movies and actors.
“Audrey Hepburn?”
Abbie thought for a moment. “My three favorites again?” At his nod, she continued. “My Fair Lady, although I think it’s a shame she didn’t do the singing, Charade, and How to Steal a Million.”
“Not Breakfast at Tiffany’s? I thought that was everyone’s favorite.”
“Not mine. Okay, Cary Grant.”
“Seriously, he is in chick flicks.”
“Like Gunga Din and North by Northwest?”
Preston laughed. “I’ve never seen either.”
“How have you gotten through life without seeing North by Northwest?”
Preston shrugged. “Mum hated Hitchcock movies. Psycho gave her nightmares, and she refused to see any others, so I never saw it.”
“Then I suggest we either find a film festival or make one ourselves.”
“That can be arranged.”
“I’m sure it can. Let me guess. You have a private theater with a full-sized screen in that mansion of yours.”
“Nope. But my uncle does. Ours is a quarter of the size. We can find a few friends and have a party anytime you want.”
Abbie finished her main course. “I’ll hold you to that one.”
The waiter set a covered dessert tray on the table and left.
Even though she knew the proposal was coming and the relationship wasn’t real, butterflies still invaded her stomach. After all, it might be the only proposal she ever got.
“Third time’s the charm.” The old axiom echoed in his brain. Or “Three strikes and you’re out.” At least Abbie wouldn’t be saying yes because she meant it. And he wasn’t actually proposing, so it wasn’t really the third time. More like 2.5.
He lifted the cover of the little black box. The collective intake of breath from the surrounding tables drowned out Abbie’s reaction. When Preston slid out of his chair on to his knee, applause erupted before he could open his mouth.
Abbie covered her mouth, her eyes wide, as Preston slipped the ring on her finger and kissed it before standing and offering his hand to assist her to rise as well.
Over the years, Preston had come to believe he was a relatively good kisser. He had kissed women in front of the camera before, but he had never kissed anyone he was paying to kiss him. Before Abbie’s eyes closed, he realized her smile wasn’t in them. He kept the kiss only long enough to satisfy onlookers before pulling back.
He whispered in her ear. “Dessert here or to go?”
“Here is fine.” She sat back down, and he signaled to the waiter.
He usually enjoyed the chef’s chocolate creations, but tonight’s dessert could have been from a fast-food chain and he wouldn’t have been able to tell. He hoped Abbie enjoyed hers more. He held her hand across the table more to reassure her that everything was going to be all right than anything else.
When his driver closed the door, he let out a sigh. “We need to talk.”
Abbie pointed to the driver and mouthed “Later.” He held her hand, and they sat together in the center of the seat for the duration of the drive.
When the car pulled up to the curb, Preston gave Abbie’s hand a caress. “May I walk you up?”
“Please.”
Another couple entered the elevator after them. So much for talking.
Abbie looked up at him and gave him a half smile. “Come inside for a minute.”
Still holding her hand, he followed her off the elevator.
Once they were inside the apartment, she entered a code in the alarm pad, then another code. “Just so you know, all the cameras are still working, but I have turned off the audio. My brothers don’t need to hear everything we say. Give me a moment to make sure Alex left. Do you want something to drink?”
Knowing she didn’t have any of his usual after-date drinks, he declined and took a seat on the couch facing the window.
Abbie returned with two glasses of water. “Something happened tonight. What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”
Abbie sank into the seat next to him. “What do you mean?”
Preston stood and began to pace the room. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position . . . I’m not saying this well. It was the kiss. I realized I paid you to kiss me. And that is not who I am. It isn’t who you are. You are an honorable woman, and I treated you—” He leaned against the window frame and looked out at the lake.
Abbie came to stand at the opposite side of the frame. “Preston, when I took this job, I knew being a fake fiancée involved a few public kisses. You didn’t take advantage of that tonight. You kept the kiss short and sweet. You didn’t push or take advantage.”
He turned to face her. “But it isn’t right.”
She touched his arm. “Come sit down.” She waited until he joined her. “I know this is weird, but I respect you for how you feel about this. I didn’t think you had it in you. I know that sounds rude, and it is. After our first meeting, I didn’t think you could, um, . . . well, care.” She gave the funny little smile he’d seen a few times over the weekend. He had yet to decipher its meaning but hoped he would before long.
“I probably deserve that. So, where do we go from here?”
“Do you want to call this off? We can wait until you have a real girlfriend and work from there.”
Preston gulped down most of his water. “We have come this far, and—”
“You don’t need another failed relationship, especially within a week of the last one.”
“That too. But I just want this to be over.” He began to pace.
Abbie blocked his path. “So we continue as planned. You hired me to find the stalker, and the plan was to pose as your fiancée. And considering you managed to convince the entire restaurant I am engaged without even proposing, I’d say we are off to a good start.”
“I didn’t propose, did I? And you didn’t say yes.”
“Nope. Now for my question.” She held up her left hand. “Is this a family heirloom, and how much is it worth?”
“It was my grandmother’s, and I am not telling you, because you might faint.”
“Well, I’m glad I have a safe in the apartment, and I am carrying.”
Preston sat up. “You are carrying? Where?”
“If you were my real fiancé, I’d tell you.”
“Not show me?”
Abbie smiled. “Nope, you’d have to be my husband to see.”
Preston laughed. “
Well, then, I guess that’s my cue to go. Lunch tomorrow?”
“The more often we are seen together, the faster the stalker will act.” Abbie walked him to the door.
“If I give you a kiss on the cheek as a friend, will your brothers be after me?”
“Probably.” She grabbed his lapels and went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “But they won’t go after me. Thanks for the best nonproposal I have ever had.”
Preston took an empty elevator down to the lobby, then took out his phone to call his driver.
He had four missed texts. Yvette, Felicia, Dad, and Mum. He wondered how long he could go before they started calling.
ten
Candace wore the same wig she had to Mandy’s wedding—a good thing as the bridesmaid’s dress she held up would have clashed with anything else.
“That is beyond hideous.” Zoe held up a silky pink dress.
“Well, yours looks like you are trying to seduce the best man.” Felicia managed to find a ruffled peach gown that looked like it had run away from the ’70s.
Abbie hadn’t made up her mind about Preston’s cousin, but he had been right. She did seem to want to find the hideous gowns. Their meeting yesterday afternoon at the Kickerbocker to go over reception menus with Preston hadn’t been awkward per se, but she did get the idea that Felicia didn’t entirely approve of her either.
“No, Zoe, not the strapless one, my figure will never support it.” Candace turned Zoe back to the rack before Abbie could see what she was carrying.
“I know—why don’t I pick a color and you chose your favorite two dresses in that color, then you can mix and match it? That way Felicia can be as atrocious as she wants, Candace can have sleeves, and Zoe can have whatever. No one would ever wear the dresses after the event. What about burgundy or something complementary? With an evening wedding, I think that is better than the pale-rose color.”
Candace found her dress first, a lace bodice with sleeves over a trumpet skirt. She could wear it at the Crawford’s next New Year’s party.
If someone wanted to seduce the best man, any of the dresses Felicia chose would work. The off-the-shoulder draped ruffle sleeves and thigh-high slit on her final choice left little to the imagination. Abbie wondered who the groom’s men were.
Zoe couldn’t decide between a shimmery silver strapless and a sleek crepe dress with a half Obi-style bow.
“I realize the silver complements the other two dresses, but the shimmery fabric will draw people’s eyes away from the bride.” Felicia voted against the dress. Abbie fought not to raise her eyebrows, considering Felicia’s own choice.
Shoes, necklaces, and handbags came next. Abbie hoped at least some of it could be returned, but she had the feeling Preston wouldn’t care about spending $5k on three nonexistent bridesmaids. She was still well within her clothing budget. She joined them in the trying on of shoes.
Felicia handed her a pair of spiky heels. “You need to be taller for the photos.”
Abbie held up a one-inch satin wedge. “This pair is perfect. I don’t have to worry about tripping down the aisle, and I don’t want to tower over my bridesmaids.”
Just when Abbie thought the morning would never end, they were done and the women piled into the service car and headed to Abbie’s for a light lunch.
Abbie unlocked the door to her apartment and put her arm up, barring the others’s entry. “Stop.” She set the bag containing her new shoes down and pulled some tissue paper out of the box, then used the paper to pick up the paper lying inside the door.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
If you want to be dead,
Say “I do.”
“Preston warned me about the stalker when I got a black rose on Monday. Don’t touch it. I need to text him.”
Felicia took a step back toward the elevator. “Is it safe to go in the apartment?”
If Preston’s cousin wasn’t here, she would clear the apartment herself. She couldn’t reveal how wired the place was either. “Let’s shut the door and get some of the building’s security men to check it out.” Instead of calling downstairs, she called Alan. In moments, two security guards emerged from the stairwell. She shot off a quick text to Preston.
Stalker struck, left poem.
Preston read the text a second time before calling Abbie.
“Hi, Preston. We finished up with building security. It was just a poem. I thought Felicia was going to faint for a moment, but she is fine now. The chocolate dessert fixed everything.”
“I’ll remember that for future reference. Do you need any extra chocolate?”
“No, I am doing well.”
He heard voices in the background, so he couldn’t ask anything she couldn’t answer as Gale. “How did dress shopping go?”
“Do you want to know now or when you get the bill?”
Preston laughed. “Knowing you, it’s still ten times less than I expect but more than you ever dreamed. I take it the festivities are continuing?” He longed to ask the questions she couldn’t answer.
“We barely sat down to lunch.”
“Come to dinner with me tonight?”
“I’d love to. I think I had better get back in there now. They sound like they are planning the movie party and adding a few surprises. Bye, Preston.”
The line disconnected. Nothing in Abbie’s voice betrayed any worry, so Preston tried not to worry either.
His assistant buzzed.
“Your two o’clock is here.”
“Thanks, send them in.”
“No fingerprints, DNA, fibers?”
Adam sat back in his chair. “Sorry, Abbs. Other than lacking in originality, the note gave us nothing. The only interesting piece is the stalker used the identical letters from copies of the magazines he used in the first note.”
“How did he get the paper under my door without the cameras picking him up?” Abbie started to slouch and thought better of it. Her blouse was sure to wrinkle.
“At 10:13, a private delivery man walks by with several packages, including a long tube. Someone passes him, and the tube seems to bump the camera. Changing the angle enough to leave your door in a dead spot.”
“Rather convenient.”
“Yes, but the man was the carrier the architect two doors down regularly uses. All the packages were from his agency.”
“Could the person who bumped the deliveryman have moved the camera with something else?”
“Possibly. Then three minutes later your motion detector picks up movement near the door and the camera catches the paper on the floor.” Adam rolled the video again.
“Go back to the hallway view. Do you see the shadow?”
Adam moved to a different view. “The camera at the end of the hall shows no one there, but it shows a shadow too.”
“Looks like the stalker is wearing one of those full-body suits like stagehands wear in the theater but instead of black, it’s a light gray. If the camera wasn’t HD the person could be dismissed as a blip on the screen.” Abbie reached over and stopped the video.
“A lot of work to deliver a pathetic poem. He had to get into the building and change, too.”
“Yes, but security has been instructed to let people get to the apartment. Whoever he is realized the camera was aimed at my door. Abbie checked her phone. I’ve gotta run. I’m meeting the mother-in-law-to-be for a luncheon with an aunt and a cousin and perhaps a couple others.”
“So that’s why you are dressed like that. I think the hat is a nice touch.” Adam smirked.
“I don’t need this from you. I am a nervous wreck as it is. I need to be likable but not too much, so no one is too hurt when I catch the stalker and end this farce.”
Adam came around the desk and laid a hand on
Abbie’s shoulder. “You are sure you’re not getting emotionally involved?”
Abbie met his concerned look. “Like I told Alex, I’m fine. Preston is a decent guy, and we have lines. His idea of following the protocol of Prince William and Kate is working. No more kissing. Only occasional touching as needed to escort me.”
“Not what I asked.”
“It isn’t Preston. It’s the fact I am so involved in his life. One of my bridesmaids is his fun and eccentric cousin. Now I am meeting his immediate family. I guess I pictured hanging out with just Preston all month.”
“I don’t talk much about September. I didn’t see a relationship or whatever it was coming. There was no love at first sight. But the longer I watched over her, the closer we became. She nearly was killed because I was too blinded by my own feelings to see the danger. I know Alex is afraid you will fall for Preston—some curse-of-the-Art-House thing—but I am more concerned you’ll get so sucked into the role you’ll miss some clue and it’ll be too late.”
“I’m careful. I need to go.” Abbie gave her brother a half hug and headed for her rental car. Next time she came to the office, she would need to be more careful. Someone could have followed her.
She had only seen what Preston referred to as “the residence” in photos. She had expected to talk into a call box to have the gate opened. Instead, two of Dermot’s men emerged from a guard house to let her in and directed her to park next to a white Lamborghini. The Lexus she drove practically wilted in shame, poor little rental.
A butler met her at the door, and she felt the electronic extensions of the security guards watching her every step as she followed the older man through the foyer to a sitting room. Preston entered from another door.
“You decided to face the gauntlet.” He took her hands and drew her closer, whispering in her ear. “Anything else from yesterday’s note?”
Abbie shook her head and stepped back. “Nothing I haven’t told you about.” She smoothed her skirt and hoped she’d dressed acceptably.
