Mending Images With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 4)

by Lorin Grace

  Adam drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I suppose you have contact information for his team since you and Alex were originally going to go with the Crawfords. I’d like to talk to the head of the Evans detail to give them a heads-up.”

  “You want eyes on me in Boston?” Abbie raised her brows.

  “That, and if the stalker knows your food preferences, what else would they know?”

  Abbie pulled out her phone and handed it to her brother. “Meet my fake profile. It states my favorite food is veggie-mushroom pizza, which makes me doubly stupid for forgetting I put my food preferences on there.”

  “Nice work. I assume Alan set up the page and you have years of posts.” Adam looked at Preston. So that you know, I am only slightly less protective of my sister than Alex is. The kissing-in-the-restaurant photo of your engagement on social media isn’t my favorite. But unlike Alex, I understand the necessity. I also know from experience how an undercover job can mess with all the players as the lines of reality blur. You both need to keep things professional.”

  Preston ignored the lump that inevitably came whenever one of the Hastings glared at him. “I know. I’m sorry. I have already apologized.”

  “So she says, but she conveniently shut off the audio.” Adam stood up and went to the TV. “Hey, do you think we got pizza guy or his voice on tape?”

  Abbie walked over and put her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Adam, not now. Look when you get to the office in the morning. I don’t want to spend the entire evening analyzing what I missed when it has already been a long day.”

  Adam pulled her into a hug. “Okay. I’ll take that as my hint to go. Bye, sis.” He kissed her on the forehead and left.

  Abbie turned to Preston. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really. Do you want to go someplace?”

  Abbie shook her head. “No, but I don’t want to be alone yet, either.”

  “If I go home now, the stalker could get the wrong message. We could watch a movie. Don’t worry. I know your brothers are watching. I’ll be professional.”

  She picked up the remote. “I am not worried, even if they weren’t watching. We are friends.” She sat next to him on the couch. “Romantic comedy?”

  “Sounds good.”

  By the time the couple in the movie got together, Abbie was softly curled into his side and snoring. Usually, he watched movies in his home theater, with its leather recliners, or at a premier. Having a woman use him as a pillow during a film was not a common experience. The closing credits rolled.

  Abbie woke up. She opened her eyes and sat up, pushing back her hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  He put his finger to her lips. “Don’t apologize. Thank you for letting me watch. Next time we can watch something you can stay awake for.”

  She walked him to the door.

  “I’ll send a car around three o’clock to take us to the airport.” He leaned down and touched his lips to her cheek. The brothers would probably be annoyed, but he didn’t care.

  twelve

  Abbie checked to make sure neither of Preston’s bodyguards had followed her. After conferring with Simon Dermot the other evening, Simon had decided to come himself. Unfortunately, Patrick had ended up as the second guard after Simon’s original choice came down with a stomach bug an hour before they were scheduled to leave. So far Simon had kept Patrick looking the other way when Gale needed to become Abbie. She crossed the bottom of the Boston Common and onto Boylston Street.

  Candace, Tessa, and Zoe were sorting items in the sitting room of their suite. “You made it.”

  “Give me a minute to get rid of my extensions and brown eyes. I am ready to be me for the next day and a half.”

  “Araceli called. She will be here in an hour. Don’t forget to put on your colored extensions.” Candace twirled a lock of her own multicolored wig.

  The bride arrived and the party started. Abbie took photos of the toilet-paper wedding dresses. Candace won again.

  Mandy laughed over the video conference. “How do you do it? That one’s even better than the one you created for my party.”

  Candace made Araceli twirl. “I have an eye.”

  “So your next major will be fashion design?” asked Tessa.

  “Not likely. The department gave me a choice—come teach full time or move on.”

  “Dr. Christensen told you that?” asked Mandy.

  “No, the dean. I have until July 15 to decide what I want to do. If I teach, I get almost all 100-level classes, and I have to have natural-colored hair.” Candace posed Araceli for another photo. “Now, let’s see if I can get you out of this so you can put it on again,” she joked.

  “Again?”

  “I am sure you and Kyle can find something to do with it,” said Mandy, playing along.

  Zoe leaned into the phone’s camera. “What did you do with yours?”

  Mandy laughed. “I could tell you, but then I would have to send Alex after you.”

  Araceli turned beet red.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Zoe opened it. “Mrs. Williams, come in. We were finishing up.”

  “I stopped by to let Araceli know we are back and to remind her you all need your beauty sleep.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be up to our suite in just a few.”

  Mrs. Williams left.

  One last round of hugs, and Mandy signed off on her end.

  Araceli gathered up her gifts and left.

  Candace gathered up her things . “Well, Tessa, you are next.”

  Tessa helped clean up. “Sean’s grandfather was in the hospital last week. Sean wants the option of moving our wedding up if he thinks his grandfather is failing again. Of course, Reverend Cavanagh claims he’ll live until the Christmas program. He has five great grandchildren. It is such a special time for him, and Sean thinks we should wait for the season. I am holding out for the date we picked so my father can be there since his wife will have their baby by then. But I am worried about Sean’s grandfather, I know he thinks he can recover quickly but he is over eighty.”

  “Then he will,” said Candace. “You would be surprised how much prayer and positive thinking can do.” For a moment, Abbie thought Candace’s voice caught and there might have been a tear in her eye, but the moisture disappeared as fast as it came.

  Zoe gathered the plastic cups. “Do you have a dress yet?”

  “No. I thought you guys would like to come down to NYC on Saturday and look.”

  “I can’t, but if you want to come out to Chicago, I know a great designer,” said Abbie.

  Tessa sat opposite Abbie. “Explain. What is going on?”

  Abbie told a condensed version of her job for Preston.

  “What happens if the wedding date gets here and you haven’t caught the stalker?”

  “Then we go ahead with a fake marriage. Preston is hiring an actor to play the minister and some other things. He booked a two-room suite in Hawaii, so I have a separate room.”

  “Whoa, how far will you take this?” Zoe perched on the arm of the chair Tessa sat in.

  “Considering the pizza incident on Monday, we don’t think the search will take that long. Things are escalating. But Preston can’t make it look like any part of our relationship is a hoax. He and the head of security are covering for me through tomorrow night. It is unlikely the stalker followed us here anyway. But Adam did let the Evans’s security team know in case.”

  Candace sat down and pulled off her wig. “Well, ladies, it’s time for us to get some sleep.”

  In her bathroom, Abbie took off her colorful extensions and laid them next to the ones she used as Gale. Real or fake, fake or real? One should not try to be philosophical after midnight.

  She turned o
ff the light.

  Preston took off his tie. The meetings had gone well, but the dinner had been insufferable. No matter how many times he reminded Miss Banks he was engaged, she kept trying to get his attention. The half dozen times he removed her hand from his knee during the salad course made it difficult to eat. Only Patrick’s presence had prevented her from following Preston up to his hotel room. He’d missed Abbie’s conversation.

  He picked up his phone and texted her.

  How are you feeling?

  — Tired. I knew the lobster was a bad choice. Were your meetings successful?

  Preston wondered how she really was. The hen party should be over soon. He pictured her laughing with the two friends he’d met last week at the film party.

  Mostly. Some things must be ironed out tomorrow. Do you think you might be up to going out tomorrow night to the Boston Opera House?

  — Opera?

  No there is a Broadway musical playing.

  — Can you get tickets on such short notice?

  — I reserved them 2 weeks ago. It seemed like a logical choice as they needed to be seen together in public.

  You never said you were a Boy Scout. You have that be-prepared thing down.

  Preston laughed. Ha, Ha. No. I’m just my grandfather’s protégé.

  — What time?

  8

  — I think I should be recovered by then. Just don’t make me eat any seafood.

  Deal. Let me know if you feel well enough for dinner too.

  — I will.

  Good night. Dream of me.

  — Is that the equivalent of sweet dreams? :)

  Yup. Maybe.

  He had found Abbie in his dreams more often. In some of them, the stalker won. Those were not sweet.

  — Good night to you too.

  Preston stared at his screen. If they were really getting married, he would have written something else. But writing the three little words on the off chance someone would read their conversation seemed wrong. He had never told Yvette he loved her. It would have been a lie, their relationship having resembled a business merger. She didn’t love him as much as she did his money. Abbie was a friend. Perhaps the first true friend he’d had in a while.

  The irony wasn’t lost on him, though. The best friendship he’d had in years was fake.

  thirteen

  Feeling much better. I can go out by six.

  Abbie left the afternoon reception with the bridal party shortly after Araceli and Kyle. Candace, Tessa, and Zoe sat in the limo with her in their matching seafoam dresses. She didn’t feel left out in her blue skirt and jacket.

  Zoe sighed. “She looked so happy. I hope I can find someone who makes me smile like a sunny day.”

  “My mother had a friend who didn’t wear any makeup on her wedding day because her husband made her feel so beautiful she didn’t think she needed it. I wonder how that kind of love feels,” said Candace.

  Abbie’s thoughts flew to her conversation with Preston by the pond. The way he had looked at her, she’d almost believed him. Not enough to toss her mascara in the trash, but maybe enough to model one useless wedding dress.

  Tessa’s laugh interrupted Abbie’s musings. “Sean makes me feel beautiful, but there is no way I am standing up in front of a hundred people without my lipstick and eyeliner.”

  Candace shifted in her rear-facing seat. “The funny thing is, Mom said her friend wasn’t a cover girl or anything, just average. I’d settle for a guy who could look at me without the wigs and makeup and not wince.”

  “Colin has seen you without your wig,” said Zoe.

  “Several men have seen me wearing scarves, including Colin, but that isn’t the same as bald.” Candace turned to Abbie in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “What are you and Preston doing tonight?”

  “He got tickets to the musical playing at the Boston Opera House.”

  Tessa looked up the show on her phone. “Sean took me to that on my visit to New York during spring break. I still wake up humming the love song.”

  “Not sure that means much. You woke up every morning humming some love song.” Abbie looked out the window as the limo slowed. “We’re here now. Time to turn into Gale again.”

  At the Four Seasons, Abbie hurried to change back into her Gale hair and clothes. Her phone beeped.

  — I’ll be back at the hotel in twenty minutes.

  I should be in my room. Taking a walk now.

  Abbie packed her clothes and makeup for Candace to take back to Chicago. The others were still in their rooms, so she called out her goodbyes before heading back across the common.

  The Ritz doorman opened the door for her as the car service pulled up to the curb.

  Preston hopped out, followed by Patrick. Preston hurried to her side and looped his arm around her waist. “I am glad to see you up and walking.” He propelled her across the lobby and whispered, “Your eyes are a lovely shade of blue.”

  Patrick caught up with them at the bank of elevators.

  Abbie’s mind raced. Where had she left her brown contacts? In her purse. At least she had them with her. But she couldn’t risk Patrick seeing.

  On the elevator, she turned her back to Patrick and played with Preston’s tie. “How did your meetings go today?”

  “As smoothly as can be expected. Shall we catch a quick dinner before the theater or order room service?”

  Abbie ran her fingers along one of the silk stripes of the tie, aware Patrick was listening to every word. “I think room service would be best. I need to change and fix my face.”

  “I like it the way it is, but if you say so.” The elevator reached their floor. Patrick checked Preston’s room, then went down the hall to the room he shared with Simon.

  Abbie opened her door. Preston leaned against the jamb. “Do you mind if I order dinner up to my room?”

  “No.” Abbie noticed a large trademark turquoise-blue box on the table. “Preston, you shouldn’t have.” She lifted the lid.

  “I didn’t.” He took a step into the room.

  “Stop!” Dread filled Abbie when she saw the contents of the box. “Send Simon in here, and you and Patrick leave the floor. Pull the fire alarm once you reach the lobby. When you are outside, call 911.”

  “Gale?”

  “It’s a bomb. Go now!”

  “I can’t leave—”

  “This is my job! Get out of here!” Abbie whirled on him and pushed him out the door. She didn’t turn back into her suite until Preston was pounding on the door to the room down the hall the security team used . Then she reached inside her purse and pulled out her pocket knife and cell phone, debating only a second before linking a video call to her brother.

  “Adam, I have an emergency.”

  Standing outside the hotel waiting for Boston’s finest was not where Preston wanted to be, but Patrick had a firm hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t go running back into the building.

  Patrick interrupted his thoughts. “Why hasn’t Simon brought your fiancée down?”

  The lie came quickly to Preston’s mind, probably from some movie script. “I don’t know. Gale thought she stepped on something that clicked when she opened the box. She refused to move in case it was a pressure plate. I think she watches too much TV.” There was no way the bodyguard would believe such an inane tale, but Patrick nodded and studied the building.

  Preston looked at his watch. How much time was left on the timer? The phone attached to the bomb didn’t have large numbers like on TV. Police and fire trucks pulled up. The hotel manager pointed one of the policemen to him.

  The policeman jogged over. “Sergeant Rourke. Are you the one who reported this?”

  “Yes, there was a box on her table, and my fiancée open
ed it, and we think it’s a bomb.”

  “Where is she?”

  How could he explain without Patrick figuring out Abbie’s dual identity? Another policeman came up and addressed Patrick. The bodyguard let go of Preston’s shoulder. Preston walked around the sergeant and pointed to the third floor from the top. She is up there with my head of security.

  The officer swore.

  Preston checked to make sure Patrick couldn’t hear, then looked the sergeant in the eye. “She’s former Secret Service. He’s a retired Seal.”

  The sergeant nodded and ran off. While other officers and firefighters urged the hotel evacuees toward the Boston Common, Preston stayed close to Patrick and prayed.

  Simon Dermot studied the bomb and the abnormalities Adam and Abbie pointed out. “I believe you’re right. It looks like a fake. The C-4 is some sort of modeling clay, and the wires are too haphazard.”

  “Four minutes, Adam. What should we do?” she shouted over the fire alarm.

  “I wish I could smell over the phone. Then I would know for sure. Tug lightly on the yellow wire. It looks like it isn’t even connected to the blasting cap.”

  Simon did the honors, and the wire slid out of the cap.

  “Okay, now pull out the cap. Look for a logo.” Adam’s worried face filled Abbie’s screen.

  Abbie held the cap up to the phone. “There it is, near the crimp.”

  “Do you recognize it, Abbie? I think it’s the same company I buy our training kits from.”

  Simon took the cap from Abbie. “I have used this brand too.”

  Abbie took a deep breath.

  The pounding of feet down the hallway was nearly as loud as the alarm.

  “Gotta go.” She turned the phone off.

  “Step away from the bomb.”