Sweat dripped down my back, and my dress shirt clung to the dampness. Veronica marched down the carpet, stopping only to wink at the cameras. I bent my head against the brightness and followed her up the stairs to the entrance. She laced her arm through mine as the bouncer posted at the door studied our invitations.
“Have a good time, Mr. and Mrs. Dixon,” he said, nodding us inside. I released the breath I’d been holding.
The lobby of the gallery was impressive by normal standards, with a huge fountain in the center surrounded by lush greenery, but decorators had taken it to the next level. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling and wrapped around each pole, ushering us down the halls to a room that had been transformed into a grand ballroom. Trees and flowers graced the walls and corners. It was like standing in a fairy-tale forest.
I shook my head at the amount of money it must’ve taken to rent this space and decorate it to a T.
“You’re wondering how much is left for the charity, aren’t you?” Veronica stuck her hand on her hip.
“How did you know?”
“It’s written all over your face. I can tell when you’re getting your savior act on. And you don’t have to worry. Most of this stuff is donated because it’s a charity event. Okay, Hero?” She nudged me toward the bar in the corner. “You get us drinks—champagne for me—and I’ll find out what table we’re at.”
The bar was a busy spot, and I drummed my fingers on the wooden top as I waited for our order. I surveyed the crowded room. My years with Clare had given me enough of an education in fashion to know the fabrics swirling around me were authentic and expensive. The way the seams were all but invisible, the well-placed zippers within them, and intricate beading stitched on, as opposed to glued. The nuances were small, but they were there.
Diamonds sparkled like fireflies under the twinkling lights. They dripped off ears; gripped collars, wrists, fingers; and decorated hairlines. There was enough money adorning the woman beside me for me to buy myself a new car. Hell, it would probably buy me an entire lot of cars.
My lip twitched, and I pressed my mouth shut. Shit, Veronica was right about my savior complex. Well, I’d have to shove all this judgment bullshit down for the night. After all, the whole reason I was here was to find an investor for my blankets. If this worked, standing in a room that reeked of Chanel No. 5 and money would be worth it.
I grabbed our drinks and hunted for Veronica and our table. She stood near the corner of the room, talking to a dark-haired man and a blond woman. Their features came into focus as I approached and I sucked in a breath. I totally recognized the dude. Gavin Hartley. A big movie star who’d made it even bigger with a hit television show. Every woman I knew had at least some hint of a crush on him. I couldn’t really blame them. Even I could admit the guy was attractive. One of those jaws an artist would describe as chiseled. Blue eyes women told me smoldered. And the guy had a hard time keeping his shirt on. It seemed like any pictures I saw of him were all hell-bent on reminding me that I didn’t go to the gym nearly enough.
The woman at his side seemed as out of place at this party as I was. While she was very pretty, she looked more like a girl you’d order pizza and watch a game with than accompany to charity banquets. Long blond hair curled down her back. She wore a fraction of the makeup Veronica did, not even bothering to hide the white scar that snaked down the side of her face. She wore a pale green dress that covered the parts Veronica chose to expose, and more vines of white scar tissue crept above the neckline of her dress.
“I got your drink,” I said, handing Veronica the glass and eyeing the actor across from her.
“Bax, this is Gavin Hartley and his girlfriend—sorry, fiancée—Elise. I know them from . . . Well, we haven’t seen each other in years.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Elise stuck her hand out. There was a strange lilt in her voice, maybe an accent of some sort. I couldn’t quite place it.
“Hey.” Gavin gave me a nod.
“So, you’re friends of Veronica’s?” I asked.
Elise snickered. “I’m not sure friends is the right word. Not that I didn’t try. Veronica helped me out with something way back when.”
“And Gavin and I dated before they did,” Veronica said.
The couple stiffened. “There’s that,” Elise said in a small voice.
Gavin looked from his bride-to-be to Veronica and then to me. “At least you know her real name. When we dated, I thought her name was Aubrey.”
“Oh, we’re not dating,” I said. “And I originally thought her name was Rachel.”
Elise frowned. “So not much has changed. You still prefer to be other people. That’s so sad. I was hoping you’d have found your happiness by now.”
Veronica’s hand curled around her glass. “Who says I haven’t?” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy.”
“Huh?” Elise squinted. “I didn’t catch that.”
Gavin tapped her shoulder, then proceeded to perform a strange set of hand gestures. Oh, the lilt. It wasn’t an accent. Elise was deaf. And Gavin Hartley knew sign language. Would wonders never cease? He must’ve translated what Veronica had said, because Elise studied my partner, then signed something back to Gavin.
Elise bobbed her head. “I’m glad you’re happy, Veronica. I really am.” She looked at me. “And boyfriend or not, the way you stare at her, angle toward her . . . I think you’re the reason for it. Despite everything we went through, Veronica, everyone deserves a happy ending. Even you.” She touched my wrist. “Hang in there, Bax. I wish you guys a lot of luck.”
I opened my mouth to remind her again there was nothing between Veronica and me, but a reporter who wanted to take their picture had already pounced on the celebrity couple.
“I’m guessing this is one more thing you don’t want to talk about,” I said.
“You got that right.” Veronica took a swig of her champagne. “Our table is over here. Come on, they’ll be serving the first course soon.”
We took our seats at a round, ten-person table. Already, other couples and singles occupied most of the chairs. They spoke in hushed voices and munched on the rolls from the center of the table. I gave Veronica a sideways look.
“Fine.” She pushed the breadbasket toward me. “Have the bread if you like.”
I pulled out a still-warm roll and broke it open. The scent of baked bread wafted from my palm. “Here. Have half.” I placed a piece of the roll on her plate. She picked it up and bit down without a word.
“Oh, that’s adorable,” the woman beside me said in a tinkling voice. “Herberto, do you remember when we used to share food like that?”
“We still do,” the man I assumed to be Herberto said. “Just, now, you automatically own half of what I have.”
The pair laughed and I glanced at Veronica. A crumb perched in the sparkling lip gloss on the center of her plump bottom lip. I shoved the rest of my roll into my mouth so I wouldn’t be tempted to kiss it off.
“Oh,” the woman said. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Catia Garcia, and this is my husband, Herb.”
The couple was older than us, maybe in their mid-fifties. Both were tanned and sporting bling—her in the form of a diamond necklace, him in matching cuff links; their age was only made obvious by the lines that tracked out from her eyes and etched along his forehead. I tried to speak, but a mouth full of roll choked off the words.
“Charlotte and Grant Dixon,” Veronica said, not missing a beat. “Pleased to meet you.”
Catia’s lips arced downward. She glanced at her husband, who raised his shoulders.
“The thing is,” she leaned forward and spoke in a whisper, “we’re good friends with the Dixons. We know you’re not them.”
I thumped my chest as the last bit of bread clung to my esophagus. Shit. Well, that was that. I pushed on the table and started to stand.
Veronica placed her hand over mine, halting me. “We actually snuck in,” she admitted. I gaped at her. “We just got married at town hall and couldn’t afford a big party like this one. We saw on the list the Dixons weren’t coming, so we took their place. Won’t you keep our little secret?” Her bottom lip trembled. “All I want is a romantic night with my new husband.”
I held my breath. There was no way Catia and Herberto would believe that. I couldn’t figure out why she’d said we were married. There were other lies, better lies. Like being friends of the Dixons, or winning the tickets, or wandering in here by accident . . . but married?
She’d said something right though, because Catia’s face lit up like the Rockefeller tree at Christmas. She clapped her hands together. “Oh! Newlyweds! How wonderful.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us. Herb and I are nothing if not romantics. Congratulations. Have a wonderful wedding night.”
“Er, thank you,” I said.
A server approached our table and the Garcias spoke to him in wine language—a dialect I’d never fully understood.
I snapped my head to Veronica. “Why did you say that?”
She bent into me, her strawberry perfume spinning through my head as she whispered into my ear. “I checked up on everyone who was listed as coming to this thing. The Garcias are ridiculously wealthy. They came to the States from Portugal with nothing. They sold his art on the street, and the pieces caught on after a famous rock star bought one and posted it online. They now sell at auction for millions.”
I wished I had another roll to shove into my gaping mouth, since it wasn’t closing of its own volition.
“They’re very into helping out the less fortunate,” she continued. “They still remember what it was like to be poor and struggling. They even lived on the street for a while.” My eyebrows shot up. “They are very generous with those causes they believe in. In fact, I pulled some strings so we’d be at the same table as them. I think they might actually like your idea.”
“Okay,” I whispered from the side of my mouth, “I get cozying up to them, but why tell them we’re married?”
“Didn’t you see?” Her breath tickled my ear and shivers shot down my spine. “They loved how you gave me half your roll. They haven’t stopped holding hands since we sat down. If I remember correctly, they were childhood sweethearts. Couples like that, they love to see other couples. It reminds them of their earlier days together, makes them happy. And, right now, I say we concentrate on making them happy.”
“How?”
“Don’t talk business, even if they ask. We’ll try to get another meeting with them. Keep them interested in us. Talk love and romance and all that cheesy crap.”
“I suppose you want me to leave out the ‘cheesy crap’ bit?”
She blew an escaped lock of hair off her face. “Of course, dumbass. That goes without saying.”
“Look at them, Herb. Whispering sweet nothings to each other like we used to.” Catia’s voice jolted me away from Veronica.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “The things Veronica whispers to me are magical. She sure knows how to make me feel special.” Catia’s smile grew as Veronica’s grip on my hand tightened. Her fingernails pressed into my flesh. I grinned through the stabbing pain. “Isn’t that right, Love Kitten?”
“It certainly is, Cuddle Bear.” I could practically hear the nausea in her voice. It took downing my drink to stop myself from laughing.
“And they even have pet names!” Catia beamed. “Aren’t they cute?”
“Very, darling,” Herb said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we ever got your actual names. I’d prefer not to call you Cuddle Bear and Love Kitten.”
“I’m Baxter, and this is Veronica. My . . . my wife.”
The words settled on my tongue with the comfort of a dozen bee stings. I’d planned on using that word for Clare. Wife, spouse, bride—all those titles were once meant to belong to her. And I’d just wasted them on a woman I hadn’t even married yet.
Yet.
I frowned as the word passed through my brain. There had to be a broken switch somewhere up there. Veronica would never be my wife. I was no more than her client, and she’d made that very apparent on more than one occasion. But man, the way she filled in that dress, and how when she got close my lungs shrank as all the oxygen was sucked away, and those moments she’d softened. With Ari, with Connor, even with me for a flash. There were moments where if I let myself really think about it . . .
“And what do you two do?” Herb asked, breaking me from my ridiculous thoughts.
“Oh, I’m an entrepreneur, and Veronica is my business partner.” The tip of an expensive shoe stabbed into my calf and I grunted. “But I don’t want to talk business tonight. We are here to celebrate our love. Tell me, how long have you two been together? How did you meet?”
Catia started into a story about meeting Herb on the playground back in Portugal as our salad course arrived. Over pasta, then steak, then dessert, she fleshed out their romance and walked me through their life in a way that made me feel I’d lived it with them.
Their love radiated off them through the meal. The way they always remained touching, how he traded her half of his steak for some of her chicken, the moments he ran his hand through her fluffy orange-red-dyed hair and she never recoiled.
My éclair tasted bitter as I swallowed the last bite, my thoughts once again on Clare and how I’d always thought we’d be this couple. We’d also known each other since school, only I’d met her in high school. But I’d been so sure she was the one.
And, in a way, she was—the one to wrap my heart with dynamite and stomp on it before pressing the button.
I took a sip of my coffee to wash down the éclair and the memories. A full band replaced the string quartet on the small stage set up in the corner, and the soft violins morphed into strumming guitars.
Without hesitation, Herb stood and extended his hand to his wife. Catia joined him and looked back at us. “You two should dance. After all, it’s your wedding.”
She threw a wink over her shoulder and they glided to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room.
“Should we?” I moved my coffee cup around the saucer. “Dance, I mean?”
Veronica watched the swaying bodies for a moment, then let out a long breath. “I suppose. They haven’t shown interest in talking to us after tonight, so we’d better get out there and show them what we’ve got.”
We found a spot near the Garcias and I took Veronica in my arms. I settled one hand on her waist and one on her shoulder, waiting for her to bristle and brush me off. Instead, to my surprise, she rolled her eyes.
“Bax, this isn’t going to cut it. We just got married. We have a whole wedding night to look forward to. You need to hold me like you can’t wait to get me out of here.”
She pressed her body into me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I closed my eyes as her fruity perfume and natural scent pulsed through my senses. Moving both hands to her hips, I held her against me. She tensed and I cursed myself.
I opened my eyes to find her staring up at me. Without knowing what she was looking for, I smiled. And her body relaxed, her curves dissolving against me.
We moved together to some slowed-down pop hit, but I couldn’t make it out, because all my focus was on her. The way her ass swayed beneath my palms, the beat of her heart against my chest, the smell of her hair. Both of our breaths sounded louder than the drums of the band in my ear. She mostly watched me, her eyes flickering to the Garcias every so often to make sure they were still near. But when her gaze was on me, when those dark green eyes held me, it felt like being sucked into one of those crazy expensive vacuums. I didn’t stand a chance against those eyes.
“Bax,” she said, “kiss me.”
“What?” I swallowed, despite the lack of saliva in my mouth.
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“The Garcias are getting tired. They might leave soon. We have to get their attention.”
“But—”
“Oh, for crying out loud.”
Veronica tugged on the back of my neck and her lips rammed into mine. At first, I was too stunned to move, but her mouth remained insistent. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the way we connected. Our mouths moved as if they already knew each other, and when her lips parted, my tongue was there to meet hers. She gasped, her breasts heaving against me, and I took in that extra air, as though I was underwater and she was the tank I required to breathe.
The room fell away as we kissed. The Garcias and the bad cover band faded into the background as the pounding of our hearts took over. My hands roamed over her hair, her back, her waist, her hips. Her tongue found its way into my mouth, and I moaned. I pressed into her, knowing she could feel how much I wanted her. I needed to take more than her mouth. I needed all of her.
She pressed her palms against my chest and pulled back too suddenly. “Bax,” she gasped. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair had fallen where I’d mussed it. “I think that was good enough. Very convincing.”
“Right.” I took a breath, willing my pulse to return to normal, as well as other things to do the same.
“My goodness, that was quite the kiss.” Catia and Herb danced over to us. “It’s easy to see why you got married. Phew, I almost need to fan myself.” She laughed.
Fan myself. Good idea. But I needed a fucking air conditioner. Cranked to full blast. While I stood inside a refrigerator.
Veronica stood a foot away from me, one arm crossed over her body, rubbing her other arm as though she was cold and staring at something behind me. I followed her gaze to the corner where a man in the same penguin suit as me stood. He was all dark eyes and hair, the one exception being the white bandage that covered his nose. Someone stepped in front of me, and then the crowd swallowed him. Veronica exhaled as he disappeared.
“Look,” Catia said. “Herb and I figured since you didn’t get a wedding, perhaps you also will be missing out on a honeymoon?”
Dealing in Deception Page 12
