by Maggie Way
“What?”
“Now that we know how he’s tracking us, we should use it to our advantage.”
“You don’t want us to destroy it?” Ricard asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“No,” Zoey said. “If we destroy the tracker, how are we going to lead Alan to the fake wedding and convince him it’s real?”
She was right. Bile rose in Mitch’s throat as he slowly placed the tracker back on his shoe, pressing it flat against the leather. “We’ll keep the tracker,” he told Ricard. “But please search the rest of the apartment so we can make sure it’s the only one.”
“Of course, monsieur,” Ricard said.
He and Adelaide left the room, but Mitch remained on the edge of Zoey’s bed, feeling numb.
His fault. Alan could very well crash Brooke and Luke’s wedding, but Zoey wouldn’t be the one to blame.
A hand landed on his back, and Mitch looked over to see Zoey staring at him with concerned eyes. She slowly rubbed circles on his back. “I can’t believe he’s been tracking us,” she said. “I really thought they’d find nothing.”
“It was me all along,” Mitch said.
“You couldn’t have known.”
Mitch rubbed a hand over his face, mind churning. “I don’t understand how he got the tracker on my shoe.”
“I know, it’s weird. I mean—” Zoey’s eyes widened. “I dropped my purse.”
“Huh?”
“At the charity gala. I dropped my purse right in front of you, and Alan picked it up. He must’ve stuck it on your shoe then.”
And Mitch hadn’t suspected a thing. “This is unbelievable. All this time, it was my fault.”
“It was an accident. Things happen.”
“How are you not furious with me right now?”
“Mitch, come on. It’s not like you’ve intentionally been feeding Alan our location. You’ve been working your butt off to keep him away.”
“Unsuccessfully.”
“You can’t beat yourself up over this. He could’ve just as easily tagged me.”
“So why didn’t he?”
“I don’t know.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I was wearing stilettos that night, so he would’ve had to place the sticker on the sole of my foot—not exactly easy to do unnoticed. Besides, women change shoes frequently. You wear the same pair every day.”
His dependability had been their downfall. He stared at Zoey. He’d never considered her spontaneity an asset.
“This means he knows where Luke’s apartment is,” Mitch said.
“The doorman will keep him out.”
“Brooke and Luke can’t stay here when they come.”
“Then we’ll book them a hotel suite.” She ran her hands up and down his arms in a comforting gesture. “This is good news, Mitch. We know how he’s tracking us. We can use it to make sure he believes the fake wedding.”
“If we’d found the tracker earlier, there’d be no need for such an elaborate plan.”
“Okay, you’re done obsessing over this.”
“We need to figure out—”
“And we will. Later. You need to take a half hour and calm down.” Zoey stood, pulling him up with her.
“We don’t have time to calm down.”
“We don’t have time not to.”
Mitch stared at her, and then his shoulders slumped. His way wasn’t the only way. It wasn’t even the best way. He needed to allow Zoey the freedom to take the lead. They were better when they worked together.
“What do you have in mind?” Mitch asked, his voice wary.
Zoey pulled him into the living room and pushed the coffee table up against the wall. Mitch could hear Ricard and Adelaide sweeping for bugs in his bedroom.
“Yoga,” Zoey said.
Yoga. He could already feel his breathing slowing, just at the suggestion. “You do yoga?”
“I’ve taken a few classes at the gym.” She sank to the floor with her legs beneath her, stretching until her forehead touched the ground in resting child pose. Her hair fell forward, brushing the floor, and her shoulders relaxed and arms extended as she let out a slow breath.
I love her. The realization took his breath away.
She pulled her hair aside and peered up at him. “Well, are you joining me or what?”
Mitch stripped his suit jacket off and sank to the floor beside her, assuming the pose.
He. Loved. Zoey.
He had stubbornly blamed her for leading Alan to them. He had argued with her almost constantly. He had refused to recognize that her way might also be right and had tried to force her to conform to his ideas.
But Zoey was perfect just the way she was. She had flaws, but so did he. And together, they balanced each other out.
Zoey slowly arched out of resting child pose and rose to downward dog. Mitch followed her lead, letting the breaths clear his mind as his muscles stretched and released the tension.
He would be a fool to let Zoey go. She made him feel alive the way no other woman had. She made him more relaxed, more fun, but didn’t try to change him. He loved the person he was when they were together, and he felt like he was missing a limb when they were apart.
This weekend, they would hold a wedding for Alan’s sake. Zoey would wear a white dress—okay, this was Zoey, so the color was up for debate—and walk down an aisle toward him. They would say “I do” in front of the minister and government representative.
And he wanted the wedding to be real.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zoey stared at herself in the mirror, smoothing down the filmy skirt on her sky blue dress. She adjusted the top and fluffed her hair, then nodded. She was rehearsal ready.
Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them back. She’d missed Brooke the last two weeks. She and Luke had arrived in Paris two days ago, but Zoey and Mitch hadn’t seen the couple yet—they’d been too busy distracting Alan from the real wedding with plans for the fake one. But tonight, Zoey would finally see her best friend again.
Zoey would focus on that. Not Alan. Not her own maybe-wedding. Not on the fact that after tomorrow, she and Brooke would no longer be roommates.
Brooke was finding her happily ever after. That was a good thing.
Zoey and Mitch had spent most of the day apart, running separate errands for both the real wedding and the fake one. It had felt strange to be away from him. Wrong. As she tried to pick flowers for her bouquet or a menu for their post-wedding dinner for two or a million other small details, she’d found herself longing for Mitch’s calm and decisive manner. Which was stupid. She’d survived a long time on her own. So why could she suddenly not imagine life without him?
A light knock sounded at the door, pulling her from her thoughts. Zoey put her hands to her suddenly blazing cheeks, shaking her head. Her stomach should not be trembling like this after only eight hours apart.
“Come in,” Zoey said.
The door creaked open, and Mitch poked his head inside. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Zoey’s heart pounded, and she had to fight the urge to throw herself across the room and into his arms. He looked so dashing in his traditional black tux, the white of his shirt making his skin an even deeper black. She’d missed him so much today.
Zoey grabbed her small clutch off the bed and nodded. “Ready.”
Two bellboys were already in the front room, their arms overflowing with garment bags and boxes holding various items for Zoey and Mitch’s fake wedding. Zoey took a deep breath, trying to stop her heart from racing.
Maybe they wouldn’t have to go through with the wedding. Maybe Alan had given up and gone home.
Mitch held open the door, and they made their way to the elevator, the bellboys following behind them.
“Any sign of Alan?” Zoey asked.
Mitch nodded. “He’s been following me most of the day, but he hasn’t tried to talk to me. Phillipe and I lost him a few times so he wouldn’t get suspicious. He’s here now. Luke’s se
curity noticed him across the street about an hour ago. All the errands today must’ve convinced him the wedding is happening soon.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, but what about the rehearsal at Versailles? We’re not going to let him follow us there, right?”
Mitch ran a hand over his hair, and they stepped into the elevator. “Luke and I discussed that. I’ve worn these shoes every day since we got here. Alan will get suspicious if we’re suddenly stationary for an entire night.”
“But if he follows us to the rehearsal, he’ll see Brooke and Luke.” And the last two days of avoiding them would be for nothing.
“I know, but we also need him there for our wedding. And if we let him follow us there for ours, he’ll see Brooke and Luke’s rehearsal. So they’ve decided to reschedule it for tomorrow morning and just have the family dinner tonight.”
Zoey grabbed Mitch’s arm, feeling dizzy. “Wait. Brooke knows about the fake wedding?”
“No, but Luke convinced her Alan might give up by morning, and it would be safe then.”
Zoey shoulders ached with tension. “I guess that means it’s our job to convince him our wedding’s real.”
“Yeah.” The elevator doors pinged open, and Mitch ran a hand over his face. “I feel like such an idiot.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“Telling Luke about the tracker was humiliating.”
“He doesn’t blame you.”
“I know. That’s almost worse.”
Zoey frowned, wishing she could wipe the worry off Mitch’s face. She’d thought the worst possible thing would be if the security firm found a tracker in her purse. But now she wished Alan had been following her instead of Mitch, because she hated seeing him beat himself up.
Zoey pushed open the glass doors, and the bellboys loaded the wedding attire into the back of the car trunk. Zoey and Mitch slipped inside the car, and a moment later, Phillipe pulled into traffic.
Zoey glanced out the rear window, searching for Alan. A few car lengths back, a black motorcycle followed them. The rider was generic enough—black leather riding jacket, silver helmet, and jeans. But the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she knew it was him.
“See him?” Mitch asked.
“Maybe.”
“Phillipe, take a turn here,” Mitch said. “Let’s see if he follows.”
“Oui.” Phillipe took a sharp left. Alan stayed on their tail, but remained a safe distance behind them.
“Crap,” Zoey said. “And now he’s trying to be discrete.”
“He doesn’t want to risk losing us. I’m betting he can sense the wedding’s close.” Mitch patted her knee, causing shivers to ricochet up her spine. “This is a good thing. He saw us load all the wedding attire into the car.”
“Yeah, but maybe he’ll guess that we’re trying to throw him off the trail.”
“And maybe he’ll believe our story.”
“When did you become the optimist?”
“I guess you bring out the best in me.”
Zoey’s cheeks flushed, and she fumbled for her phone, desperate for a distraction. “Dinner is still three hours away.”
“Now it’s in an hour. Brooke and Luke decided to move up the time, since we’ll have an early morning with the rehearsal.”
Zoey nodded, her stomach rumbling like she’d swallowed Mexican jumping beans. “I guess you got everything confirmed with Versailles for tonight?”
“Yes.”
“This feels so weird, like a breach of the best friend code or something.”
“You’re doing this to help Brooke.”
“Yeah, but I’m stealing her wedding venue. I better call Brooke and let her know we’ve got a tail.”
“Is it even worth it to try and lose him? He’s keeping his distance, and he’ll just use the tracker and find us again.”
“Yeah, but if we don’t try to lose him, it might look suspicious, especially since we can’t lose him on the way to Versailles.”
Mitch nodded. “Okay. Call Brooke.”
Brooke answered almost immediately, her rosy cheeks and wide smile filling the screen. “Hey. Are you on your way to the restaurant? I desperately need help with my makeup. I still can’t get that smoky eye quite right.”
Zoey wanted to cry. Alan wasn’t ruining this wedding just for the bride and groom—he was ruining it for her, too. “I’m not sure I’ll be there in time.”
Brooke’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“We’ve got a tail, so we might be a little late.”
“He’s not going to leave us alone, is he?”
Zoey wished she could reach through the phone and hug her friend. Soon enough, she told herself. They would lose Alan, and she would make it to that rehearsal dinner on time.
Alan better hope she made it, or Zoey would personally hunt him down and make him wish he’d never come to Paris.
“I promise you, Brooke, nothing will happen to ruin this for you,” Zoey said. “Mitch and I have it one thousand percent under control. I don’t want you—or Luke—to worry about a thing. Okay?”
“Okay,” Brooke said quietly. “I’ll try.”
“I know it’s hard. But focus on what this weekend means. In less than twenty-four hours, you will be Mrs. Luke Ryder.”
Brooke’s smile returned, but it was dimmer than it had been before. “I can hardly believe it.”
“See you at the restaurant, okay? Your makeup looks amazing.”
“Okay, but I wanted your opinion on my dress, too.”
“You’re changing at the restaurant?”
Brooke looked around. “Well, yeah. We’ve been running around with Juliette all day, and there wasn’t time to go back to the hotel.”
“Your dress is stunning.”
“You can’t even see it.”
“Doesn’t matter. I know you’re glowing in it, and Luke won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”
Brooke laughed, some of her former sparkle returning. “I’ve missed you, Zo. See you soon.”
Zoey waved, then disconnected the call, resolve flooding through her.
“Let’s get on with it,” she told Mitch. “I am not letting that idiot make me miss one second of my best friend’s wedding.”
“You heard her, Phillipe,” Mitch said. “Let’s lose him.”
The next twenty minutes were terrifying. Aware they’d seen him, Alan stayed hot on their trail as Phillipe darted in and out of traffic, around corners, and through red lights. Eventually, they couldn’t see Alan anymore.
“I think we lost him,” Mitch said. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Hopefully he finds us again quickly, and then stays far enough away we can believably ignore him.”
“He’d be an imbecile to get too close when he thinks the wedding is happening,” Zoey said. “That was reckless.”
“He’s getting greedy and it’s making him dumb. Probably imaging what he’ll spend that fifty thousand dollars on.”
“Let’s hurry and get to the rehearsal dinner then, before he decides to be stupid and let us see him again.”
Phillipe pulled up to a white stone high-rise, and Mitch and Zoey got out of the car. She didn’t see Alan, but he’d show up soon enough. Would he try to follow them into the building? At least Brooke and Luke were already safely aside, away from his prying eyes.
Zoey and Mitch rode the elevator to the top floor. The doors slid open, and they stepped out.
Five doors stood along the three walls, but Zoey knew immediately which one was the restaurant, because an imposing man guarded it. He was dressed all in black, with a silver nameplate on the right breast pocket. Zoey could just make out the coiled wire leading to his ear piece.
“Good evening,” the man said—a security guard, she was sure.
“We’re here for the rehearsal dinner,” Mitch said, pulling the invitations out of his pocket.
The guard nodded, taking
the invitations. He carefully compared their names against the guest list. Zoey tapped her foot impatiently, glancing at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. Alan had cost them twenty minutes.
At least if he decided to come inside the building, he wouldn’t be able to get inside the restaurant. Hopefully he still had no idea Brooke and Luke were in the country. It made her feel marginally better.
The security guard handed the invitations back to Mitch. “You can go inside,” he said.
They’d made it.
Zoey peered around the restaurant, looking for Brooke. Floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides boasted a fantastic view of the city. Round tables were set with elegant china, and beautiful candelabras lit each table.
Brooke let out a squeal and ran across the room, then folded Zoey in a hug. “I was so worried you wouldn’t make it because of that awful reporter.”
“There is no way I would miss this.” Zoey gave her friend a tight squeeze.
“Well, Juliette assures me Alan can’t get in here, even if he shows up somehow. But I’d really rather he not know we’re in Paris.” Brooke grabbed both Mitch and Zoey’s arms and dragged them toward the front of the room. “You guys are at the head table with us.”
Luke walked over and brought Mitch in for a clap on the back. “Glad you made it,” he said. “How’s the situation with Alan?”
“Under control.” Mitch raised a meaningful eyebrow.
“Good.” Luke pulled Brooke in, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “See, everything’s fine. Do you think you can relax now and just enjoy the night?”
Brooke laughed, laying her head on Luke’s chest. “No promises, but I’ll try. Oh look, your mom’s here. We’d better go say hi.” She gave Zoey another hug. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done the last few weeks, Zo. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
“Anything for you.” Zoey gave Brooke one last squeeze. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Brooke nodded, and she left with Luke to greet their guests.
Dinner was blissfully calm. The food was fantastic, the setting small and intimate. Brooke’s parents both gave a toast, along with Luke’s mom. The laughter and alcohol were plentiful. But Zoey barely touched her wine.
No one liked a drunk bride.
