Like real stupid.

  Like I wish I could contact Alex again and tell him I want that recording destroyed. Not like I signed a contract or anything. I’m not legally bound to him. I’ve changed my mind, and I no longer want that recording to exist.

  Easy as that.

  “Are you okay, Caroline?” My friend Sarah is sitting to my right, and she’s resting her hand on my arm, her gaze full of concern. She works at a high-end lingerie store that’s not too far from Noteworthy, and we do lunch together at least once a week. I consider her a good friend, probably my closest after Stella. “You look a little…preoccupied.”

  “I’m fine.” I rest my hand over hers and give it a squeeze. “Just a lot on my mind.”

  “Want to talk about it over lunch? Maybe on Wednesday?” Sarah asks.

  “That sounds good.” Sarah would listen to my crazy story without judgment. That’s what I love about her. Actually, I love that about all of my friends. None of them really judge me too hard. Oh, we give each shit for fashion choices—Stella’s flowy dress as an example—and sometimes we’re hard on each other when it comes to our love lives, but it’s never mean spirited. More than anything, we try to uplift each other. That’s what friends are for, right?

  I love my girls. And they love me.

  I’ve already had two glasses of wine and I’m working on my third. I’m a little emotional. I also need to pee, so I excuse myself from the table and make my way to the bathroom. Every table at the restaurant is full, and the bar is packed, so I’m squeezing through crowds, smiling at familiar faces. Carmel is a small town, and when you live in the area your entire life, then end up working here too? It kind of feels like you know everyone.

  After I’m finished, I exit the bathroom and cut through the bar, headed for my table when I spot a familiar face sitting alone.

  Stopping in my tracks, I study her. And I’m pretty sure that’s Alex’s assistant?

  “Hey.” I approach her, and she turns, a faint smile curling her lips for the briefest moment before it disappears. “Aren’t you…”

  “Kelsey. I work for Alex Wilder.” Her little smile remains in place, and it’s feeble at best. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me? “You’re Caroline.”

  “Yes, hey, good to see you again.” I’m about to leave, considering how awkward this feels, but then I notice how her smile falls away completely, replaced by a full-on down-in-the-dumps expression.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve just been stood up,” she admits, her voice cracking.

  “Aww.” I reach out and touch her upper arm, then pat her shoulder. “No way.”

  “Yeah, I think so.” She nods, her jaw working. If she cries over being stood up, I’m going to get mad on her behalf, I swear. “He’s forty-five minutes late. And he won’t answer my texts or calls.”

  “What an asshole! Like, you’re the most beautiful woman in this entire bar!” I shake my head. “And I’m not saying that because I’m drunk either.”

  Kelsey laughs. “I think you’re my new best friend.”

  “I’m serious.” I laugh with her. “So. Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know what went wrong. We met at a co-ed bridal shower a few weeks ago, and we just clicked, ya know? We exchanged numbers and we’ve been texting for weeks. Our schedules were always so busy, though, it was hard for us to make a date. So we finally decide to meet her tonight for drinks and dinner and now he’s a total no-show.” Kelsey frowns, and even when she does that, she’s still devastatingly beautiful. I should sort of hate her. “I don’t understand why he didn’t show up. He hasn’t called me or texted me with an excuse. It’s just so weird.”

  “Maybe he freaked out,” I suggest.

  “Freaked out over what?”

  “That you’re so beautiful. Maybe he doesn’t think he measures up.”

  Kelsey’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m not that beautiful.”

  “You’re absolutely freakin’ gorgeous. I noticed that first thing when I saw you in the office earlier.”

  She pats my arm. “You’re way too sweet.”

  “No, I’m actually not,” I tell her, making her laugh. “But I am honest.”

  Her laughter dies, but she’s still smiling, and that makes me happy. “I’m glad you stopped and talked to me. You made the night a little better.”

  “I can make it a lot better,” I tell her. “You should join our table.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t,” she starts to protest, but I shake my head, taking her hand and pulling her off the barstool.

  “I insist.” I spot Stella’s other brother working behind the bar. “Tony, add this lady’s drink to our tab, okay?”

  “Got it, Caro,” Tony yells, giving me the thumbs-up.

  “Are you serious? I don’t want to crash your date,” Kelsey says as I take her hand and lead her into the restaurant.

  “I’m not on a date. I’m having dinner with a bunch of friends,” I explain.

  “I don’t want to crash your party either.”

  “You’re not crashing anything. We love new friends. Trust me!” We stop at the table and I put my arm around Kelsey’s shoulders. “Everyone, this is our new friend, Kelsey. Kelsey, this is…everyone.”

  They all shout their hellos, and soon chairs are moving, an extra one is found, and Kelsey is wedged between me and Sarah at the end of the table.

  I’m so, so tempted to pick her brain about Alex Wilder and what she might know about him, but I can’t do that. I’ll look like some sort of psycho, and that’s not cool.

  But God, there are so many questions I could ask her. I drink another glass of wine, and so does Kelsey, and soon I don’t have to ask her anything. She just starts volunteering information.

  “So you know Alex, huh? Are you guys like…friends?” Kelsey’s cheeks are flushed, she’s a lightweight like me, and I know this is probably the alcohol talking, which isn’t good. But I don’t care.

  I want the dirt.

  “We knew each other a long time ago,” I tell her, and she gets a sly look on her face.

  “Former lovers?”

  My body goes hot at just hearing the word lovers. Yikes, I’m a perv. One kiss when I was a tween definitely doesn’t make us lovers. “No, more like old childhood friends. Sort of. Alex was my older brother’s best friend when I was, like, twelve. ”

  “Oh. Interesting.” Kelsey nods, a little smile curving her full lips.

  “Not like we hung out that much. Well, we sort of did. He’d come over to our house a lot,” I explain. “We reconnected only a week ago. I work at the stationery store where he and his fiancée ordered their wedding invitations and save the date cards.”

  I clamp my lips shut when I notice the slightly dazed look in Kelsey’s eyes. I am totally rambling.

  “Oh yeah. Tiffany.” The sour expression on Kelsey’s face cannot be denied. Seeing it gives me a giddy feeling I shouldn’t have.

  “You don’t like her?” I keep my voice even. I don’t want to betray that I don’t like her either. The cheater.

  “Oh God, I hate her, and it sucks because I have to be nice to her since I work for him. She’s so awful. Pretty sure she’s marrying him for his money and that’s it.” Kelsey takes another swig of her fresh glass of wine. Someone topped it off for her, not sure who. The wine is seriously flowing tonight.

  I’m kind of scared to see the bill.

  “You really think so?” I ask.

  Kelsey nods. “Absolutely. They haven’t been together very long. And Alex seemed to sort of fall into their relationship. She pursued him heavily. It was like one minute he’s kind of seeing this woman, and the next minute they’re engaged. Though I haven’t seen a ring yet, so…”

  “Yeah, I noticed that. Kind of weird, don’t you think?”

  “Totally weird. I don’t know the story behind that. Wish I did, though. I’m sure whatever the reason is, if she had her choice, she’d be flashing that diamond all over town.”

  “She seems like the type who’d want to show off the ring,” I agree, hesitating before I ask my next question. “Do you like working for him?”

  “I do. He’s fair. Tough. Sometimes he makes me crazy. He tends to forget that we’re not workaholics like he is. I’ve had him text me at three in the morning asking for something. I’ve had him call me at eleven at night. Or on a Sunday—he calls me on Sunday a lot. What if I was at church?” Kelsey laughs.

  None of what she’s saying surprises me. He has workaholic written all over him. And thank God he doesn’t seem like such a bad guy. Maybe a little distant, but I can’t blame him for that, especially with everything that’s happened the last few days. He’s a private person. Probably has to be, what with all that money he’s got.

  “I hate to say this, but I doubt their marriage will last,” Kelsey says, her cheeks going pink. “You probably think I’m a terrible employee, going on and on about my boss’s private business, but you have to understand. That woman he plans on marrying isn’t good for him. Not that I can tell him that.”

  “Of course you can’t,” I reassure her, wishing I could confess the entire sordid story to her.

  I can’t. That would be breaking Alex’s trust, and no way do I want to do that. Not now, when he’s walked back into my life again.

  Eleven

  Alex

  I am not an indecisive person. I go after what I want. My father taught me that in business, and in life, if you hesitate for even a minute, you allow someone else the chance to gain on you.

  And that is the last thing a Wilder ever wants to happen.

  As the firstborn son, from the moment I was a small child, I knew I was the heir apparent to the Wilder Corporation. My sister Meredith works for the family business as well. But my brother, James?

  He’s autistic. High functioning, plus he works at the Wilder Corporate offices, but he will most likely live with my parents until they’re gone. And once they’re gone, he will most likely live with Meredith or me. I’d rather it be me.

  That’s a little something I haven’t discussed with Tiffany yet.

  Not that I need to discuss shit with her now. After what Caroline told me, I decided to do some investigating of my own. The Wilder Corporation has attorneys on retainer—all large companies do. It’s smart business practice. The Wilder Corporation also has a private investigator on hand.

  Needless to say, I had a call into Jack Chung within minutes of Caroline’s departure.

  It took a couple of days—and I haven’t mentioned a damn word to Tiffany, just kept up the pretense of the loving, busy-with-work fiancé—but Jack is now sitting in my office this afternoon, a large envelope in his hands that I’m dying to tear into.

  “What did you find out?” I ask once we’ve moved through the niceties.

  The look on Jack’s face is nothing short of uncomfortable. “Let’s just say you weren’t wrong in your suspicions.”

  “So you saw her with someone else.” It’s not a question, more like a statement, and that sinking feeling in my gut is more fueled by anger, not sadness.

  Jack nods. Holds up the envelope. “I have photos, though I don’t know if you want to see them.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Are they explicit?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Jack laughs nervously. “They’re just…”

  I wave my fingers at him in the universal give them to me sign. “Let me see them.”

  He hands the envelope over and I open it, slowly pulling the photos out.

  I can immediately see they’ve been blown up. Most likely they were taken by someone’s phone from a distance. The quality isn’t the best, but they’re good enough for me to see that it is definitely Tiffany. And she’s definitely with a man that’s not me.

  “I have better ones. Taken with an actual camera,” Jack says.

  One by one, I flip through the photos, and Jack’s right. He does have better photos. Most of them are taken in public places. The ones taken with the phone are at a beach—the one near Spyglass, looks like. They’re sitting together on a blanket, the wind blowing through Tiffany’s hair—her best asset, in my opinion—and she’s either leaning her head on his shoulder or turned toward him, talking animatedly.

  Anger simmers in my gut, making me press my lips together. That she can sit in front of me and proclaim her love. Sleep in the same bed with me at night. Spend my money freely on this sham of a wedding that she’s planning…

  It’s fucking unbelievable, the gall of this woman.

  The clearer photos are taken around Carmel. The two of them eating at a restaurant—looks like Tuscany, a place we’ve actually frequented. There’s one of them in front of a boutique hotel that sits right on Ocean Avenue, close to the public beach. They’re embracing. Kissing. I don’t recognize the man, have no idea who he is, but I wonder how he can stand to be with a woman who is engaged to be married to another man.

  To me.

  Why the hell does she even want a ring from me, if she’s sneaking around town with her lover?

  “I can set my guys to follow her around some more,” Jack suggests, but I shake my head. Drop the photos on the desk so they land with a soft plop.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I tell him, keeping my voice even. “This is more than enough proof of her infidelity.”

  “They went into that hotel together,” Jack adds, leaning over my desk to tap his fingers on the discarded photos, pulling out the one with them in front of the hotel entrance. “There’s a printed log of her every step for the last forty-eight hours or so. I sent it to you via email as well. One of my detectives is still tailing her as we currently speak.”

  “Call him off,” I say, reaching into the envelope and pulling out the detailed log. He’s got it broken down by days and time, all locations noted. All of her lies thoroughly examined by a professional. “This is perfect, Jack. Thank you for doing this.”

  Jack remains still for a moment, and I can tell he’s practically squirming in his seat. For having so many years being a private detective under his belt, he does seem rather uncomfortable in delivering this bad news. I’d think he’d be used to it by now.

  “I’m sorry it turned out this way,” he finally says. “I never enjoy delivering this sort of news to my clients.”

  “I already knew,” I tell him, though yes. I agree with him. The revelation hurts.

  But not as deep as I thought it would.

  Twelve

  Caroline

  I’m almost finished with a client—the bride-to-be is forty-five, didn’t bother bringing in her fiancé because she knows exactly what she wants, and is thrilled with her choices for both the save the date cards and the invitations—when I spot a redheaded woman storming into Noteworthy.

  My heart trips over itself because I recognize that woman.

  It’s Tiffany Ratcliffe.

  And I’m positive she’s looking for me.

  “Brandy.” I smile at my new client and rise to my feet, gathering up the paperwork and holding it close to my chest along with my iPad. “Do you mind if we finish everything up in the office in the back?”

  I never do this, take clients to Iris’s office, but I know exactly who Tiffany is looking for, and I do not want to see her.

  Like, ever.

  “Of course.” Brandy stands, looking a little confused, but I come around the table, gently take her arm, and steer her toward Iris’s office. “We’re almost done, right?”

  “So close to being done,” I assure her, glancing over my shoulder to see Cassie trying to calm Tiffany down, but Tiffany doesn’t appear calm. Not at all. Poor Cassie. She looks super flustered. “Just a few more details and then you can be on your way.”

  I lock us into Iris’s office and speed through the rest of the forms, thankful Brandy is so agreeable. I hand her copies of the order forms and the credit card receipt for her purchase, then allow her to exit outside Iris’s back door that leads to the parking lot. It’s the door we all use at the end of the night if we’re closing. We never allow customers to use it.

  Truthfully, I’m just stalling for time and hoping like hell Tiffany leaves.

  Once Brandy exits the building, I consider following after her, but I also know that Cassie would kill me if I left her alone with Tiffany. Reluctantly, I shut and lock the door, then lean against it, resting my hand over my chest so I can feel my racing heart.

  Damn it, I need to calm down. I also do not want to face the wrath of Tiffany. That she showed up here so angry tells me that Alex broke his word and shared the recording of me spilling my story with her.

  What a jerk.

  Part of this is my own fault, I guess, since I never did manage to call and tell him I wanted that recording destroyed. I should’ve. I knew I should’ve, but Tuesday morning I woke up with a wretched hangover after that fun night at Tuscany. The hangover lingered in the form of a splitting headache all day at work, and I went to bed early that night. Wednesday is when I schedule the majority of my appointments, so I was swamped the entire day.

  And then the rest of the week flew by me so I sort of forgot about…everything.

  Not like I actually forgot that I spilled the beans in regards to Tiffany’s secret hookup, but I’ve been super busy with work and life stuff. It happens, right?

  There’s a knock on the office door and I startle, my stomach twisting when the door handle wiggles.

  “Caroline? Are you in there?” It’s Cassie, and oh shit, she sounds stressed the hell out.

  “Hold on.” I go to the door, unlock it, and only open it an inch or two, relief flooding me when I see that Cassie is alone. “Come in.”

  She sneaks inside the office and I shut the door again. Lock it. Because I don’t trust Tiffany. At all. She might try to bust inside. “She’s here to see me, isn’t she?”

  Cassie nods, her hazel eyes huge. “Her name is Tiffany, she told me. And she’s flipping out. Says that you, and I quote, ‘ruined everything’.”