Page 24

“You didn’t seem to mind last night,” I remind him. But I don’t need any reminding. Because even now, angry at him and full of shame, my thighs press together as I think about the things he did to my body.

“That was before I knew you were engaged.” He runs his hand through his hair. “But the obnoxious ring missing from your hand last night was an unpleasant surprise to find lying on your bathroom counter early this morning.”

“That’s why you left?” I hang my head in shame.

“I went to the bathroom and was planning to wake you so we could watch the sunrise together.” He smirks. “It was beautiful, by the way.”

I suck in a ragged breath.

It’s like a knife to the chest that he thinks I could be that person.

A cheater!

And as a result, I’m torn between salvaging the article and saving my reputation.

“I just couldn’t figure out why… the ring, champagne, roses, lingerie, the suite. All of it.” He sits up taller in his chair, scanning the room. His eyes are everywhere but on me. “So where was he? Will he be joining us this morning?”

“Did you know who I was last night?” My lip trembles at the possibility.

He glares past me but doesn’t answer my question.

“Really takes undercover to a whole new level, don’t you think?” I finish off another mimosa, trying to hold back the anger simmering below the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. He’s got this all wrong.

“Are you fucking serious?” He looks at me now, his emerald eyes full of fire.

“I mean, what kind of reporter are you that you didn’t even do your homework and know who you were interviewing?” I poke.

“First of all, I’m wounded.” He holds his hand to his chest. “It’s not reporter; it’s writer. And I’m neither—I’m the editor-in-chief.”

I cannot believe the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

“Second of all, I had never heard of you, Lucy Landers, wedding planner extraordinaire—well, before this article, that is. Someone else was supposed to be handling the interview portion, but let’s just say things changed. And this issue is… personal. So yeah, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

“Was stuck with you. Was. Not anymore.” I motion for the check. Might as well come clean and kiss the article goodbye.

“What do you mean not anymore?”

I can’t do it. No more lies. I do what I should have done the moment he sat down and pull off my ring and toss it in my bag like the trash it is. “He’s not coming, because there is no fiancé.”

“You can’t be serious?” he asks, shock registering on his face.

“You keep saying that.” I fight back tears.

“And you keep lying.”

My humiliation reaches a new low at his words. And given the past twenty-four hours, that’s saying a lot. A lone tear escapes.

“Touché.” I reach for my bag, desperate for a tissue. “But that’s actually true.”

“You lied to get an article.”

“No—they approached me about the article. I had a fiancé until yesterday. So, unless you’re volunteering for the job, I think we’re done here.” I keep my head down, my eyes focused on his fancy black dress shoes as he stands.

“Well, I guess we agree on one thing.” He pulls out a wad of cash and throws it on the table. “Goodbye, Lucy.”

“Goodbye, Beau,” I whisper, and another tear falls. Then another, leaving me to figure out why I’m more upset about him walking away than Henry calling off our wedding.

***