Page 85 of The Billionaire's Wife

“You could get married at your house. The stairway would make a great grand entrance. You could get married right in front of the door. Chairs on either side.”

Jenna wrinkled her nose at Megan. “I guess. Do I really want to have to clean up my own house after my own wedding, though? It’s not ideal. And we’d have to restrict the guest list. Which might end up meaning uninviting people who’ve already been invited. That feels like a bad plan. But it’s something to keep in mind if we need to.”

Megan glanced at her phone then back up. “Food’s five minutes out.”

“Good. I’m starved.” Sunny patted her stomach. “Plus, once we’re all eating, we can grill Faith and get the full scoop on her secret marriage to Tristan.”

“What? No. There’s no scoop.” I shook my head. I’d been enjoying the evening so far, but if this was going to turn into grilling me? I was taking my ziti and hitting the road.

Megan laughed. “There has to be some scoop. Tristan’s this mysterious lawyer who doesn’t talk about stuff.”

“Duh? Lawyer?” I looked at each of the faces, hoping to find one that wasn’t the picture of curiosity. “I thought we were decorating the bookstore for Halloween.”

“Oh, yeah?” Whitney perked up. “I always love helping with that. You’re late this year.”

Megan chuckled. “A little, yeah. It’s been busy. Not the store—that’s the same as always—but life.”

“This will happen.” Whitney stood and hurried toward the door. I watched her push it open for a young man carrying two large shopping bags with pictures of pasta all over them. I couldn’t hear what Whitney said, but she was obviously charming and funny, because the guy laughed and his cheeks turned pink.

“Food’s here. Let’s eat.” Whitney set the bags down on the low table in the center of the seating area. “Grilling optional, although we would love to get to know you. Not in a creepy way, but in an ‘our husbands are all friends so we want to be friends, too’ way.”

Sunny jabbed an elbow in my side. “I have it on good authority that these ladies are like the Borg.”

“The Borg?” It took me a minute. “From the space show?”

Jenna shot me a horrified look. “The space show? You did not just call Star Trek ‘the space show.’”

“That’s its name. Star Trak.” I nodded, glad to be saved from having to think about it for the rest of the night.

“Trek.” Jenna enunciated it clearly. “Star. Trek. You, my friend, are going to be watching a lot of TV with me in the near future. The space show, indeed.”

“Sorry.” Sunny leaned close, her voice low. “I would have warned you if I knew you weren’t a fan. On the flip side, it’s kind of interesting. Mostly.”

Jenna frowned at Sunny. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Sunny just offered an overly bright smile.

I reached for the container of food that Megan held out. “Thanks. So, since I don’t get the Borg reference, want to just share it so it makes sense?”

Jenna sighed. “Resistance is futile.”

23

TRISTAN

“You have a call on line one, Mr. Lee.” Arlene disconnected the intercom as soon as she finished delivering her statement.

I pressed the line one button and picked up the handset. “Tristan Lee.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lee, this is Bradley Forrester. I’ve been assigned the case being brought against you and Faith Clarke by the FBI.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me. Special Agent Orbison didn’t seem like a man who was going to give up easily. Even if it was a bluff, it had always seemed likely that I’d be talking to an attorney. That was why I’d called Allison right away. “Hello. If you give me your contact details, I’ll pass them along to my attorney and she’ll get in touch.”

“Your what?”

“My attorney.”

Bradley cleared his throat. “I was under the impression you were an attorney yourself.”

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