Page 47 of The Bourbon Bride

She gives me a tablet and pulls up the social media handle for her friend so I can look at her work. Oh, she’ll definitely do. I think she specializes in glow-ups because her before and afters are incredible. I let Angela call and arrange everything for me, supplying Hayes’s address when asked. I hope he doesn’t mind a stranger coming over.

I leave Haute Belle with my garment bag and shoe box carried delicately in my arms and head across the street toward the coffee shop Hayes went to. He’s sitting at a table that looks out the window directly at Haute Belle, so he waves as I approach and takes a last sip of his drink before he meets me outside.

“I take it that went well?”

“The best. I even have a hair and makeup artist coming to the house later. If that’s okay?” I tack on.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want to do is fine by me, honey.”

“If that’s the case, I want to eat leftover pizza for a late lunch and then start my beautifying routine. This dress requires some high-maintenance grooming.”

“I’m intrigued,” Hayes says, taking the dress and tucking it into the backseat of the G-wagon for me.

He hands me my seat belt and waits for me to buckle before closing my door and walking around to his side.

My new cell rings that awful telephone ringer from my bag and I jump to get it just so I can stop the noise. I much prefer something softer that still gets my attention without scaring the heck out of me. Or just plain old vibrate to not have to hear it at all. I cringe when I see the screen.

It’s Mama.

“Oh, Lord,” I mutter, staring at the screen in resignation after I’ve muted the call.

Hayes looks over. “Uh oh, Mommy dearest. Go ahead and take it. I don’t mind.”

I grimace now that he’s removed my option of ignoring her.

“Hi, Mama,” I answer.

“Paige Kore Fairchild, what in heaven’s name are you doing withthat man?” she screeches over the line. I pull the phone away from my ear and turn the volume down.

“What are you talking about, Mama?” How can she know I’m with Hayes? I’ve only told her I was safe and with a friend, without supplying any additional information.

“That god-awful Atlanta Haute List gossip site is reporting you were with that scoundrel during a carjacking last night. How dare he put you in danger like that! And how dare you not call to tell me you were okay immediately. I had to find out because Levitica Johnson’s daughter Melanie was telling everyone in Savannah.”

“What’s the Atlanta Haute List?” I ask Hayes with my hand covering my phone.

He groans and fishes his own phone out of his pocket, tapping away while I listen to Mama decry the evils of Atlanta and the dangers lurking around every corner. He shows me a slick-looking mobile site on his phone with the titular name splashed across the top of the page and the very first story having a big old picture of me at my deb ball last week next to a photo of Hayes from what could be a business journal article.

“Debutante Hotel Heiress Nabs Atlanta’s Most Eligible End Elusive bachelor billionaire,” reads the headline.

“Holy smokes,” I drawl, my eyes widening. “This is bad, right?” I whisper to him.

He gives me a maybe yes, maybe no head wag.

“It’s a gossip site, so not everything they print is true, but this is pretty spot-on, so I’m going to do some digging to see what they’re reporting.”

I watch over his shoulder as he scrolls into the article, Mama still not exhausted on the line. I throw in a “Mmhmm, okay,” just to show her I’m still on the line.

“Paige Fairchild, heiress to the multimillion-dollar Southern darling hotel chain, The Xenios Group, was spotted getting cozy at trendy Atlanta pizza spot Napoletana Friday evening with none other than Olympus International CFO Hayes Olsen. Sources say the two are a new item, and Fairchild could be the unknown brunette Olsen flew into town on his private jet just last weekend from her hometown of Savannah. The young heiress has yet to be linked with any of Georgia’s elite, so to make her debut and instantly find herself canoodling a billionaire seems too good to be true. The lucky lady found herself in trouble as the billionaire’s favorite Mercedes SLR McLaren was the intended target of a carjacking gone wrong. Sources say the attacker left the scene in an ambulance while our new love birds drove away from the restaurant together, seemingly unharmed.

Is our own Olsen Atlanta’s newest Batman? He does only seem to be spotted under the cover of night, and he’s got the Bruce Wayne bucks to pull it off, so anything is possible. The story is still developing, so hit Like and Subscribe for all the Haute gossip.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper shriek. “How do they know so much about me—about us?”

“Welcome to Atlanta, where your status as an heiress is as good as a headline.” He grimaces. “I’m not helping you out, any. They love following my brothers and me around to see what we’re up to. Eligible bachelors and all that,” he finishes, visibly disturbed.

“Paige! Are you even listening to me?” Mama yells.

“Sorry, Mama. I dropped my phone,” I offer as an excuse for not answering whatever question she expected me to. “Will you please repeat that?”

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