Page 33 of The Layover

“If you do, you do, and if not, no worries.”

I thanked him and disconnected.

When I woke up again, the sun had cleared the building and was behind me. I got up long enough to have the kitchen bring me some bread, fruit, and cheese for lunch, and I drifted off inside after I’d eaten.

I dreamed of fae wandering the stone path behind my cabin and sexy men with accents and tattoos who told fairy tales about the magical creatures to adorable little girls who were far too smart for their age. There were spots where I woke up again, but not for long.

The next morning I felt a billion times better. Maybe I’d had some sort of 24-hour bug. I was ready to conquer the world today, though. I reached for my phone and made sure I hadn’t missed anything vital during my mini-Rip-van-Winkle impersonation.

Famous Foodies Find Foreign Love at their Front Door

I started in shock at the side-by-side pictures of Diego and Raul in one image, and me in the other.

What the…?

The first paragraph of the fucking article was background about the guys. Raul’s family, his money, their name and who they were globally.

The second paragraph was a little about me, though a lot more about my employer.

And it wasn’t until paragraph three that it said our wedding had been fake. A game of make-believe with a child performing the pretend ceremony.

Who the fuck read the news all the way to paragraph three? I’d bet there were statistics that said 99 percent of people never read past the headline.

This was bad. This was so bad. It was seven here, so it was eleven at night back home. How many of my colleagues had already seen it? My bosses? If they hadn’t yet, it would be waiting for them first thing in the morning.

Even if this wasn’t big news for most of the world, Raphael tended to track their clients. A lot of their investments relied as much on public perception as a business plan in order to grow and succeed, so we watched all of our clients.

I needed answers and a solution. I called Diego and there was no answer, so I dialed Raul immediately.

“What is this?” I asked the instant he answered, not giving him a chance to speak.

“This is not what was supposed to happen.” Raul didn’t ask what I was talking about. “If you’re coming over this morning, we can talk through it.”

“How about you explain right now, and I decide what the appropriate next steps are?” It wasn’t as though I had the ability to pull their funding, but if Kandace didn’t like this, she did.

Raul sighed. “It was supposed to be fluff. Fun. It's supposed to be clear from the start that the wedding was fake.”

“Why was the wedding mentioned at all?” Was it me who was being dim? No. This wasn’t right or normal.

He explained the meeting with Antonio’s social media contact. The discussion. The decision.

I clenched my jaw. “Do you know why Antonio and Justin lost control of their start-up in San Jose?”

“Because they fell in love with their contractor.”

Close, but not quite. “Because the tech sites ran with the gossip about it. No one would’ve cared if the news hadn’t gone public. I’m sure your cousin is good at his job, but he should not be making your social media decisions.” I hadn’t expected to have to be Bad Guy Carly so early in this project, but this was part of what I was here for.

“It wasn’t his decision, it was this person he introduced us to.” Raul’s voice held an edge. “And he is extraordinary at his job.”

And now he thought I’d insulted his family. I’d react the same way if someone said mean things about Jeremy or Megan. I took a deep breath. “It’s done, and the details of how aren’t as important as making sure we fix it and that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Meet us at the church. We’ll talk things through.” Raul was no longer friendly or bright.

Fine. I didn’t need to be swooning over them anyway. This friction was bad, but it would also make it easier for me to keep my distance from both men. “I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

I hurried through a shower, but spent far more time debating what to wear than I should. We were doing demolition today, and I ’d probably help. I didn’t have to, my job was to be on site and monitor, but I tended to go hands on. Which meant I should be in jeans, long sleeves, heavier weight clothing I could still work in.

Instead, I wanted a dress. Pretty. Light. Easy access…

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