Page 6 of Accidentally Wed to My Enemy

I toyed with my collar, trying to think. We talked all the time, about everything. I must’ve vented my worries. My hopes and dreams.

“Time’s up,” said Sam. “Where’d you live before high school? You ever been in love? What’s so bad about Lacey she’s got your shorts in a bunch?”

My skin prickled hot, a brief flash of panic. I pressed my lips together and pushed back from the table. This wasn’t about me, just Sam being Sam. He did this sometimes, got a bee in his bonnet. Got himself all worked up, and then he’d lash out. I was convenient, was all. A handy target. I’d give him a day or two, and he’d forget all about it.

“I should go,” I said. “You should get some rest too.”

“Unbelievable.” Sam shook his head. “Can’t you see you’re doing it? Shutting down like I said?”

“I don’t want to fight with you. Like you said, we’re best friends.”

“If you don’t want to fight, then try being honest.”

“You’re drunk,” I said, though I could see he wasn’t. Sam rolled his eyes again and made ashoogesture, a flick of his wrist to show he was done.

I bit my cheek, trying to think of something to say, some easy olive branch to cut through the tension. Nothing came to mind, and I turned to go. Sam shouted after me as I pushed through the curtain.

"You have to letsomeoneinsometime. Even if it’s not me.”

I hurried down the back steps and out the first door I saw, straight onto the dance floor. I cursed through my teeth. When I tried to duck back, the crowd had closed in behind me, so I kept going instead, skirting the dancers. One girl spotted me and pulled me in for a selfie, thrust her head in and snapped, and then spun away. I saw her grab her friends and put on some speed. Once I got mobbed, there’d be no escape. I’d be stuck signing shirts till last call rolled round.

“It’s Eric Harper!”

“Toldja I saw him!”

“Hey, Eric!Eric!”

I lunged for the exit, half-sprinted to make it, and burst out the front doors into a burst of flashbulbs. Somebody thrust a mic in my face. I had time to thinkshit,and the questions started.

“Are you celebrating, Eric? Is it true you’re working with Anders Berg?”

“Is he doing an action film? Can you give us a hint?”

If I’d left with Sam, this wouldn’t be happening. He’d have slipped us out the back way, straight into a limo.

“Does this mean you’ve made peace with Lacey Hall?”

I wanted to hit someone, shove my way through the crowd. Instead, I slapped on my best good-guy smile. I didn’t need Sam, or anyone else. I could handle this fine, just like I always had.

“It’s an honor to be working with Anders Berg. I’ve been a fan of his work since I was a kid. And as for Miss Hall…” I winked for the viewers. “You’ll have to watch us together and judge for yourselves.”

CHAPTER 3

LACEY

Hawaii was paradise. Heaven on earth.

I stepped off the plane into bright, balmy summer, beach weather in January. A cloudless blue sky. Birds wheeled overhead, riding the thermals. I shrugged out of my jacket and drew a deep breath, and the air evensmelledgood, all floral-sweet. It felt almost blasphemous shooting a war movie here, invading the jungles with our popping prop guns.

Berg stalked off behind me, wiping his face. “Is it always this hot here? Ugh, there’s mosquitos.”

His assistant said something quiet, in Swedish. I ignored both of them. I’d had my fill on the plane. Berg had complained through the whole six-hour flight, about the size of his seat, its hardness, his headrest. He’d found his food salty, his drink watered down. Even the lighting had been too harsh for his taste. At least I’d been spared having to put up with Eric. He’d hopped an earlier flight, probably to avoid me. Or to avoid Berg. Had somebody warned him?

It was only a short ride to our hotel, the new Seaview Tower, down by the beach. I got checked in while Berg bugged the desk clerk, something about wakeup calls and catered breakfasts. I stood with my back to him, pretending not to know him.

“Your keycard, Miss Hall.” The clerk passed it to me. “Breakfast is served between six and eleven, in the holiday dining room or any of our restaurants. Or you can have room service brought to your suite.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I made my escape. I rode the elevator up to nineteen, swiped my card in my key slot, and let out a gasp. My suite was… palatial. Like an actual palace. Like, it took me a minute to find my bedroom. I had a whole living room, all coral and white, a big formal dining room, a hot tub and sauna. A cute kitchenette with an actual oven. My bedroom was right down the hall from the sauna, done in soft blues and beach sand yellows. The bed was enormous and cotton-cloud soft. Beyond it, the wall was all windows, all sky, the ocean below me, a wide stretch of beach. I checked the number on my keycard and the one on my door, but there was no mistake. This was really for me.

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