Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
F orza Elite Motors didn t open until noon on Saturdays unless you had an appointment, which Alex definitely did not. He d already tried Mary s house, but her car wasn t in the driveway, and she didn t answer her doorbell. So, he waited outside the Forzas business until he saw Evie—of course, it had to be Evie—drive up in her little gray compact and put her key in the lock.
Hi, Evie, he said, emerging from his Ferrari.
She jumped. You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?
I m looking for Mary. Is she here?
Her lip curled. No, just me.
Do you know where she is?
She gave him a long, ball-shriveling look. Yes. She walked inside, letting the door bang shut behind her.
When Alex wrenched it open, the bell jingled merrily. Where is she, Evie?
I think she d have told you if she wanted you to know.
Look, I need to find her and tell her?—
The bell tinkled behind him. Who let this asshole in? a deep voice rumbled.
Alex turned to keep both Evie and Mary s brother in sight. He knew better than to turn his back to a Forza. Especially Michael.
Evie glared at Michael. He just walked in. How did you expect me to keep him out?
Michael glared back. I ll show him out. He advanced on Alex, looking like an offensive lineman protecting his quarterback.
Alex let his knees go loose, prepared to dart and evade Michael s clutches.
The bell tinkled again. What s going on? This time, it was Rafe. His biceps bulged under the short sleeves of his blue T-shirt.
Just showing this asshole the door, Michael growled.
Wait, Alex said. I came in to find Mary.
She s not here, Michael said, taking a step closer.
I need to find her.
Why? Rafe asked. He d always been the more reasonable one. Except that time he d broken Alex s nose.
Alex spoke to him, keeping his back to the wall. I made a mistake when I let her walk away. I need to apologize.
She doesn t need you or your fucking job, Michael spat. She s just fine without you.
Better than fine. Rafe stuck out his chin. But his eyebrows drew together in a way that belied his words.
Alex hesitated for a moment. Then he sucked it up and laid himself bare. I m not fine. I was a fool. I—I need her.
We just told you she doesn t need you, asshole. Michael clenched his fists.
Alex stood his ground. He deserved a punch, and he d take it like he d taken their fists after prom. Don t you think Mary should decide that?
You ve hurt her enough. The lines around Michael s eyes deepened like he hadn t meant to say it.
The ache was back in Alex s belly. I know. And I want to make it right.
Michael opened his mouth, but Rafe spoke first. How do you plan to make it right? What you did was shitty on multiple levels.
I ll do whatever she asks. Buy her gifts. Grovel at her feet. Tell her I m sorry. Walk naked down the Strip while tourists pelt me with frosé if that s what she wants. Hell, he d let both her brothers pummel him if that was what she wanted.
Recommend her services? Evie asked. As an independent contractor. You get no cut of her fees.
Of course, he said. For every wedding until her schedule is full.
If you re going to grovel, I want video proof, Rafe said with an evil smile. Payback.
Fuck, he should have known he d pay for showing the Forzas those photos of Rafe. I ll ask Mary to confirm my grovel, all right?
Rafe s mouth turned down. I guess.
I don t know, Rafe, Michael said. I think he ll look better with a fat lip.
That ll just make her feel sorry for him, Rafe said. She s more likely to stay mad if he goes in there looking slick. He gestured at Alex s suit.
You ve got a point, Michael said. Let her decide. And if she decides to stay mad —Michael smirked— we ll break your fancy new nose.
Fair, Alex said. It was what he deserved. Where is she?
When Rafe told him, he realized it wasn t only Evie and the Forza brothers who had it in for him. The universe or God or karma wanted a piece of him, too.
* * *
Outside the country club at dusk, guests gathered in the green space next to the empty driving range to watch Mary s friend the aerialist.
Red silk wrapped her body as she twirled, suspended from a four-legged rig. The guests gazed up in awe, their sparkling wine forgotten.
Dante and his fire dancers had been more impressive. Though given they d cost him over a hundred Gs, including the damage to the wiring and the losses from an hour of downtime in the casino, an aerialist had been the smarter move. Little chance of injury to the guests, at least.
Hitching up the heavy box under his arm, Alex skirted the gawking guests on his way to crash his ex s wedding.
According to his plan, showing up mid-reception would be the least disruptive to Mary. Coming to the ceremony might invoke all those terrible rom-coms where the ex showed up to say his I object, and the last thing he wanted to do was stop Cierra from marrying what s-his-name. Besides, Mary would be busy supervising the videographer and the photographer, organizing the bridal party, and ensuring Cierra s mother wasn t seated next to her father.
While he d waited for the appropriate time to crash the wedding, he d run out for a sorry-I-lied-on-my-RSVP gift and cracked his knuckles while the store wrapped the ugly piece of crystal. Then he d changed into a different suit and even pulled out a wedding-appropriate floral silk tie to prove his sincerity.
Although he d intended to show up after dinner, while Cierra and her groom spun blissfully on the dance floor and most of Mary s work was done, patience wasn t his strength. When he walked into the reception room at the country club, the dance floor was empty. A few people milled around with drinks while servers tempted them with trays of hors d oeuvres. A piano played Fauré in a corner of the room, and the band was still setting up on stage.
Alex wandered around the edges of the room, searching for Mary. No luck. This would be a busy time for her. She d be ensuring dinner was almost ready, coordinating the bride and groom s entrance, and preparing to coax everyone into their assigned seats.
He hated waiting, but he d do it for Mary.
Determined to find an out-of-the-way spot to lurk, he set his gift with the others on the skirted table and walked back outside. But before he could find a bench, he was rewarded for his good intentions by a glimpse of Mary emerging from inside, followed by the bride and groom. She wore her black dress, the one with the teasing diaphanous sleeves, the one she thought faded into the background like a roadie on stage. It didn t work. Mary s dark hair and dress stood out against Cierra s puffy white gown, making her all Alex could see.
She fluffed Cierra s skirt, stepped back, and nodded. Then she said something to the couple, turned, and disappeared through the door again.
Without engaging his brain, his feet moved him a few steps closer to the door. That was when the trouble started.
Hey! What are you doing here?
Alex ripped his gaze from the spot he d lost sight of Mary. Yes, that was the groom. Shouting at him.
Innocently, he put a hand on his chest. Me? he asked.
The groom strode toward him. Yeah, you.
I was invited. God, he wished he d paid more attention to that invitation. Then he d remember the groom s name.
You? the groom sneered. I don t think so.
Alex tried to relax his shoulders as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Cierra invited me.
She stepped up to them, and the overpowering, fruity scent of her Miss Dior perfume almost choked him. As I recall, you sent your regrets. A smile curled her lips, done up in demure pink. But there was nothing sweet about the dangerous glint in her eye.
Cierra loved drama.
Congratulations, he murmured, bending down to brush his cheek near hers in what he hoped would be a friendly, tension-defusing air kiss.
But Cierra turned her face at exactly the wrong moment, and his lips met hers. Alex stumbled back. Sorry, I?—
What the fuck, Villa? the groom roared. Around them, people Alex hadn t noticed before gasped.
I didn t mean to?—
Parking lot. Now. The groom s face was red.
I m not going to the parking lot with you, Alex said. I m just here to?—
I know why you re here. You can t have her back! the groom roared in a soap opera–worthy performance. It seemed he, too, had a flair for the dramatic.
Behind him, someone stopped the aerialist s music.
Alex put up his hands. I don t want?—
Fuck what you want. The groom grasped his arm and tugged him along the path toward the parking lot.
Alex had two choices: dig in his heels and resist, which would surely get him punched and might splatter blood on Cierra s gown, a problem Mary would have to deal with; or go with the groom, also with a one-hundred percent chance of getting punched but likely to create fewer problems for Mary.
Shaking off the groom s grip, he walked beside him along the path to the concrete parking lot. That was going to hurt—a lot—when he fell. Why couldn t it be sun-softened asphalt?
Sunset turned the pavement rosy pink. Alex squinted against the golden rays that speared into his eyes. Look, I m not here for Cierra. I m here to see?—
Pow.
Alex doubled over at the unexpected pain radiating from his midsection. Cierra s husband didn t punch as hard as Mary s brothers, but any blow to the solar plexus hurt like hell. Blinded by the sun, he hadn t even braced for impact. He coughed on his shiny dress shoes, willing the bile not to rise into his throat.
Stand up and fight! the other man shouted.
Still bent at the waist, Alex held up a hand. I don t want to fight you. It s your wedding day.
I ll fight anyone who touches my wife! He grasped Alex s shoulder and pulled him up.
Pain sizzled in Alex s stomach as he straightened. Resisting would make everything worse. This time, he saw the groom s fist coming for his face, and he braced. Agony lit up his jaw, and his head snapped to the side. He stumbled back, lost his balance, and fell on his ass.
Fortunately, his suit saved him from road rash. Unfortunately, the thin linen split with a ripping sound.
The groom grunted and shook out his hand. His chest heaved.
Sitting on the concrete, Alex touched his jaw, then worked it around. No teeth loose, and nothing appeared broken. We good now? he muttered, glancing at the crowd that had gathered. Of course their phones were out, recording his humiliation. His tongue felt thick, and his words slurred.
Yeah. The groom examined his reddened knuckles. Then, louder, he said, Stay away from my wife.
Got it. Alex lowered his voice. Know where I can get some ice?
Kitchen. There s an entrance around to the right.
Thanks, man. Alex squinted at the guy. Good luck to you and Cierra.
The groom stepped closer. You better fucking stay away from her.
He held up both hands. I promise. I came here for your wedding planner.
The groom laughed. You came here for the wedding planner?
I love her. I came here to tell her that. Say one word about her, and the punching bag punches back.
Nah, we re cool, the groom said. I wish you d told me that before…you know.
He ached too much to argue. Instead, he held out his hand. The groom took it and pulled him up. A breeze cooled his ass. I ll go find her in the kitchen.
Actually, the groom said, I have a better idea. Cierra s gonna love it.