Chapter 2
Chapter Two
SAbrINA
I was a hard woman to get a meeting with, and I liked it that way. So when the sleek black Bentley with tinted windows pulled up as I was exiting my potential client’s penthouse apartment, I didn’t think anything of it. That car wasn’t there for me. I stepped around the car and looked for my Uber.
“Ms. Holloway?”
I turned to find a tall woman standing beside the back passenger door, one hand on the hood. Evening was giving away to night, with only the streetlamps and the passing headlights of cars offering occasional light. The building’s light was pointed toward the doorway.
This was totally an opening for a true-crime story. The night, the poor lighting, a stranger calling my name… Yeah, women serial killers were rare, but not unheard-of.
I put my hand on my phone resting in my raincoat pocket. “I’m sorry?” I hadn’t expected someone to call my name.
“You’re Sabrina Holloway?” The woman was walking toward me. “Of course you are. You…” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m Morgan Barker.”
She stuck out her hand. The woman was in her mid-fifties, with blondish silver hair and immaculately applied makeup that drew attention to her blue eyes. When she smiled, a dimple appeared on her right cheek. Something about her seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
I looked around, then back at the woman and shook her hand. “How did you find me?” I found it hard to believe my assistant would give out my whereabouts.
“Gossip among my bridge group led me here. Mindy is in that group. You were the matchmaker Jace Shepard used, correct?” She gestured toward the car. “Can we ride and talk? We’ll take you back to your hotel.”
My Uber pulled up, and I hesitated, taking a step away from her and toward my ride. This situation was highly unusual, and just because the woman had thrown out Jace’s name didn’t mean she was legit.
“I want to offer you a job.” She indicated to the apartment building I had just exited. “Mindy is fickle. She could change her mind in a flash. My offer would be a good backup plan. While Mindy is processing all this, you could be helping me out.”
Mindy Fisher was one hundred percent a waffler. I’d picked up on that right away. She’d even canceled our first meeting. But scared people did that, and I believed Mindy wanted love more than she was scared. Mindy was matchable. And I had convinced her of that. She had the contract and was going to sign it once her lawyer reviewed it. But that didn’t mean the offer of extra money was something I was willing to look away from. Normally, I was not one to rank money so highly, but that had all changed with my new goal.
“You’re looking for a match?” I asked. I’d told Mindy to share my name with any of her friends who might be wanting a match.
Morgan smiled. “No, I’m good, thank you. We’re not looking for a match but more to tap into your expertise.” She pointed at the car again. “Please.”
I assessed Morgan Barker. She didn’t seem twitchy even though she kept trying to get me in the car. The Seattle autumn day was a blustery, wet one, and Morgan Barker was dressed perfectly for it in a Burberry raincoat. The woman screamed money. Not that serial killers couldn’t be rich. Or fake it. I’d seen enough heist movies to be wary.
But Morgan had piqued my curiosity. Besides, I had a few hours to kill as my flight was scheduled for later that night. And where else did I have to go? Back to my hotel alone so I could get my bags and go to the airport alone so I could then fly home to Texas alone to an empty house. Alone sucked, so much so that I was willing to take my chances with the stranger before me.
I took a picture of the car’s tag and sent a text to Jace:
If I die it’s because of you and this is the person who did it.
“I’m gonna ride with her,” I told the Uber driver. I took my phone out of my raincoat pocket, also Burberry, in case you were wondering, and closed out my ride request. “I canceled the ride but gave you a tip.”
The driver nodded and eased back into traffic.
Morgan gave me a bright smile. “I apologize if you catch me staring. You just remind me of someone I lost a long time ago, and it’s caught me off guard.” Her voice was soft and buttery and filled with kindness. She held her arm out for me to precede her into the car.
As Morgan slipped into the seat next to me, I said, “I hope the person I remind you of was someone you liked.” Maybe it was her mortal enemy, and Morgan was totally going to kill me.
Morgan looked away, a wistful expression on her face. “She was the best. We grew up together but lost touch after college. Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll get right to it, as time is not on our side.” She opened a small cabinet built into the seat in front of her. “Drink?”
I shook my head. “I’m all ears.”
“I’m part owner in a company called Optium. Have you heard of it?”
I searched my memory bank. “Optium? I don’t think so.”
Morgan studied me for a second.
“You’re surprised,” I said. “Should I know the company?”
“It’s just that our CEO is… He’s been getting a lot of press lately, and he’s a leading expert in the field of security. Optium is a security and personal-protection business. We offer executive professional protection and threat-assessment training for schools and universities—how to recognize signs of impending violence and how to respond. But Optium has been wanting to branch out into the area of personal safety, including home security, self-defense, and dating.”
Ah yes, I’d seen something about it in the press. But I’d paid little attention. My clientele didn’t use apps. They required far more privacy and vetting due to their status and wealth.
I shook my head. “Sorry.”
Morgan nodded, but the surprise in her expression didn’t fade. “The program Optium created is twofold. They have a dating app and also provide information about all the ways people can protect themselves, with notifications on where self-defense classes are. And for those who have children, what things you should and should not do, like post first-day-of-school pictures with their name, grade, and school.”
I made a note of that, not wanting to make that mistake when I had kids. I was intrigued and wondered what my part in this was going to be.
“In the last eighteen hours, our company has come under attack,” she continued.
“Attack? That’s ironic for a security company.” I adjusted in my seat so I could both see Morgan and make sure the driver wasn’t going to pass my hotel.
“Very much so. If I wasn’t so invested in the company, I would laugh. We had a breech, and some intellectual property was stolen and given to our competitor. And to add fuel to the fire, a smear campaign has started regarding our CEO. The gist is that while he may be good at protecting high-profile people, what does he know about dating and, specifically, women’s safety issues? Now our competitor has a huge advantage because they already have a foot in this market. This attack affects both our reputation and brand, which will bleed over into our executive-protection division.”
“That sounds ridiculous. Doesn’t Optium’s work speak for itself?” I knew as soon as the words were out how stupid they sounded. With the internet and misinformation, no one knew what truth was anymore. People loved a good train wreck, and that was exactly what smear campaigns were.
Morgan chewed her lip. “We’ve also just had a security fail with a protection detail. People were hurt. As you can imagine, that doesn’t help us either.”
“Who would want to hire or use a company with a bad reputation and which has likely lost clients.”
“Precisely.” She clutched her hands in her lap. “Not to mention how priceless social proof is.”
“Sounds personal.” And it sounded like this woman was worried. Maybe she had a lot invested in the company. Money made people do crazy things.
“It is. We know who is behind it.” Morgan pressed a perfectly manicured finger to her lips as if she were telling herself to not speak. A moment later, she removed the finger. “I’m sorry. I was about to say some unkind things about our attacker. Where was I?”
“You were going to tell me what my role in this would be.” Now came the juicy stuff.
“Optium has put a lot of time and money in this new division. We’re not willing to lose it now. So the plan is to launch early but test the products and classes in real time, be honest about the flaws and show the fixes. Build customer trust. And since our CEO is a securities expert, and not an expert of relationships or love, we thought to pair him with one. And that one is you.”
“Will he be doing the dating? Will he be the one having these in-real-time experiences?” This might be the weirdest potential client ever.
“Yes. I’ll be honest. He’s not crazy about the idea. He’s a lone wolf. But he’s the perfect test subject, as he’s not dated in long time. He’s very rusty. Though if a match were to genuinely happen, no one will really complain.” She sounded more like a mother than an employee.
“He might. People don’t like getting handled unless they ask for it.”
She waved away my words. “Falling in love would be good for him. He’s such a loner, and he’s not the easiest person to get to know. But that is not the objective. What we want to do is to develop a safe online space for people who are looking to find love... among other things.”
“Okay, so how long is this job, and what are the hours? And is it located here?”
This was an interesting proposition, and I was intrigued. I was a pro at helping people find just the right fit for their emergency. Make-believe wives and fiancées were a niche specialty of mine. My success rate of those ending up in happy and fulfilling marriages was over ninety percent, all of whom are still married to this day. But helping the everyday person—that would be a new challenge. My clients had a range of things they wanted in a partner. Often I worked for the wealthy, who put money at the top of their list, believing if each person entered the arrangement with their own money, then the other would be more comfortable signing prenups. And those potential partners were limited. Matching on an app, on the other hand, involved a massive number of people. It was inevitable that things would go wrong.
“We can work all that out tomorrow if you’ll meet with us and decide to take the job.”
She was hedging.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I was the kind of girl who believed in just saying it all up front. When people didn’t communicate, lives were ruined and hearts were broken. I should know.
Morgan chuckled. “You have me figured out. I think maybe I didn’t emphasize enough about the… um, shall we say, abrasive exterior of the CEO.” She put up both hands to stop any comments. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s amazing with clients. It’s the personal-life stuff where he’s a bear. He’s resisting this, even though he knows it’s the right thing to do.”
I liked prickly men. They usually had a story to explain their attitudes, and I was good at finding the right person to heal the wound. And these prickly men were looking to be part of pair. “Do you know what his deal is?”
Morgan reached into the seat cabinet and pulled out a bottle of seltzer. She took a long drink from it before speaking. “Besides a cold and critical father, who I believe to be at the root of all the problems? I can’t say. Maybe a lost love, but that could just be rumors.”
I pressed my lips together as I studied the woman. My success rate was high because I knew what clients to not take on. This situation was straddling the fence. I wouldn’t be matching—I’d be coaching, trying to get a guy to change who didn’t want to change. That was hard on a good day, when the guy wanted it, but damn near impossible if he was fighting it.
As much as I liked a good challenge, I did not like one that required me to bang my head against the wall. This situation had the markings of just that, with a difficult CEO who purposefully avoided entanglements. Changing that mindset was sometimes like pushing a two-ton truck up a hill in high heels. Impossible unless you were Superwoman. And I was good—just not that good.
The car pulled into the hotel’s porte-cochère and glided to a stop at the sliding glass doors. I squared my shoulders as I prepared to let the woman down, putting on my calm yet compassionate face. I’d found that if I appeared this way, the other party would as well. Crazy how one person’s state of mind could affect other people’s.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m a good fit. I’m not sure?—”
“Wait. I have done a terrible job describing him.” Morgan picked up her phone and started tapping the screen. “He may sound hopeless, and maybe that’s how I think of him, but perhaps fresh eyes would see him in a different light. You could meet him and decide then, no?” She slid the phone across the seat toward me. “He’s quite handsome, don’t you think?”
I smiled at her as I picked up the phone. It took my brain exactly 1.2 seconds to register the picture. Thank heavens I had already schooled my expression, and praises to my daddy for teaching me how to have a poker face at the tender age of five. Those two skills came together in perfect harmony.
I didn’t gasp. I didn’t look at Morgan in surprise. I didn’t even lick my lips or shudder in revulsion—a reaction I had once upon a time hoped to have if I ever saw his face again.
No. I blinked once. Then again.
Calvin Beckett.
The one and only man who’d broken my heart. That thought made me want to snort in anger. Broken my heart? More like ripped it out and batted it around with a wiffle-ball bat. Those dang holes made the sting hurt a thousand times more.
Before that, our relationship had been perfect, or so I’d thought. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and all that.
So Cal was a security expert. I found that interesting. Apparently, blocking notifications about him on all my devices had panned out. I was totally oblivious to Cal’s life, and I wanted it that way. Doing a Google search out of curiosity and finding Cal married—or even worse, married with children—was something I wasn’t sure I could cope with. So I’d set my life up to limit, and hopefully negate, my chances of ever having that experience.
Yet here was the universe, delivering the notification in person. That bitch.
I set the phone down and tapped the picture with my nail. “This is your CEO?”
Morgan nodded. “Handsome, right?”
She’d get no commitment from me. “Mmm.”
“Do you know him?” She arched one brow in question.
I wondered how much she knew, assuming Jace being her source and all. I glanced at the face that had been such an important part of my life. Man, I hated him. Just as much as I still loved him. There was a fine line between those two emotions.
He’d changed. The lines at the end of his smile used to be deep grooves from his constant laughter and ease. Those were gone. His warm and inviting eyes were shuttered and vacant. Sure, to strangers, the image would look professional and exactly what one would want in a security expert. Cal looked dark, like he knew about the scary things hidden under beds and in closets and that he could single-handedly destroy them. In a movie, he’d play a Navy SEAL or some other sort of badass, with his dark hair, piercing dark-blue eyes, strong jaw, and slightly crooked nose from a few too many bar fights.
But I knew a different side to this face. Like a harlequin’s mask, neither side was the real face.
I looked up at Morgan and shook my head. “I don’t know this person.” I probably never had.
“Oh.” Morgan blinked rapidly.
“Why am I having this conversation with you instead of him?”
Is this Cal’s way of bringing me back into his life, to teach him to date? I found that hard to believe. He wasn’t a cruel person.
She bit her lip and looked like she was considering what to tell me. “He’s asked to have final say with hiring a love expert. The company PR guy and I think we need to get this rolling sooner rather than later, and you are the best. Your reputation precedes you. When I heard you were in town, I thought it was a sign that we should ask you, and if we waited for him to weigh in, you’d be gone.”
Hmm. Close scrutiny of her expression told me she was telling the truth.
“Well, um, do you think you might be able to help him? Of course, we will pay you. And pay you well. Twenty-five thousand for a minimum of two weeks for your consultation services. Each week after that will be negotiated on a week-by-week basis.”
Holy crap. That was half of my goal amount for only two weeks of work. I felt lightheaded just thinking about how quickly I could have that money in my account.
Who cared that I’d spent the first five years after getting dumped by this guy trying to recalibrate and figure out who I was or the last five years trying to forget he existed.
The real question was how badly I wanted to reach my current life-and-money goals. The sooner I reached them, the sooner I could move to step three. And I really, really wanted to move to step three.
I stared at the phone. I’d locked up that hurt a long time ago, knowing if I saw him again, it would all come flooding back. And I’d been right—I was sitting in a soup of memories and heartache at that very minute.
He’d told me it was over and that separating was for the best. That was it. Nothing more.
I’d begged like a fool for further explanation. All I got was a view of his back as he turned and walked out the door. For good. I never saw him again. And though that seemed cruel, in my heart of hearts I knew there had to have been more at play. What hurt was him not believing in us enough to address it as a couple.
Did I have closure? Nope, not a bit. Did I want it? Yep. Was getting it worth the possible setback it might cost me? Heck, yeah, I deserved it. You didn’t give someone three years of your life and run off to elope only to be dumped hours before the wedding and then not believe you deserved closure.
And to get paid to get my closure. Boom! I’d never sought him out after he left, believing that the universe would deliver closure. And boy howdy, had it delivered.
Cal needed a rescue, and his company had come to me. Ironic? Coincidence? Did I care? Nope. Lying in my lap was the golden goose.
Okay, but think of the job. Can you be his love expert and help him?
Barf. That’s what that thought makes me want to do.
But this was a win-win situation. I’d get my closure, and he’d get the help he needed. Plus, there was the money. Hello. And we were both adults, not emotional college students.
I couldn’t see the downside to this. My dad used to say, “The house always wins,” and in this scenario, I was the house. I always had the option to walk.
Could you really leave that money behind?
Yes? No? Probably no.
Cal was the past. My goal was my future. I would have to keep that in mind.
I smiled at Morgan. “I don’t know if I can help, but I like your idea of meeting him and seeing if we can make something happen.”
Oh, something was going to happen all right. And Cal wouldn’t see it coming. I got a little bit of pleasure knowing that.
Was I being a little petty? Sure. Did I care? Not too much, actually.
Morgan beamed at me. “Can we pick you up first thing in the morning? We can fly you home after that, considering you are missing your flight tonight.” She grimaced. “Timing being what it is and all that.”
“Yes, that will work.” I was already reaching for both my handbag and the door handle at the same time.
“Excellent. Michael, my driver here, will pick you up at seven a.m. sharp. Thank you so much, Sabrina.”
I felt slightly bad not being fully transparent with this woman. But all I had to do was recall the harshness of Cal’s words and the anger in his face, and I was able to stuff any second-guessing or misgivings into a deep hole.
“Oh, don’t thank me yet. This could all go horribly wrong in a heartbeat.” I would have loved to place a high-stakes wager that they were not going to prepare Cal for my visit, and his reaction to me would be all it would take for this plan to crumble. That was going to be the main obstacle to me keeping this job and getting this money.
But, truthfully, I couldn’t wait to see his reaction. The anticipation might just kill me.