Chapter 9 #2
“Alfie was in college at the time.” She paused long enough to covertly glare at Zinnia.
“I designed the bungalow with him in mind. He’s always known exactly who he was and what he wanted to do with his life.
Starting a successful coffee shop–bookstore chain was hardly a surprise to anyone who really knows him. ”
They continued in silence down a wide cement path that bisected landscaped gravel designs peppered with succulents. Everything looked expensive and editorial-worthy but had a disconcerting feeling of sameness. Nothing stood out.
Amber rolled to a stop. “Out,” she barked over her shoulder.
Both camera pods wordlessly hopped off. Confused, Zinnia followed suit and—
“Not you.” Amber frowned until Zinnia was fully back in her seat. “Give us thirty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A person with shaggy brown hair saluted as the pod crews walked toward a small white gazebo. Amber sped off again.
So.
No cameras, no microphones, no witnesses.
Her mother-in-law probably wasn’t planning to murder her since she gave them a time frame. Unless they were paid accomplices. The Zaffre family clearly had enough money to get away with it.
And to think Zinnia had only bought the vigilante revenge life insurance plan for laughs.
Their destination was a hilltop stone courtyard—a classic wrought-iron table for two had been set up with a small breakfast buffet.
It overlooked vast rolling green hills, filled with vibrantly colored wildflowers that stretched clear to the horizon.
The sky still had a touch of misty fog that wouldn’t last long.
She never cared about landscapes until views like that changed her mind.
Amber made herself a mimosa, downing it quickly before making another. “My son claims he’s in love with you.” She held the flute stem loosely in her hand. “That he’s never met anyone like you. A one-in-a-million love-at-first-sight story.”
“You know I was there when he told you that, right? Standing right next to him and everything.” She grabbed a croissant and sniffed it.
If golden had a smell, it’d be fluffy, buttery croissants.
She’d mostly been checking for poison. Death by croissant—she died eating what she loved. What a way to go.
Amber’s lip curled in disgust. “I know my son. He’s lying.”
“All right.”
“He doesn’t love you.”
“I understood what you meant the first time. No need to repeat yourself.”
“He didn’t even tell us you existed. If you mattered to him, even a little bit, he would’ve told us. But he didn’t because you don’t.”
Ouch. That one hurt.
“Is that so? Hmm.” Zinnia raised her ringed left hand, pretending to examine her nails from different angles, and then launched her best, most self-satisfied smile.
Unfortunately, spotting that telltale seething flush creeping up Amber’s neck almost made her break character.
“My son married you to embarrass me. You, someone completely beneath him, instead of someone we approved of as a family.”
“Or, maybe, perhaps even, Jordan doesn’t trust your judgment.”
Amber narrowed her eyes. “Do you think this is a game?”
It took everything Zinnia had not to shrink back in her seat.
Her mother-in-law had the kind of presence that could make a Marine cry and yesterday, she had laughed and laughed while taking pictures of Zinnia covered in cake, forcibly sandwiched between Lulie and Wylie. It was just so funny and cute.
Zinnia never thought of herself as vindictive. The hurt burning in her heart was beginning to make her believe otherwise.
“A little bit,” she admitted. “I don’t know what you want me to say, but I know what I’m here to do: help Jordan protect Sadie because I’m his wife.”
“Why you? I want to know why you specifically. Did he promise you money? Did you seduce him to get closer to someone else in my family? What is it?”
“Why not me?” She shrugged. “Why do the specifics even matter?”
“Answer me.” That tone was pure mama bear ready to jump across the table and maul her to death.
Zinnia had to be careful. She was only sure about two things: why she got married and that she didn’t have the heart to hang Jordan out to dry, accidentally or on purpose.
“We wanted to get married. We chose each other. I’m here because my husband asked me to be. That’s all you need to know.”
“I see.” Amber took a long pull directly from the champagne bottle. “And I’m assuming no amount of zeros will be enough to convince you to divorce him.”
“A billion dollars would do it. If that’s what you’re offering, I wholeheartedly accept.” Zinnia started in on a carrot cake muffin, fully ignoring Amber’s flame-throwing glare. She was starting to sweat, though.
“You two will need a new storyline since the old one no longer fits. If you were an escort, I could’ve at least spun this as Pretty Woman come to life.
A real-deal American rom-com fairy tale, but no.
Thank god you’re not ugly. We don’t have time to fix that.
” Amber’s brows furrowed in concentration—or at least they tried to.
They barely moved, but she had a contemplative look in her eyes.
“Crying alone in the bathroom was a bit much, don’t you think?
You were supposed to cry to Alfie as a means to manipulate him. ”
She could practically hear Grace screaming, I TOLD YOU SO.
“That won’t work. I’m not cut out to be your villain—assuming that’s what you’re aiming for. Because you shouldn’t. I don’t have the instincts for it.”
“The past ten minutes suggest differently.”
“I’m just smarter than I look,” she joked. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know how to act. I can only be myself. That’s what Jordan wants anyway.”
“Then what do you suggest? Because the problem is you’re never going to fool me. Viewers will figure out that I don’t believe you two are madly in love and our best bet is to lean into that. If we set the scene right, we can make them choose sides. You against the family with Alfie in the middle.”
“That actually might be the single worst storyline to put me in,” she said.
“I always try really hard to get everyone to like me. I give people second and third chances even when they don’t deserve it.
My eternal sunshine and optimistic mind can be really annoying.
I’m not your villain, but I can be your sweetheart—endearing to some, disliked by others, and just as polarizing. ”
That had been Grace’s idea. Only she could deliver a mildly backhanded compliment with such thoughtful and loving care.
Amber considered her pitch. “I can see how that might be better for Alfie. All of this is as much for him as it is for Sadie. He’s home now. We need to make sure his debut goes smoothly.”
“It will.”
“It better.” Amber stared her down. “And you better convince the world that you love my son or else. This storyline won’t end well for you.”