Chapter 25
THE PAPARAZZI WORK FAST. THERE’S already a shot of Cole on Reality Bitch under the headline:
REALITY STAR LOOKS HAGGARD AS SHE PREPARES FOR REHAB
Haggard? Seriously? She’d combed her hair and put on Vince cashmere joggers for her short walk to the mailbox that morning, so the description seems a little harsh.
But she supposes it could have been worse.
Considering what happened at RealityCon and the fact that the entire world hates her, haggard is probably a better word than what she deserves.
In any case, after days of hiding from the paparazzi lining the street outside, leaving the house for five minutes was a strategic move. She knew that once the paps got their shot, they’d leave her alone.
They’ll be back later, of course. But for now, the Bridle Path is quiet, just as she’d hoped. She can’t have anyone photographing what’s about to happen next.
Parting the living room curtains, Cole peeks out the window for the tenth time in as many minutes.
In fairness, the person she’s waiting for isn’t late.
She’s just that anxious. Jordan left town yesterday and will be back tonight, so today is the only day she can do this.
Based on what Cole knows of Parker—no last name—he doesn’t seem like the type to arrive late.
His extensive military background and reputation for discretion comes with a high price, but he comes highly recommended and this is not the time to cut costs.
He has quite a few happy clients on Third Party, the adults-only site that Cole joined anonymously a few months ago.
Was he an ex–Navy SEAL or former Special Forces? She’ll find out soon enough.
A nondescript SUV stops at the curb in front of Cole’s house, and she freezes.
It’s not the vehicle Parker described, so it could be more paparazzi.
Or, worse, it could be Jordan in an Uber, coming home early, which would mess everything up.
But it can’t be. He’s in Montreal, left yesterday for a business trip, and one of his colleagues posted a picture of him at their work dinner last night.
He’s not with Annika this time.
Yes, Cole knows exactly who the mystery blonde is.
She knew as soon their affair started. It’s just easier sometimes to think of Annika Roth as “the blonde,” rather than the woman who lives next door, who also happens to be one of Cole’s closest friends.
A few years ago, she might have been surprised that her husband would get involved with someone in their inner circle. But not much surprises her anymore.
Jordan Lennox is not a good man. He just plays one on TV.
The SUV is still at the curb, idling. Wringing her hands together, Cole paces again, thinking back to the conversation she and Jordan had before he left. He’d come home from the office in a terrible mood and told her he was considering postponing his trip.
She panicked.
“But I thought you had to go to Montreal,” she told him, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt. Parker was booked, deposit paid. “I’m leaving for rehab tomorrow anyway.”
Jordan scoffed and headed to the kitchen for a drink. She followed him, watching as he extracted a can of beer from the fridge. “That’s bullshit,” he said, popping the tab and taking a long swig. “You’re not an alcoholic. I drink more than you do.”
“Then congrats, you’re an alcoholic, too.”
He gave her a look. “What did Beatty actually say when you talked to him?”
“He said I have to go to rehab.”
“Come on.” Jordan leaned back against the counter. “It’s a scandal, Cole, which is always what they want. When the storm blows over, they’ll come back to you. And then you can ask for even more money for your redemption arc next season.”
“There’s a lot Quan will forgive,” Cole said. “I don’t know that they’ll forgive this.”
Jordan had a point about the money, though. Viewers love a villain who redeems herself. Public intoxication, DUIs, physical fights, shady business deals, infidelity—they’ve all happened on the show before.
Especially the affairs.
She stared at her husband. As usual, everything about Jordan Lennox looked perfect, from the dark gray Brioni suit he’d worn to the office, to the vintage Rolex he’d inherited from his father, to the haircut he paid two hundred dollars a month for.
Two hundred. For hair that’s no longer than two inches anywhere on his head.
“How many women have there been?” Cole blurted suddenly, and her husband was so surprised he nearly choked on his beer. “I’m not even talking about the ones you slept with while we were dating. How many since we’ve been married?”
“Where the fuck is this coming from?” Jordan crumpled the beer can and tossed it into the recycling bin. He then grabbed another can from the fridge. “I’ve never cheated on you. We’ve talked about this.”
She barked a laugh. “There are photos of you on Reality Bitch right now.”
“And?” he asked, meeting her gaze with a cool one of his own. “She’s a friend of someone at the company. We hung out together, nothing more.”
Yeah, she’s your friend. “In a hotel room?”
“It was a suite, and there were other people there.”
She could have grilled him harder, but what was the point? It was humiliating enough that there was anything to grill him about in the first place, and besides, she already knew what he’d say. Jordan Lennox’s playbook had become quite predictable over the years.
She’s someone I work with.
She’s just a friend.
We met at the club.
And Cole’s personal favorite, because it was the ultimate gaslight: What do you mean, who is she? You met her at such-and-such. You should call her. She really likes you.
Cole had never met any of them. Except, of course, the one he was currently sleeping with.
“All right, let’s try this again,” Cole had said. “How long have you been fucking Annika?”
Jordan froze, but only for a second. “Fucking Annika? Do you even hear yourself? I don’t have time for this.” He took his beer and left the kitchen.
“What about the money?” she asked, following him to the stairs. “How much did you really steal?”
He stopped, turning back toward her slowly. “It’s my money,” he said. “I can’t steal from myself. All I did was move it. It’s a nothing burger.”
“The forensic accountants looking at your company books might disagree.”
He took a step toward her, and instinctively Cole took a step back. She knew then she’d gone too far. His dark eyes appraised her, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. Assuming her husband could even feel anything at all.
“Watch yourself.” Jordan’s voice was soft. “I’ve about run out of patience with you, Nicolette.”
He only ever calls her by her birth name when they’re arguing. He likes reminding his wife of who she used to be before he came along and reinvented her into a person worthy of someone as amazing as him.
The crazy part is, Jordan may well be cleared of the charges. Last she heard, there was talk of him making restitution, and everybody involved in the investigation signing NDAs. Like he said, a nothing burger. It would be like it never happened.
Cole peeks out the window again. The silver SUV is gone.
You’d think by now she’d be used to all the lookie-loos driving through the neighborhood.
They were probably looking for Drake’s house—yes, that Drake, the rap superstar who lived four streets over in a custom-built palatial mansion.
Or maybe they were looking for Prince’s old house, or Gordon Lightfoot’s, or the home that once belonged to one of the sharks from Shark Tank.
The Bridle Path, nicknamed “Billionaires’ Row” (but only by people who don’t actually live here), is home to many of Toronto’s ultra-wealthy, from surgeons to CEOs to NBA players, though the majority of them aren’t actually billionaires.
Except for Lionel, that is, who lives in the mansion next door. A close friend of Jordan’s late father, Lionel Roth III—an actual billionaire with a B—is in his early seventies now, and he might be the most intimidating person Cole has ever met.
His fourth wife, Annika, however, was lovely from the start.
Though she was shy when they were first introduced, Cole felt an immediate connection with the newest Mrs. Roth, who was only twenty-five when she married the man nearly fifty years her senior.
She seemed as dazed and overwhelmed by her new husband’s wealth as Cole had been when she first married Jordan.
Just as Cecily had taken Cole under her wing, Cole had been happy to help the younger woman navigate her new life.
They had a lot in common. Neither of them came from money; Cole was from a small town in Washington, and Annika was from a fishing village in Holland.
Eventually, Cole introduced Annika to Phil Beatty, who immediately wanted her for Trophy Wives.
She was perfect for the show, and while her marriage wasn’t quite an Anna Nicole Smith–J.
Howard Marshall situation—Lionel Roth’s faculties have never been called into question, and he’s nowhere close to frail—that didn’t stop the cattier people from making the comparison behind their backs.
Whether Annika was interested in doing Trophy Wives or not didn’t matter.
Lionel Roth wholeheartedly disapproved of the reality show, and he was very controlling about where his young wife went and who she spent time with.
Instead of Annika’s social circle growing larger because of Lionel, it grew smaller. She was lonely.
Annika is home today. Cole caught a glimpse of her earlier when she did her pap walk.
They made eye contact, but did not wave to each other.
In any case, Cole can’t think about her now because a large pickup truck has just pulled up to the gate.
Taking a deep breath, Cole presses the button to let him in.
Parker is here.