Chapter 3
Emily’s revenge plan was shelved as she found herself on a flight to California the next morning. She knew telling her best friend the wedding was off in the group chat shared with Chelsea would stir something. What she hadn’t expected was a plane ticket.
She’d tried to talk her way out of it, but if there was anyone who was the definition of relentless, it was Zariah Davis. And there she was, leaning against the railing. Emily spotted her as the Arrivals sign flickered overhead.
Zariah was hard to miss in a crowd. She had the features of a living Barbie doll. Her hair was styled into a bun with two twist strands spilling around the edges. Her body held slim shoulders and hips that were nothing short of perfect.
From behind the shades she wore, Emily met Zariah’s eyes. Instantly, her mask slipped. The wheels of her carry-on wobbled as she stumbled into her friend’s arms.
“What did that bastard do to you, Emmy?”
It was exactly what she needed to hear: that nickname. Zariah had called her that since they were kids, back when Emily’s biggest dream as a child actress was to win an Emmy. The pun hadn’t been lost on her friend, and somehow, it had stuck.
“I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve known you were right. You’re always right,” Emily croaked against her shoulder.
Zariah pulled back and framed her cheeks in her hands, almost causing Emily’s sunglasses to fall off. “You know I never liked Jake for you.”
“I know,” Emily breathed in resignation.
Her friend looped an arm around Emily’s shoulders, steering her toward the exit. “I expected him to slip up eventually,” Zariah confessed. “Just be glad it happened before you walked down the aisle.”
“Chelsea said something similar.”
“As expected.” Zariah grinned. “How’s my girl doing?”
She said it like they didn’t always talk over the phone.
Chelsea and Zariah were two peas in a pod. Both were always ready to take the world by storm. Beneath all that bravado though, they were the biggest softies she knew. The kind that baked cookies and cried at every dog commercial.
“She’s trying for law school again.”
“Isn’t this her third time?”
“Fourth,” Emily corrected. “Her new professor’s hot. Apparently, he’s worth sticking around for.”
Zariah guffawed, but Emily noticed how she’d stepped in front of her, shielding her from the passengers hustling by. Her heart swelled seeing that habit from years ago.
“The car’s waiting. Javier made that pumpkin soup you liked the last time you visited. I stocked your favorite snacks and tea.”
Emily pressed her cheek against hers. “I love you, Zee.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”
When they made it to the Davis-Rodriguez estate, there in the kitchen, apron tied over his crisp dress shirt, was Zariah’s husband, Javier. The chef was taller than Emily remembered. His face lit up with a charming smile.
He pulled his wife in first, kissing her temple softly. Zariah melted. Then he turned to Emily with a tentative hug, as if he was scared to break her.
“Mija, you’re too skinny!” Javier cried, patting her back.
“She’s fine, amor,” Zariah cut in, elbowing him in the side. “And what’s that smell? Are you burning the bread?”
“Don’t joke like that,” he snapped in an accent. “Go. I’ll bring you girls some tea.”
After Emily put her luggage away, her and Zariah were curled up in the guest bedroom under a comforter.
Zariah tugged Emily’s head onto her lap, threading her fingers through her waves.
They went over everything that had happened to her.
Jake’s infidelity, Stella’s pregnancy and how they both had her fooled.
Zariah listened, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face. They went from anger to hurt and then finally concern.
“You still want kids?” Emily asked suddenly.
It came after a prolonged silence, following Zariah’s teary-eyed consolation and the repeated assurance that it was Jake’s loss, not hers.
Zariah’s fingers stilled in Emily’s hair. “Yeah. We’ve been trying. It hasn’t been easy though.”
“Yet you still love him.”
She laughed, her hand moving again. “Of course I do. He’s not perfect, but he’s mine. I’d rather fight beside him than pretend to be happy with someone else.”
Emily felt a sting behind her eyes. “Must be nice.”
Zariah tapped her on the shoulder gently. “You’ll get it one day. Maybe sooner than you think.”
A pianist played a rendition of a Chopin piece as Emily swayed.
“Stay right here, Emmy,” Zariah instructed, more sober than she’d let on. “I’m gonna ask Javier to tell the driver to bring the car around.” Then she went to the main area to find him.
They were at the restaurant where he was the head chef. His customers were often reputable people seeking fine dining. That explained why it was always booked in advance. Emily didn’t need to worry about that. Perks of her best friend being his wife.
Emily didn’t listen to said wife though. She’d drunk far too much and was just sobering up after downing two bottles of water.
She found herself slipping past guests in an empty hallway. Then she spotted it. The female restroom sign. Relief surged through her like a wave.
As she stepped forward, her ears caught the muffled voices of two men inside a room. The dynamic was weird; one amused, the other frustrated.
She peeped inside because, well, she couldn’t help it.
A man sat at the private table in a fitted suit. His posture was rigid and a half-drunk wineglass rested before him. Across from him lounged another man. He was much older judging by his salt-and-pepper hair. He adjusted his glasses as he shuffled through an open briefcase.
“I’m running out of time here, John. My company’s shareholders’ meeting is in a month. If I walk in there single again, they’ll be circling me like sharks. I can’t afford for this to happen.”
Emily could only see his side profile.
Honestly though…that was more than enough. That kind of face didn’t need a full view to know it was stunning.
The shuffler adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Re, you knew they’d use this against you eventually. They had their complaints about you being President of the North American branch at twenty-thre—”
“I’ve worked my ass off since I was eighteen, never letting my studies slip in between while being at Harvard. I’m no different than anyone else that started at the bottom.”
“Yes, but they don’t have the surname of Re.”
“So, it’s my fault for simply being born into my family now?”
He laughed. “Don’t act clueless. Your intelligence doesn’t allow you the virtue to be.”
Nothing was said in return.
John leaned in. “There’s no doubt about how much you’ve added to Royal Media.
You’ve helped make it an empire even before your father’s prompt retirement, a full five years earlier than the succession plan.
And we both know the repercussions of this.
You’re now one of Fortune 500’s youngest CEOs.
They’re damn well threatened by you. That’s why they’ll use your radical ventures as leverage.
The board is claiming these decisions make you reckless. ”
“Making them richer than they’ve ever been in their pathetic excuse for lives makes me ‘reckless’?
” The man let out a bitter laugh. “It’s just an excuse, John.
Them wanting proof that I can be stable through marriage.
I’m also certain this is tied to a PR move for the pending global streaming acquisition.
‘Family-first branding,’ remember? You’re a lawyer, even you should be able to see through their bullshit. ”
Did he just say marriage?
“I do, and at this point, I advise you to just give them what they want.”
The “reckless” man scoffed. “You say that like it’s easy. It’s not like I can conjure up a wife out of thin air.”
His lawyer stared him down. “It wouldn’t be the craziest thing you’ve done.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious,” John reaffirmed. “Hire someone. You just need a woman by your side, with both of you wearing rings on your fingers. Better yet, just your signatures on a certificate. No one will care how that came to be.”
The guy pinched the bridge of his nose. His head turned with the act and that was when Emily froze.
Hands down the most captivating man she’d ever seen.
That had been a fact eight years ago, and it was more true with being the man he’d grown into today.
Her urge to pee suddenly subsided.
She’d spotted him at an event a year ago. Even with such a small passage of time, he managed to look even better.
He had the kind of face that many actors she knew would envy and risk going under the knife for.
His bone structure was insanely symmetrical.
Jawline so sharp it looked like it could cut.
His dark hair fell just enough over his forehead to give him that slightly brooding edge, unlike its usual sweep back.
She felt her throat bob with a swallow.
His eyes, rich and as bitter as coffee beans, were penetrating. As if they could see through all forms of pretense. As if they could make you say what you didn’t want to, feel what you didn’t want to.
One fall of her gaze led to that perfectly shaped mouth of his. There was that beauty mark below the right corner.
Emily imagined what it’d be like to lick it.
What the hell? Where did that thought come from?
But her eyes continued their onslaught.
While he was seated, the crisp charcoal suit clung to him just right. She flushed as her mind conjured up images of lean muscles hidden beneath it.
It was awkward to think of this man like that.
CEO of Royal Media, Nicolas Re.
That name carried many associations. For Emily though, it brought back the memory of him being scolded by his father in a hotel theater, fighting back tears.
His family’s media group had grown into one of the most powerful in the world, even acquiring a top-tier talent agency. Their second largest branch was in Los Angeles, so seeing him around this side of the country wasn’t surprising.
She knew Nicolas was both feared and respected.
More of the latter, actually. Impressively so, without dark rumors to his name like his father had.
That made it all the more surreal how he now sat here powerless.
Forced into a marriage to protect his position, like a pawn in a game he was supposed to be the master of.
Wait a minute.
Emily’s heart thudded.
Jake’s lips on Stella’s mouth flashed before her eyes.
A fake marriage...to Nicolas Re.
No strings attached. No risk of love. Just paper.
That’s it!
Exactly what Emily needed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back—to destroy Jake. He wanted to propose and not commit to it, fine by her. That didn’t mean she couldn’t still get married. Married to a man that will make him crawl out of his skin.
Jake hated Nicolas.
“Hate” even seemed too tame a word. His disdain was on a whole other level. Emily had spent many days drowning out his complaints of Nicolas being unworthy of his position as it was handed over on a silver platter.
Truthfully, that had rubbed her the wrong way.
Just because someone was born into wealth didn’t mean they didn’t work hard.
She’d tried to outlive that same stereotype since she started acting.
The stares, the assumptions of whether her roles were landed by her talent or last name. She knew the effects of it all.
Something Jake would never understand.
Her pulse fluttered in excitement at getting back at said man.
Emily stepped toward the gentlemen, her heels clicking against the floor, and drawing their attention to her.
A light caress of the wind blew her hair back as she looked at her main target.
“Will you marry me?”