Chapter 15
MICHAEL
Michael held the door of the Bay Café open for Maggie and followed her out into the late afternoon sun. They had just finished lunch.
The walk from the café to Maggie’s boutique was not far. It was the building beside the small mall that housed the Bay Café. Michael was not in any hurry. If he was being honest with himself, he was trying to find whatever excuse he could to prolong the time with Maggie.
"Michael," Maggie said gently, three steps along the path.
"Mm?" Michael answered.
"You’ve got something on your cheeks,” Maggie told him with a sweet smile.
"What?" Michael asked, lifting a hand toward his own face.
“It looks like a fire engine red lipstick to me,” Maggie told him innocently.
Michael stopped walking. He turned to face her. And then glanced in the window behind her.
"Maggie," Michael said slowly, "how long has it been there?"
"Mm," Maggie hummed, tilting her head. "From when Vanessa kissed you hello."
"What?” Michael spluttered. “Do you mean I met…” He didn’t say the name of the celebrity, as Maggie was touchy about that. “I met my favorite actress with lip marks on my cheeks.”
“Yup,” Maggie said with a casual nod. “You did.”
“And you never thought to tell me?” Michael glared at her.
“Nope.” Maggie shook her head and grinned sheepishly.
“So I’ve gone through the past few hours with lipstick on my face?” Michael’s glare intensified. “And you never once thought to inform me?”
"I considered it," Maggie answered, with a small, sweet smile that was the most dangerous expression he’d ever seen on her. "But then I thought about it, and I decided not to."
"Why?" Michael asked with a sideways glance at her.
“Well, once upon a time, there was a nine-year-old girl who had a bunny that she loved very much,” Maggie began, and Michael rolled his eyes.
“Here we go,” Michael muttered. “Pack a bag, we’re going on a guilt trip.”
“The rabbit was her emotional support pet,” Maggie continued. “Until one day her brother made it disappear in a magic hat.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or so he told us…”
“Okay, I get it,” Michael held up his hands with a sigh. “You didn’t tell me about the lipstick because I didn’t tell you about Salty.”
“Oh, Michael,” Maggie leaned closer. Her perfume teased his senses as she lowered her voice. “That was just a taster of what’s to come. Unless you want to just tell me now what really happened to Salty.”
He shook his head and glanced in the window to ensure the lipstick was gone.
Michael let out a long, surrendered breath. He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. He stepped to the side, into the soft shade of the bakery awning, and began to scrub at his cheek.
"Why are you so fixated on that rabbit?" Michael asked.
"Because it really devastated my best friend when he disappeared into your hat," Maggie reminded him. "And you know how I hold grudges, especially when someone I hurt has been wronged."
"How did we even get back onto the subject of that stupid rabbit?” Michael said in exasperation.
“It was your magic that brought it up again, Michael,” Maggie pointed out. “You should’ve known it would catch up with you again one day,” she teased him in a Godfather-type voice.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head again, his heart going crazy at how adorable she was and secretly pleased she’d kept their challenge alive.
They used to have silly challenges all the time when they were kids.
Granted, Maggie usually won, but… he was an attorney now and a lot older; he was sure he could take her on this one.
Even with her sneaky, underhanded tactics.
He turned his cheek toward her.
"Is all the lipstick off now?" Michael asked.
"Yup," Maggie answered, grinning.
Michael narrowed his eyes at her distrustingly, then stepped sideways, angled himself toward the store window, lifted his chin, and checked his own reflection in the glass. Both cheeks were clean.
Maggie was laughing softly behind him.
"You didn’t believe me," Maggie observed.
“You just told me this is just the beginning,” Michael pointed out. “I wasn’t going to trust you.”
“Fair enough,” Maggie conceded.
He pocketed the handkerchief.
“Nice hankie,” Maggie pointed out. “I didn’t know they still made those. I thought they stopped in the 1800’s when they went out of fashion.”
“Funny,” Michael said, then did something he knew she hated. He tugged on a piece of her hair.
“Hey, don’t touch the hair,” Maggie hissed, laughing.
“Don’t pick on my hankie,” Michael countered. “And remember how many times it’s saved you.”
They reached the corner where Maggie’s shop was, and he stopped as a phone he knew wasn’t his buzzed in his pocket. Michael pulled the phone out.
Kevin had no passcode, which meant the message preview sat clearly on the lock screen for both of them to see. He read the preview and raised one eyebrow.
"Maggie," Michael said quietly. "It looks like Vanessa is efficient after all."
"What does it say?" Maggie asked, leaning in.
He turned the screen toward her. The preview read in full:
The website is updated, babe. The new designs are live. Should we save the celebrity post for tomorrow or push tonight? The orders are already rolling in. We’re going to be RICH.
Maggie read it twice. Her smile, when it came, was slow and crafty.
"She really did walk right into the trap feet first," Maggie said.
"She really did," Michael agreed.
"We could pull this up on my laptop," Maggie suggested. "I want to see what she’s actually put on the website."
“Sure,” Michael said and then wanted to kick himself at how fast he’d agreed.
Michael didn’t let her see that he’d been hoping she’d suggest exactly that, because he wasn’t ready for his time with her to end.
The boutique was quiet, and her two assistants were neatening up the shelves when Michael and Maggie walked into the shop. They both looked up and greeted them.
Maggie led Michael back through the boutique to the design room. She unlocked the door, let him in, and closed the door behind them.
Maggie crossed to the desk where just a few hours ago they’d sat with Vanessa and Kevin. She opened the laptop perched on top of her desk as Michael sat beside her. He was, suddenly and acutely, aware of how close they were sitting.
Michael forced himself to look at the screen.
Maggie typed. The Kitsch Couture homepage filled the screen. And there it was.
The front page of Vanessa's boutique website now featured a large image of the decoy sketch Maggie had drawn that morning, with a banner across the top that read Exclusive New Bridal Line — Inspired by Hollywood.
Pre-Order Now. Below the sketch sat a smaller gallery, and the second photo in the gallery was Vanessa's selfie with the celebrity, who was wearing the silk separates Maggie had couriered to her that morning.
The caption beneath the selfie read Coming soon to Kitsch Couture in collaboration with Maggie's Originals.
Maggie went very still beside him.
"In collaboration with Maggie's Originals," Maggie repeated softly. Anger reverberated through her voice. "She used my brand name."
Maggie sat back slowly in her chair, and to Michael’s surprise, she was smiling.
It was not a warm smile but one of a predator that had just cornered its prey and knew there was no place else for it to go.
"I told you," Maggie said quietly. "She just couldn't resist."
"I never doubted you for a moment, Maggie," Michael answered.
He realized, as he said it, that he was looking at her again instead of at the screen, and that her face had turned toward his. Her eyes had darkened, and his heart picked up speed as his pulse raced. He cleared his throat. He turned, deliberately, to Kevin's phone on the table.
"Right," Michael said firmly, clearing his throat once again. "Now let us see what we have on this."
He tapped the screen. The phone unlocked, and Michael stared at it for a full two seconds.
"He still doesn’t have a passcode on this thing," Maggie observed, leaning over to see.
"Doesn’t look like it," Michael confirmed.
"For someone who is such a chancer and a cheater," Maggie said in disgust, "you’d think he’d be more security-conscious."
"Or he is just cocky," Michael suggested. “He probably thinks no one would dare look at his phone.”
"He is definitely arrogant," Maggie agreed.
Michael opened the messaging app. He let out a low whistle as he scrolled the thread between Kevin and Vanessa, which was an open book.
It went back months. There were photographs.
There were running commentaries from Vanessa about every time she had to take pictures inside Maggie's boutique.
There were names of a freelance designer Vanessa had clearly been paying to copy Maggie's silhouettes and produce slightly cheaper knock-offs at speed.
The names of two staff members at two other high-end boutiques in Naples and Fort Myers, who had been slipping Vanessa photos of incoming stock.
It looked like Vanessa and Kevin were paying the staff members at these high-end boutiques $200 per photograph.
There were screenshots Vanessa had taken of designer files she could not possibly have had legitimate access to.
It was, in attorney terms, a confession. In private. In writing. Sent across a phone with no passcode by a woman who could not stop bragging about her crimes.
"Maggie," Michael said quietly. "This is a goldmine."
"Yes, it is," Maggie agreed. “I knew it would be. Kevin keeps all his messages as leverage or in case he get sued.”
"We need to get these copied onto another device," Michael continued. "Right now. Before he notices the phone he has doesn’t even have a sim card in it.”
"You can do a cloud upload," Maggie said. "We can screenshot everything.”
"Do it," Michael agreed, handing her Kevin’s phone.