“Why are you sitting over there with that smile on your face?” Camilla asked Corinne.

It was Saturday night, and they were at Camilla’s bachelorette venue, a night-club that they’d rented out. The party was in full swing, with dessert tables, wine, champagne, and of course sparkling cider for Camilla since she couldn’t drink any alcohol.

“It must be Xavier,” Camilla concluded when Corinne didn’t respond.

Corinne gave off a dreamy sigh, her thoughts still with Xavier the day before. Not only had he rocked her world all over that entire suite, but he gobbled her down like there was no food left to man—except her.

“Girl, I’m not even going to share. It would be rude and probably make a few of you hussies jealous.”

Camilla gawked as did the others, and Corinne laughed. They were accompanied by Monica, Allison, London, and a few other ladies from Camilla’s workplace.

“Oh, I’m not jealous of you by far,” Camilla said.

“Well, maybe not you, but these others hussies would be.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Keep it to yourself,” Allison said.

Allison Sullivan was the assignment editor over at WTZB. She and Camilla had become friends during Camilla’s transition from Miami to Chicago. Now she and Corinne were also good friends, so it only made sense for them to all be together. Besides that, Allison had her eye on Lance Valentine and vice versa, but she wasn’t one to believe that their friendship would go much further than the occasional phone calls they’d had thus far. That was one of the reasons she didn’t want to hear about Corinne’s escapade. She didn’t want to give envy a chance to wiggle its way into her spirit.

The lights dimmed and a beat dropped, then the disco bulbs hanging from the ceiling cast a multilayer of colors in one spot on the stage.

“Ouuu! You know what that means,” Corinne said, happy to change the subject.

“Oh my God, I told you guys not to go overboard,” Camilla said. She glanced around at all of them.

“Don’t blame me. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I was just recently invited.”

It was London Jones who’d spoken. After leaving the meeting with the Valentines and the Roses, London had run into Camilla also leaving the building. With an unfamiliar face before her, Camilla had asked London who she was looking for.

“Oh, I’m with the Roses. I’m London Jones, their caregiver.”

At Camilla’s arched brow, London reiterated. “I mean, not the Roses’ caregiver. I take care of one of the mothers-in-law.” She laughed nervously. “Anyway, I’m headed out.”

London turned to leave.

“What a minute,” Camilla said. “I’m Camilla Augustina.”

London’s surprise was shown on her face. “Oh, you’re the bride to be. Congratulations.” London held out her hand, and Camilla accepted with a smile.

“Thank you.” Camilla thought about her next proposal and felt inclined to go forward with it. “Listen, London, I’m not supposed to be here, but I had to stop by for a second. I’m actually on my way to lunch with a friend. If you’d like to join us, you’re more than welcome, too.”

Camilla knew the Valentines and the Roses were at odds, but in her opinion, it was nonsense, all male egos at play. If she could bring the power families together, they could both really make a difference in Chicago. Not that they weren’t now, but they were so busy fighting that they couldn’t see the potential. As the future Mrs. Valentine, Camilla felt compelled to do something, even if it was as small as having London enter their circle. Besides, London seemed harmless enough; she might even make a good ally.

“Oh no, I can’t. I have Ms. Stevens in the car, but thank you anyway.”

London went to leave again and was stopped a second time.

“London!” Camilla’s voice elevated. London turned back. “Are you off on Saturdays?”

London nodded. “Yeah, why?”

A smile eased across Camilla’s face. “How do you feel about bachelorette parties?”

From there, Camilla and London exchanged information, and now, London was among the crew at Jazzy’s night-club.

Allison stood to her feet. “Okay, Camilla, let’s go, you know how this works, don’t you?”

“Oh my God…” Camilla whined, standing to her feet. She was wearing a head crown with a bridal veil hanging from the back and a one piece all white body-hugging floral dress. On her feet, all-white Christian Louboutins. Allison grabbed her hand, and they sashayed up to the stage.

Corinne shook her head and laughed then took out her camera phone.

“This I have to get on video,” she said.

After helping Camilla to her seat, Allison moved from the stage when three muscled men in police gear strutted out on the stage.

“Ouuuuu!” Corinne shouted.

“Oh my God, my husband is going to kill ya’ll!” Camilla shouted.

“Girl, the only one seeing this video is us. Your husband will never know.”

The men danced up to Camilla and gyrated around her in circles.

“Whew!” Camilla exclaimed.

“Unhuh, acting like you don’t like it,” Corinne said from the front of the stage. She held her phone up as she recorded and laughed out loud with her tongue hanging out at the way they rubbed their third leg around her from all sides.

“Good lawd!” London said.

And the others howled with laughter.

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Allison added.

“Yes, yes!” Corinne agreed. Her video call was interrupted by a phone call. “Unknown number?” she muttered. “Here we go with this.”

“Hello,” Corinne answered.

“Hello, may I…”

“Hello, I can’t hear you, who’s this?”

The person on the other end tried to speak again, but there was static on the line, and Corinne could hardly hear with the music in the background of the club.

“Hold on for a minute let me find a quiet spot.”

Corinne slipped away from the girls, and Allison yelled over her shoulder.

“Where are you going, you’re supposed to be recording!”

“I’ll be back, take over for me.”

Corinne slipped through the tables and strolled down a long corridor to enter the women’s restroom. Although the club had been rented out, the building was a two-story industrial size structure. So where it was rented out on the second floor, the first floor was popping with party goers in a completely different layout.

“Hello,” Corinne shouted into the phone. The bathroom was empty, and she strolled to the sink to check her reflection in the mirror. “Hello? If you don’t say something, I’m hanging up now, who is this?”

Silence.

Corinne disconnected the call and sighed in frustration.

“Somebody’s trying to get me all worked up,” she spoke to herself in the mirror. “But you’re looking fierce, girl.” She turned from side to side to check her curves in the halter top and thigh-high skirt. The necklace around her neck read “Bride Squad.” She took her fingers over the arcs in the emblem. Swooping her hair to the side of her neck, Corinne rubbed her lips together and took an eye over the perfection of her foundation. “Excellent,” she said.

Corinne pulled her cell back to her face and scrolled through her call log. Unknown number, she read. Shrugging, she tucked the phone into her palm then walked across the vinyl floor and pushed through the bathroom doors to exit, running into the solid wall of a man’s chest.

“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was coming in…” Her eyes traveled up his island shirt and enlarged when they reached his face. “Carlos?!”

Carlos’s smile was eerie just like it had been the last time she’d seen him in Anguilla.

“Good evening, Corinne,” he said.

“What— what’re you doing here?” She asked, bewildered, but after the question left her lips, Corinne realized he’d called her by her government name. She took a step back.

“What’s going on, Carlos?” She tried not to show fear, but it was written more so in her voice than it was on her face.

“My name is not Carlos. Just like your name is not Angela.”

Corinne’s mouth went dry, and she glanced around quickly before bringing her eyes back to him.

“No one’s coming this way. I made sure of it before I came down the hall.”

A foreboding crept over Corinne. “What do you want?”

Carlos cocked his head to the side. “Isn’t it obvious? I want what I’ve always wanted. You.”

Carlos’s hand rose and the gleam from the gun in his hand caught her attention. Corinne gasped sharply.

“You would fare well not to scream. I don’t have a problem hurting the others if I need to, but I only came here for you.”

“Please, I don’t know what I did for you to—”

“Ssssh…” He put his finger to her lip, and Corinne fought the instinct to bite it off. “Come with me.” He nodded toward the elevator shaft, and Corinne hesitated then glanced back down the corridor. “Don’t,” Carlos said. Reluctantly, Corinne stepped in front of him and boarded with no other choice.