Chapter Eleven

Kristen

I watch Jo disappear into Lola’s office then pick up my phone and start texting Liza.

You shouldn’t have! I’m certain Jo costs a fortune I’ll never be able to pay back.

Liza responds, Of course I should have. I owe you tenfold for trusting me all those years.

Oh, Liza. A lump suddenly forms in my throat. She and Dominic have always been in love, but when they separated, it took a decade before they rediscovered their love, and it almost cost both of them their lives. I’ve always known she’d never betray or hurt Dominic, and I guess she really appreciated that…even though it wasn’t a big deal. I just went with my gut.

I trusted you because you’re a good person. And I didn’t do it expecting a payout, I type.

You’re my baby sister now. I’ve always wanted one. Let me indulge you.

Hmm. The whole baby sister thing is a lot more palatable coming from her. Thank you. And I love you.

Love you too. Now go dazzle Antoine until he doesn’t know what hit him.

I smile. Liza the matchmaker.

Since the Snickers bar has been declared off limits, I go to the break room to see if there’s anything healthy in our vending machine. Ah ha. A cup of fruit chunks in gelatin looks great. I’ll get two, actually. I don’t do well on low sugar.

As I feed the machine my quarters, I hear an ear-piercing scream from behind me. I jump, then turn around, my heart pounding. “What?” I say.

“Oh my God, oh my God!” A woman stares, one hand on her chest, and points. “A spider! So gross!”

I squint. A teeny thing, about a quarter an inch long, scuttles on the floor. Bet it’s more scared of the woman than she is of it, especially with the ruckus she’s making.

I grab a small paper cup and put it over the spider, so the woman can’t see it anymore. “There. Better?”

Her sizable chest is still rising and falling rapidly. Up down, up down. She pants like mad, a tad too dramatically. “Yes.”

I peer at her. Her long platinum hair is unbound and straight, almost reaching the small of her back. There’s subtle, artful makeup on her face, contouring it until her high, delicate cheekbones and pretty nose stand out. Her large, wide eyes are the color of the Nordic sea, and with a rosebud mouth, she looks like a doll. A well-made, premium doll. Fragile, too. And quite fashionable in an ice-blue silk dress that fits her like spray paint and a pair of sky-high heels. The accessories on her ears and throat are tasteful but expensive. Tiffany items.

Is she a model? I dismiss the thought as quickly as it pops into my head. Lola likes her models extra leggy and extra tall. Although this woman has amazing legs—the exact pair I wish I had—she’s too short, even with those heels.

“Thank you,” she says finally, punctuating it with a tittering laugh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

I smile, saying nothing, although I don’t know why she added that. If I hadn’t been in the room, she could’ve just left. The break room doesn’t even have a door. Nobody’s trapping her here, especially not the tiny spider.

“I’m Kristen,” I say.

“Tessa Maxim.”

She smiles. It’s a nice smile, showing just enough of her straight white teeth to be open and friendly, but something about it is unsettling. Then it hits me. It’s the same kind of smile Liza often put on before reuniting with Dominic—graciously obligatory. Except Tessa’s is emptier and—incredibly enough—even more practiced.

“Well, um, nice to meet you. Are you here to…?”

“You too. And I’m here to see Lola. I need to have a special wedding dress made.”

“Congratulations,” I say, although her ring finger’s oddly empty. Maybe she had to get it resized or something. She doesn’t strike me as the type to forgo a ring, like some of the more practical couples I know. People who are that pragmatic do not have Lola design their dresses. Or have their long nails painted with pink cherry blossoms against a vivid pearlescent magenta, accented with small faux-diamond chips.

“Anyway, thanks again,” she says, then she grabs a cup of coffee and leaves.

I get a fresh mug too, and the fruit cups from the vending machine. I start to walk away, then stop. The spider!

I squat down and pull the cup off the eight-legged creature. It looks at me balefully over its imprisonment. “You’re lucky I don’t hate you.”

I decide it’s a male and scoop him into the cup, then put a lid on it, intending to take him outside where he can’t terrorize anybody else.

But then I get a better idea.

“You know what, Mr. Arachnid? You should come home with me.” I stand and start walking back to my cubicle, juggling my four cups. “Why? Well. You have to help me. You like being helpful, don’t you?”

I’m talking to a spider like it can understand me. A giggle wells up. It’s fun and oddly comforting to think I have a co-conspirator, even if he’s just a teeny little thing…and probably unwitting.

* * *

Antoine

Today’s pickup goes without a hitch. Mrs. Lim is a nice woman, and the papholes are being slower than usual. But I know it’s only a matter of time before they figure out how Kristen is leaving the place. If they applied the same persistence to solving world hunger, nobody would starve.

Kristen’s in a perky mood. Maybe things have gone well at work. Certainly there’s no shithead cousin trying to tell her how she should live her life…or who she ought to marry and have babies with to inherit money she doesn’t want.

“Do you need to get anything from your place?” I ask. “Make me a list and I’ll have it sent over.”

“I don’t think so. I brought everything I need yesterday.”

Both my eyebrows rise before I can stop them. “Huh.”

“Why huh?”

“Because you only brought a carry-on case.”

“So?”

“Most women need at least two truckloads of stuff.”

Kristen giggles, reassuring me that she’s okay. The social media reaction hasn’t gotten much better, especially with some shitholes claiming they saw her flashing other underage kids. Hopefully she hasn’t logged on to Facebook or Twitter.

“Is that a subtle dig at Liza for taking four suitcases on her honeymoon?” Kristen says.

I shrug. “It isn’t like she’s going to be wearing a lot of clothes. Even if she were, Dominic would strip them off her.”

Kristen presses her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Ack! Gross, Antoine! He’s my brother!”

I laugh. It’s fun to tease her, and the side benefit of having her forget all her worries isn’t bad either.

And she’s super adorable when she’s being teased.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

She’s adorable like the sister I never had. Not adorable as in a sexy, hot, desirable woman I’m doing my best to put in my “don’t touch” box.

But it’s impossible to find her less than mesmerizing when her eyes sparkle, her cheeks flush and there’s a big smile on her soft lips. My skin prickles as awareness sweeps over me, and I tighten my grip around the steering wheel.

Like the SINH. Like the SINH.

This isn’t helping. SINH sounds like sin, not a libido-killing acronym for Sister I Never Had.

Libido: one. Antoine: zero.

Fail.