“Let me tell you a little about Nick...”
Chapter 14
TWO HOURS LATER, I was convinced I’d found my girl. Everything from the snake-like eyes, to the heavily made-up face, to the cheap blonde dye job. It was perfect.
She was striking, don’t get me wrong. But striking, not beautiful. The kind of girl that you’d fantasize about once or twice in college, feel dirty for it, then find someone else instead.
Nick had dated striking, don’t get me wrong. At one point, I’d gotten a panicked call in the middle of the night saying he was in Vegas—about to elope with a porn star.
But striking wasn’t his type.
Nick liked the finer things in life. Nick liked beautiful.
We drove into the city together, scheduled to meet Nick at his favorite place. She texted him on the way and asked to change locations.
He liked spontaneity—I’d said. (Just not exactly like that.)
Instead, she’d asked if he’d meet her at a Japanese restaurant.
He loved seafood—I’d said. (Just not at the moment. Not since the lobster.)
Nick agreed, as I knew he would. He was a gentleman, after all. And just twenty minutes later, our cab was pulling up against the curb.
Ella fussed and primped and applied so many coats of lip gloss, I bet she’d added a good half an inch to her face. When she was finally finished, she turned to me for support.
“What do you think?”
That same devilish smile started creeping back up my face, but I forced it down—pursing my lips with a professional assessment.
“I think...it’s going to be a day to remember.”
Abby Wilder...you are going to hell.
The cab was dismissed, as we darted through the cold and into the restaurant.
While Ella started craning her head around the second we walked inside, looking eagerly for the paparazzi, I walked straight up to the receptionist.
“Colton Breakhard?” I asked softly.
It was Nick’s alias whenever he went out. Restaurants. Hotels. Falsified travel documents. He’d thought it up late one night, and found himself quite clever.
The woman flipped through a list, then nodded at me with a secret smile—pleased to be in on the con. In the two years I’d been doing this, every receptionist was the same.
“He’s at a table in the back. Not a private room—like you asked.”
Another little con. But one that was easily excusable. The point of this whole thing was to be as public as possible, right?
“Thank you.”
I turned back to Ella and gestured her forward. I swear
—the girl was checking herself out in the mirror.
“This should be really easy,” I reassured her. “Just a simple meet and greet—make sure the two of you are compatible. Now, from what I’ve been told, you don’t drink, correct?”
It made her perfect for Nick’s image. Terrible for Nick himself.
She shook her head, taking on the sudden ridiculous expression of a martyr.