I think for a moment, rolling through a Rolodex of faces through my mind. Some of the faces are blurry, some clearer than others. Some of them work under me, and some of them have been under me.

Finally, I shake my head. “No, if we’re going to do this, it can’t be someone at the office. That’ll just be something else for them to bitch about,” I tell Kaede firmly, seeing their fear of a harassment lawsuit as clear as day. “And whoever it is, they have to know from the beginning. I’m not willing to play with some poor girl’s feelings for my own ends. Whoever we find will know exactly what it’s for . . . but will have to sign a very tight-knit NDA that they’re not to speak of the details behind our relationship when it ends.”

“Agreed,” Kaede says, running his hand through his hair, lost in thought. “But NDA . . . that’s hard. Law-wise, I mean. Once it’s out, you can’t get that cat back in the bag. It has to be someone trustworthy. So, where are we going to find this chick?”

“She’s out there somewhere,” I mutter, turning to look out the windows at the fading sunset and the city skyline. “We just need to find her.”

Chapter 3

Violet

There are three things for sure in life.

Death, taxes . . . and people calling you at the worst possible time.

Like my mom calling me right now to discuss my upcoming nonexistent wedding. But I have to answer. If I don’t, Maria Russo will go full mother-mode and call Archie to track me down. No one, least of all me, gets away from her, and Archie takes my mom’s side more often than mine any time we have even the slightest difference in opinion.

“Hey, baby girl!” my mom sings as I answer the phone and simultaneously drive to pick up Archie for our big design job meeting. Her voice echoes through my car on the speakerphone, as powerful as she is. My mother is a fifty-four-year-old single woman who’s been through the fire and back raising me, and she’s only too happy to finally see me getting married off. “How’s my soon-to-be-bride feeling this morning? Are you blind from staring at your sparkly engagement ring yet?”

Her words come out in an excited rush, and if I weren’t so used to her way of speaking, I wouldn’t have understood a word.

Shit.

I can’t imagine how she’s going to react when I tell her the wedding isn’t happening. She wants to see me married almost as much as I do.

I do.

Irony at its finest, I think tragically, because I won’t be saying that anytime soon.

But it’s better I head things off now, before she’s too invested in the idea.

Taking a deep breath, I summon all the courage I can muster and say slowly, “Hey, Mom . . . I have some bad news—”

There are times when Mom is already running full-steam ahead and hears only what she wants to hear. And unfortunately, this happens to be one of those times. She ignores my slow-roll lead-in.

“I just got off the phone with your Nana,” Mom says right over me, her mouth going a mile a minute, “and she’s over the moon at the news . . . and the great part about it all is, she’s already invited all of your cousins!”

“My cousins . . .” I groan, feeling like I just got kneed in the stomach. When I told Mom and Nana my wedding date was scheduled, I didn’t think they’d preemptively invite my whole family before the wedding invitations were even done.

“Yep!” Mom chirps cheerfully. “Besides your cousins that are here in the US, you have other cousins coming from all over. Italy, France, basically all over Europe. Everyone’s so excited for the next Russo to walk that aisle.”

“Mom!” I rasp. “I told you not to tell anyone yet! Abi still hasn’t even finished printing the wedding invitations!”

I put a hand to my forehead, smacking myself at the useless argument, as if spoiling the surprise of an invite is the biggest deal here. As if ‘Hey, there’s actually not going to be a wedding.’ is just a small detail.

“Vi,” Mom says flippantly, and I can imagine her waving a manicured hand as she rolls her eyes, “everyone knew you were getting married, anyway! Nana was on the phone with people at home as soon as you told her. The grapevine moves fast, baby girl.”

“But . . . flying in from Europe? What?” I ask in disbelief. I barely remember that I even have cousins all over Europe. I haven’t seen them since . . . the last Russo wedding, I guess.

“Yes, of course!” my mom growls in exasperation. “You know we have a big family, and everyone wants to celebrate your special day.”

“But . . . you . . .” I stammer, the thought of all these people ordering pricey plane tickets on my behalf making me want to vomit.

Still steamrolling, she continues. “Everyone is so happy for you! You should be jumping up and down with joy!” I swear I hear her clapping her hands, and judging by the weird noises coming through the speaker, Mom’s jumping for me.

“But, Mom—”

“I can’t wait to see my darling little girl in her wedding dress,” Mom muses as if I’m already standing before her. Her mood changes in an instant, from giddy happiness to sappy tears. “You’re going to look so beautiful. You did find the dress you’ve been looking for, didn’t you?”