The party continued into the wee hours of the night, though Axel sent me home much earlier. I'd begged him to—the longer I lingered, drinking, mingling, the less I trusted myself.

If I ended up being there last, not only would I be putting myself in a position to want to sleep with him again, but Estelle's suspicions would grow.

When I woke in the morning, the journalist we'd invited emailed a link to his article. I smiled as I read it. It was a glowing review of an upper-scale, L.A. party, where he praised the planning skills, the decorative crew, and wished luck to the brides in their new lives. Tasteful, mostly accurate, and no pictures that hadn't been approved by Axel.

Best of all, no pictures of me or Axel sending each other hungry gazes across the crowded room.

The article featured Paradox in a positive way—Olivia would be thrilled—but it also showcased me and L.A. Love Wedding Planners.

"The planner, Vivienne Clarke, pulled this all together at the drop of a hat, bringing a group of eclectic, expensive vendors to collaborate for such a star-studded night. Congrats to her, and kudos to her firm, L.A. Love Wedding Planners, for their extensive knowledge in the industry."

It wasn't fair; I hadn't pulled any of it together. I'd sent directions and told everyone to be at Axel's place to set-up.

I'd been too busy in the guest bathroom with my legs spread apart. There wasn't a single thing about the party that I should have gotten credit for.

But, knowing Axel, he'd want me to shut up and take that credit anyway, so I wouldn't lose my job.

A few hours later, as I was about to leave my studio to start my rounds, I received an email from Brent; a string of fake words that could only be construed as passive-aggressive congratulations.

I never would have trusted you with any of it, but I'm thankful you managed to get a reporter to mention us in a good way. Whatever you're doing, I guess it's working, so try not to mess anything up, okay?

I winced as I typed up a quick thank-you and a promise to keep working my ass off.

Little did he know, I'd done nothing for the engagement party. I was the errand-girl, meeting with vendors, negotiating prices that Axel would pay anyway, running about town touring all sorts of venues for other events leading up to the wedding.

It was draining, and the planned date felt like it was around the corner.

There was still so much to do.

I rushed around in a mix of Ubers and public transportation, trying not to think about last night. Trying not to let the notion of Axel and I's sneaking around bother me.

Because our sneaking around had drawn the wrong attention.

Estelle knew.

Estelle knew about us, and Axel hadn't denied it. But what did she know? Had she only perceived a hint of the attraction between us? Maybe thought it was innocent?

Had she gauged the lustful looks we believed were so discreet, and figured out they meant more than simple lust?

Or had she caught us at it in St. Tropez? Had she somehow caught us here in L.A?

I wanted to confront her, but Axel warned me not to. At the party, after our hushed discussion, he cornered me near the bar, and whispered that we weren't to speak to Estelle about any of our thoughts, ever.

"If she knows, she'll bring it up to me, and I'll tell you. So if you don't hear anything...assume we're safe."

Safe—I wasn't sure I'd ever comprehend the full extent of that word.

Nothing I did was safe. My job wasn't safe—not only because of Axel and I, but because Brent was out to get me—my heart wasn't safe, my reputation wasn't safe. In the past few months, I'd done nothing but put myself in awful situations that, while they felt good physically, drained me emotionally.

I was a wreck. Barely functioning on caffeine, hiding under a mask of makeup, and praying under my breath fifteen times a day to get through it. If I finished Estelle's wedding, received another rave review, that was it. Axel and I wouldn't need to see each other anymore, unless we opted to start dating. And then, we'd be in the clear. We'd be legal.

I tormented myself over the quality of everything I did. Every vendor I interviewed, I ensured they answered all the questions, that they provided me with every last detail. I was thorough, more so than I'd been for Violet's wedding. I texted Estelle with any updates or changes. Mollie sometimes sent me messages, but I largely spoke with Estelle.

She was lovely, kind, a powerful woman; and extremely intimidating. Every time I forwarded her a change in vendor or a modification in something she'd asked for, I panicked. Would she scream? Would she go Bridezilla on me?

Or would she retort that she knew everything between Axel and I, and I was in deep trouble?

There was no guaranteeing she wouldn't tell Brent. If Axel got to her in time, he'd prevent that, but what if she'd already reported to him? What if I was on the chopping block and didn't even know it yet?

And then there was Olivia. Olivia. The tension between us was palpable enough that even from across the room, I felt her. Smelled her. And unfortunately, I wanted her. Being with her would bring on less complicated career matters, but it would break my heart, ruin all my healing progress.

Having to be in a room with the woman who broke me, and the man who fucked me, was a nightmare.

I didn't know who knew about Olivia and me. We'd been seen together in the past, but not too often captured by cameras. When her fame grew, I was rarely mentioned in the press alongside her. I ceased to exist when her brand took off, and our breakup wasn't even reported in any news outlets, despite her name carrying more weight.

So as far as I was concerned, no one knew we were exes, and I wanted it to stay that way. If Estelle was aware, she didn't mention it. If Axel was aware...

He of all people couldn't know. I'd mentioned Olivia to him, though not her actual name. He knew how she'd abandoned me, how she'd chosen her fame over me, and he'd despised her on the spot.

Who knew how he'd react to knowing that very woman was the one handling the makeup for his sister's wedding? He'd fire her. And I couldn't be responsible for Olivia losing such a high-profile gig.

My tasks kept me occupied. I received no word from Axel—nothing that wasn't a cryptic address with a name of someone to meet with—so I presumed I was, as he'd said, safe.

Safe enough, at least.

Enough to help me sleep through the night.

***

Several weeks passed, and I was busier than ever. Flowers, rehearsal spaces, food and drink tastings, dress shopping with bridesmaids—every day was more packed than the next. Which made sense, since we had to cram nearly a year's worth of planning into less than three months.

The date loomed a month ahead of us, and there were still details to be finalized. There were music choices, auditions for bands and DJs, crafted decorations to be approved.

Somehow, I managed to avoid both Axel and Olivia with my hectic schedule. Axel messaged me with all the meetings he set up, and allowed me to use his car service, though he never asked me to go to his penthouse again. Most of the errands I ran were far, far from Beverly Hills.

Olivia sent a few texts to check on me. Some were flirtatious, others more serious. She kept claiming she needed my input on things, but I'd defer her to Estelle or Mollie, as I couldn't make final decisions on makeup products.

She was trying to get my attention, seeking an excuse for us to meet up, but I knew better. I wouldn't cave.

Estelle and Mollie were on the phone with me daily, by that point. If either of them had been suspicious, they didn't sound like it now. They were stressed, excited, and eager to get it all over with. They kept having issues with their outfits and sent me back and forth between competing shops to find alternates, just in case.

"Brent is having a meltdown," Chi told me one morning, as we went together to meet with some bartenders Estelle was interested in hiring. While the hotel had its own staff, Estelle and Mollie were very particular about their wait-staff. They'd selected a few individuals for me to interview personally.

"A meltdown?" The car swerved down a side-alley, and Chi and I both gripped the door-handles. "About what?"

"Business," Chi said, fixing their hair back into place. "That article brought him an onslaught of planning requests. He keeps throwing fits because he claims no one is good enough at the firm."

I scoffed. "That's far from surprising, coming from him." I sighted the bar we were supposed to go to, but the parking situation was a nightmare. "Adam, you could probably drop us at the curb, and I'll call you when we're done."

Adam, Axel's personal driver, was a genius with short-cuts and navigating busy streets, but he loathed parking and waiting. He'd been such a tremendous support to me, but whenever I tried to tip him, he refused. A silent man, he was, which I appreciated.

"Right on, ma'am."

I cringed; I'd asked him many times to stop calling me ma'am, but he couldn't help himself.

Chi and I exited the car and marched into the high-rise building atop which the bar was located. "A personal driver, hm?"

I shrugged, waving at the security guard, after giving him our names. "It's easier to get around. With all the shit Axel has me doing..."

"Shit, that's not him, you mean. Since you're not doing him—"

I clapped a hand over Chi's mouth. "Watch it!" We entered the elevator and pressed the top floor. "There's already enough suspicion going around."

"Suspicion?" Chi arched an eyebrow, smirking at me. "Who else knows?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Nothing to smile about, my friend."

I hadn't told Chi much lately and hadn't assigned them to many responsibilities for this wedding. They were my assistant, but I wanted them to represent me at the firm, instead of following me around for Axel's inane tasks. This one—visiting the bar and interviewing the bartender—they'd insisted upon as it was a renowned location they'd been wanting to go to for a long time.

I didn't refuse, tired as I was. There was so much to do, and I could use their sharpness and their social skills.

"We're not one hundred percent sure that she knows, but we have a feeling," I said, focused on the floor numbers as we passed them. "Estelle."

Chi's jaw dropped. "One of the brides? The sister? Oh, fuck."

"Yeah, oh fuck." I shuddered. "She was already looking at me weird in St. Tropez, and then the night of the engagement party, she...uh...well the way she glanced between Axel and I seemed to imply..."

"That she knew." Chi nodded, sucking their lips in. "You two were kind of eye-fucking each other that night."

I smacked their arm. "We were not."

"Oh, you were." They frowned, yet I detected amusement in their expression. "I don't think anyone else noticed, because they didn't know to look. They'd never suspect an affair between you two. But me? I know, and I saw it. And someone as astute as Estelle Levine...she absolutely saw it, too."

"That night," I gulped, "he snuck into the bathroom while I showered."

Chi pressed a hand to their chest, eyes widening on me. "Yeah, you implied something happened, but sneaking in? You did not tell me this. He fucked you the night of the engagement party? You said tongues!"

We were alone in the elevator, but still I shushed them, as if the mirrored walls would absorb our conversation and repeat it to the wrong people. "He didn't fuck me, no. He did tongue stuff, like I said." I absentmindedly touched the strap of my purse as I reimagined the steamy scene. "The fucking was the day before, on his couch."

"On his couch?" Chi's mouth opened so wide, I saw the back of their throat. "Jeez, talk about taking risks. I was supposed to help stop you. If you don't tell me anything, how can I?"

My face flushed. "I was...embarrassed. We can't be in the same room alone together, that much is clear. But he's paying us, and I'm organizing it, and it seems...inevitable."

Chi wrapped their arm around mine, squeezing. "That's why I'm here, babe. Utilize me, okay? Send me on the errand runs that involve him, yeah?"

I offered them a small smile, thankful; but it wouldn't work. Axel always requested me, and only me, for most of his tasks. But Chi didn't need to know that now. I'd take their comfort, let it soothe me momentarily, before I was on to the next errand.

The interview went well, and I forwarded all my comments to Estelle as Chi and I parted ways. They were off to visit a brand-new shoe store that Mollie had heard great things about. I needed to go home and change before an important meeting with Axel's hotel manager; not Axel, thank goodness. He was slammed at work and wouldn't make it.

I was deep in a text to Chi to remind them of some of the last-minute questions Mollie had sent me, climbing up the hallway stairs to my apartment, when I noticed someone standing in front of my door.

I froze. No one came to my studio. No one knew where I lived, save for Chi, and Axel, though he'd never gotten out of the car.

For a second I thought it might be Axel, actually. But when the person turned to face me, I held my breath, recognizing instead a feminine figure with dyed hair and sharp, hazel eyes pointed like daggers at me.

"Estelle?" I sent my text and slipped my phone into my purse. "Hi?"

She acknowledged me with a quick nod and folded her arms. "You busy?"

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Uh, yeah, quite a bit." I wouldn't tell her she was the reason I was so busy, and that her brother loved to send me on frantic races across the city. "Why, what's up?"

She moved aside to allow me to unlock my door, but left me little space to move or breathe. "Could you make some time for me?" Her voice was curt, more so than I'd ever heard it. "Because we need to talk."

Uh oh.

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