Good Girl(59)

"Well, I was impersonating my identical twin sister. Who was employed with the company in the tour division."

"Oh."

"Jennings was on vacation with his nan and ended up on my tour. Well, my sister's tour."

"Uh huh."

"Then it became this Undercover Boss sort of thing," she says, waving her free hand around. The other is holding a wine glass. "Because he never told me he owned the company."

"Right." I wonder if this is a real story or some kind of weird initiation? She doesn't appear to be in the least drunk, so it can't be that.

"But we worked it out," she finishes with a big smile. "So how did you and Rhys meet?"

"Um, in a bar." The normal way, I think to myself. Of course the whole virgin auction thing doesn't give me a whole lot of room to be a Judgey McJudgeypants. Then something else occurs to me. "Has Rhys heard this story?" Maybe he won't think what I did was so weird in comparison. It's not like I've impersonated anyone.

"Oh, I'm sure. They're very close. Hey, are those the LK Bennett Sledge pumps?"

"Um." I look down at my feet and then back to Violet. "I think so? I got them at LK Bennett when I bought the dress. I'm not sure which style they are."

"They're Princess Kate's favorite shoe," she tells me.

"Oh. Okay."

"Sorry, I'm a bit of an Anglophile."

"I guess having a British fiancé really works for you then, huh?"

"It does. It so does. Plus I get to listen to him speak in that sexy British accent whenever I want. Sometimes I ask him questions just to hear him speak. Last week I asked him to explain the history of the European Union to me. He went on for half an hour before he realized I just wanted to listen to him use words like ‘referendum’ and ‘organization.’"

I can't fault her logic.

Jennings comes back to retrieve Violet just as Payton slips up beside me, looking over her shoulder.

"Hey!" I pull her into a quick hug. "It's good to see you. Now tell me who you're avoiding."

"Vince."

"He's here?"

"He's freaking everywhere."

Huh.

"I think he's friends with Canon," I mention. "Canon probably invited him to the VIP event."

"Sure," she says quickly. Too quickly. "That's probably why he's here."

A waiter pauses in front of us with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. I shake my head no as Payton grabs some kind of mini puff pastry and shoves it into her mouth. Shoving food into her mouth is one of her favorite diversionary tactics. She must be wearing some of that magical lipstick that stays on for hours, because she manages to down it with nary a smudge.

"Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"Of course not." She waves her hand while shaking her head at the same time, but she won't look at me. "I'm taking care of it."

"Taking care of what?" I narrow my eyes in suspicion. Come to think of it, she's been acting a little bit shady ever since the auction. It was easy to miss until now because I've been living with Rhys and distracted with all the sexing stuff, but something is off.

"The thing. I'm going to fix it. It's just turning out to be a bit more complicated than one would think. And I didn't realize he'd be here tonight. I thought work was a safe zone but here he is." She's holding a glass of champagne and she takes a gulp and does another scan of the room then twists the glass in her fingers. Her blonde hair is pulled demurely into a updo and she's wearing a pale blush dress with three-quarter sleeves and a modest—for her—mid-thigh hemline. It makes her look like an innocent angel but that is a lie.

"What thing, Payton? What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'll tell you later," she adds when I give her a look implying I'm not buying anything she's selling. She looks past me and her eyes widen. "Listen, I've got to go. Love you! We'll talk later." She starts to edge past me without waiting for a reply but she's trapped between a waiter weighted down with a serving tray filled with champagne glasses and an actress taking a selfie with I don't know who. She spins, looking for another avenue of escape, when Vince stops directly in front of us.

He's dressed in a black suit with a perfectly pressed white shirt and he looks like a million dollars. More tall, dark and Italian than pseudo-pimp and confirmed strip club owner. He also looks pissed.

At Payton.

That much is clear because he's not looking at me, he's looking at her. Payton for her part is still attempting to find a pocket of space to slink away in.

"Mrs. Rossi,” he says. “Stop. Right. There."

Oh. Maybe he's not looking at Payton. Rossi, that's his last name. I didn't realize he was married. I turn my head to get a peek at his wife but no one is there. The actress and selfie-taker are gone. It's just Payton and the waiter and the waiter is already moving away. Payton snags a fresh glass of champagne from his tray at the last second and downs it in one long continuous gulp.

I look from Vince to Payton and back again.

Vince is still staring at Payton.

Payton glances at me and shrugs before her eyes dart over to Vince and then away.