Stone Cold Fox (37)

I’d just have to grant her wish and make that bitch a bridesmaid.





CHAPTER


    8



GALE WOULD CERTAINLY be thrown for a loop when I asked her to stand next to me as I married the love of her life. Good. I wanted her on defense moving forward. I could always survive in that role, but I thrived when on the offensive, and if there was ever a time to tap into such aggression, it was now. Throw my opponent off course. Be unpredictable. Don’t let her see me coming.

Certainly no one had ever asked Gale to be a bridesmaid before. Though, of course, I had never been a bridesmaid either, always destined to be a bride. Now I had to rise to the occasion. I had a good idea of what it all entailed considering modern society’s obsession with wedding culture. I knew that as a newly engaged woman it was expected that I would conduct some sort of “bridesmaid proposal” to between four and seven lucky girlfriends who would be at my beck and call, completely against their will, for the next nine to twelve months. Women always seemed to do this to each other. Stuck in a cycle of expected performance and for what? The sake of tradition? We all know what that means. Keep the women busy with all these silly little things. Keep them jealous of each other. Keep them in constant competition. And they don’t even know it.

But I knew it. So I’d work with it. Like I always did.

Chloe and Calliope would both be a given as sisters of the groom. I was actually grateful because it was an easy way to up my numbers when my prospects were slim due to my lack of friends. Collin wanted to have his whole bevy of bros by his side on our big day, but lucky for me, his mother thought anything more than four per side would be crass.

For my third, I decided to ask this horrid woman from spin class who thought we were friends because she followed me to get green juice after class a handful of times. Wren Daly was a fitness influencer—I know, shoot me—and a social climber targeting all of the new money circles. Basically, desperate for attention at all times. I figured she’d be entertaining to terrorize with all the over-the-top finery that would surround a Case family bride like me. Another cheap thrill, and I needed somebody who wasn’t already in the circle.

And the fourth slot would go to Gale Wallace-Leicester. Keep my enemy close. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when I popped the question. I knew she’d be perplexed, but excited, too. Surprised by my gall and filled with dread, but thrilled all the same. She really thought she could best me, but so what if she knew about Morris or Philip or Dan or any of my former conquests? So they all had money. So. What. We all have exes, for God’s sake. Collin would understand that. What else could she possibly have? Something about my early, ahem, entrepreneurial days in New York? No. There was no record of such a thing. Potential fabrications were the more likely culprit with Gale. I had to ensure that they wouldn’t be convincing. Call her integrity into question should any opportunity arise.

A small part of me entertained asking Syl to stand up with me, since I was genuinely starting to enjoy her company, but it seemed like too low of a bar, socially, and undeniably improper, as she was Collin’s assistant. Still, the thought was appealing if not altogether insane.

Once I sent my list over to Haven, and she approved it, she suggested an afternoon tea in Connecticut. I could ask everyone in person and we could begin the planning process as a unit. The whole thing sounded completely terrible, but I agreed because it was all part of the gig. Smile, girls! Parade yourselves around for others’ amusement. This is how things have always been done. Women supporting women. Please. We would all hate it and pretend we loved it. And the vicious cycle continues. The cursed event would take place the coming Saturday, which left me plenty of time to begin my personal and thorough investigation into Gale Wallace-Leicester.



* * *



? ? ?

MY RECONNAISSANCE INTO Gale was so important that I took a personal day from the agency, knowing that Gale would be at an office of her own. It had been some time since I engaged in old-fashioned breaking and entering. Online and digital were largely the way I conducted such business for the majority of my adult life under regular circumstances, but Gale was proving to be anything but regular, so I hopped back into the proverbial saddle, well-worn and comfortable no matter how many years it had been. Sometimes the old way is the only way. Mother would be amused. Maybe even proud.

After Collin left that morning for work, I rummaged through his closet, his nightstand and his desk in search of a spare key to Gale’s apartment. It sickened me that he would have one, but I knew it would be true. Collin was enthralled by an exchange of keys. He had asked for one of my keys when we were dating and I still lived with Morris. I had to come up with a whole story about a neurotic roommate who was uncomfortable with strangers, which wasn’t too far from the truth, but it was a bump in the road in our relationship. He was upset when I denied him, but in a good way. The way that left him wanting more.

Anyway, an exchange of keys meant something to Collin, and since Gale meant something to him, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I knew that a key to her place would be somewhere in our home. It didn’t take long to find a ring of unfamiliar keys, tucked away in a small drawer in the interior of his desk. They weren’t labeled, but were all I had to go on. If none of them worked, I wouldn’t be deterred. There’s a myriad of ways to discreetly break into a person’s home. I’d be rusty but competent enough to do what was necessary.