Take Two (The Jilted Bride #1)(10)

The rest of my belongings were lined against the bay window on the far end of the room. One of my charm bracelets, the last one Sean and I made together, was lying on the floor. I scooped it up and rubbed each of the charms: plane, film reel, pizza slice, fountain pen, and a baby bottle.

I once told Sean that when the time came, we could turn my office into a nursery. I told him how I saw us painting the room together, traveling to Europe to find new photographs, and buying only the best baby furniture. I remembered him laughing as I told him this, smiling at the thought of our future together.

“Would you like some wine?” blonde bitch asked.

WHAT?

“No thank you. I’m just going to get started if you don’t mind.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something more, but she nodded her head and walked away.

The nerve.

I pulled out a duffle bag and stuffed it with dresses and shoes. I stacked everything else in the center of the room and made a list of what I was leaving for Sophie to retrieve tomorrow.

After an hour of organizing, I pulled the duffle bag over my shoulder and walked down the hallway. I spotted blonde bitch reading a book in the kitchen.

“Woman to woman,” I dropped the duffle bag onto the floor. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?” she looked up at me.

“Did you sleep with my fiancé before my wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know that he was engaged?” my voice cracked.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t see a problem with that?”

“Of course I did. But I just knew that he and I—”

I raised my hand. “I just needed to know how little of my respect you deserved.”

I picked up the duffle bag and headed outside to hail a cab.

Chapter 6

Matt

The interview with GQ was more entertaining than I thought it would be. The interviewer didn’t act like he knew me personally and actually inquired about things that mattered to me: philanthropy, dancing, and fine dining.

Only one of his questions bothered me: “You’re highly successful, you’ve clearly found love, and are surrounded by people who care about you. If you died today, will you have accomplished all you wanted in life?”

I gave some bullshit response, but I knew that the real answer was no.

I’d spent the past two years committed to someone I could barely stand. I spent the past four acting in films that could’ve been written by a group of high school girls. I surrounded myself with people who said “yes,” to everything I asked, and as far as the “clearly found love” part? At twenty seven? I severely doubted that.

After the interview, I kept on my Tom Ford suit and had my driver take me to the building that housed The New York Appeal.

The ashen black building towered over every business on the block. It didn’t look like the type of building where creative people worked. Then again, Melody Carter worked there.

“M-M-Matt Sterling?” the receptionist greeted me.

“That’s me,” I flashed my smile. “I have a meeting with Melody Carter this afternoon. Is she still available?”

“A meeting with Melody Carter?” she tilted her head to the side.

Has no one ever seen this woman?

“Yes. Melody Carter,” I enunciated each syllable.

“Hold on one second Mr. Sterling,” she picked up her phone. “Hello Sophie? This is reception down on the main floor. Does your boss have any meetings scheduled for this afternoon? Okay…I see. Sir, Miss Carter doesn’t have any meetings scheduled for the rest of the month.”

Damnit.

“Well, it’s clearly a misunderstanding on my part. Is there any way I could go up there and say hello anyway?”

“Not without a meeting. I’m sorry. All guests have to be personally escorted to the 30th floor.”

“Look,” I eyed her name plate. “Miss Hamilton is it?”

She blushed. “Yes.”

“Thank you for being so accommodating. Is there anything I could sign for you, anything you want me to autograph?”

“Umm my T-shirt?” she pulled a white T-shirt from underneath her desk and handed it to me.

“Okay,” I signed her shirt, and as she admired it I tried again. “So there’s no way I could—”

“Nope.”

“Not even if I—”

“Nope,” she answered a ringing phone.

I gave her a curt goodbye and walked outside. Joan and my driver were waiting across the street, but I didn’t want to give up just yet. I turned around and saw a paint crew walking around the side of the building. I followed them.

“Hey you!” a large man called out. “You mind holding the door for us?”

“Not at all,” I sprinted ahead of them and held the metal door open. After the last of the men entered, I walked around until I found the service elevator. I punched thirty.

When the elevator finally reached the floor, I felt as if I’d landed inside a time capsule. Newspaper clippings, vintage Hollywood posters, movie tickets, and awards covered every inch of the walls.

I crept past two huge conference rooms, a kitchen, and found myself in a semi-circle of closed white doors. There was no way to tell which office belonged to whom.