“I see.” I smile, happy to meet Ryder’s friend, even though a part of me is embarrassed and rattled that he saw me in a scene with Shaun. I shake myself. The situation wasn’t my fault. I have nothing to feel bad about. “Are you coming to the engagement party this weekend?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t get an invitation. I don’t think Ryder knows I’m in town, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. His number’s changed. I should probably just drop by his place sometime soon and say hello.”
Ryder changes phones like most people change their underwear, and the handful of people who have his current number would never reveal it to anyone. “That won’t do. What’s your name?”
“Anthony Blackwood.”
He hands me a business card. It has the Z logo on it, and underneath is the word Owner. “Wait. You’re the mysterious owner of Z?”
He laughs. “The one and only, although I can’t claim to be that mysterious. The club’s ownership has never been a secret.”
Except nobody’s ever seen him or anything. “It’s one of my favorite clubs,” I gush. “How come you’re never around?”
“As I said, I’ve been out of town. For the past three years or so at least.” He smiles. “I can’t even remember anymore. At any rate, we’ll have to make sure you get in for free next time at Z.” He glances at TJ, who nods once.
“Awesome. I’ll definitely make sure you’re on the guest list.” I put the card in my purse. “I’m sure Ryder would love to catch up with an old friend.”
“As would I. Thank you, Paige.”
TJ holds open the door to the restaurant for Anthony. Before following him in, TJ gives me a brief nod, and I wave. He’s a long-time bouncer at the club and we know each other a bit. Apparently he’s also Anthony’s personal bodyguard when he’s in town.
The door closes. I drop my hand.
Despite the fact that Anthony helped me out, I feel a little shadow has been cast over the day. Something about the man tells me he’s the last person you’d want as an enemy…and that just because he smiles at you, doesn’t mean he actually likes you.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ryder
I stare at the thick, fancy white folder on my desk. I don’t know why the wedding planner wants to talk to me. Again. I know it’s not to hit on me. I hired Nancy Yost because she’s damn good at her job and a grandmother three times over.
“It’s nice, but I honestly don’t care. Just as long as Paige’s happy,” I say.
“If so, you would’ve gone for a small, modest wedding, which is what she told me she wanted,” the planner says. “If we want a cake like this, we need to order now.”
The photo she’s gesturing at shows an intricate tiered tower with Rococo-style decorations and winding stairs. It looked more like a miniature cathedral than a cake.
“It’s four feet tall,” she continues. “I think it’s just the thing, don’t you?”
> “If the frosting is pink or something that Paige likes.”
“Of course I’ll make sure the color is what she likes.”
“Then do it.” I wave her away when a text arrives on my phone. It’s from Samantha. “Don’t bother me with details. I told you it has to be the grandest thing people have seen.”
“I have only a month! Not even that much time now.”
“That’s why you make the big bucks.” I give her my most charming smile. Amazingly, it doesn’t really work.
Her thin mouth tight, she leaves. Well, three grandsons have probably eroded her susceptibility to charming smiles.
I check the text.
Your fiancée and her lawyer agree to everything, except the alimony clause. Want to change it to 20 mil after two years of marriage. I don’t like it.
I read it again just to make sure.
It’s fine. Give them what they want, I text back.