The Billionaire's Forgotten Fiancée

Or was it just that particular dream? Jesus, it had felt real! He could still smell Ginger’s blood.

He breathed through his mouth. She’d been cut every time he touched her or said her name. Even his panic-scrambled brain could pick that up.

He dug the heels of his palms against his eyes. It was just a stupid dream. It didn’t mean anything.

Chapter Seventeen

Ginger didn’t go back to Shane’s penthouse after she finished the dim sum with Debbie. Instead she’d gone to her apartment to give herself some time to process everything that had happened.

How the discovery of the photos had changed so many things so fast…and so irrevocably. She’d been convinced that even though Shane didn’t remember everything—and the issue of what had made him leave in the first place hadn’t been resolved—they might be able to make their relationship work. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

The pictures established a pattern. They were clearly the reason Shane had left her the first time. And he had run off again when Dane had told him about her ex-boyfriend. Apparently, all it took for him to hightail it was an insinuation that she might not be faithful.

Would she be asked to pay for the sins of his parents forever? She’d always been true to Shane, always been extra careful not to give the wrong impression because she was aware of his background.

But one set of photos had destroyed everything.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the painful twist in her heart, and clenched her jaw. What if there hadn’t been just one set? What if there had been more, and the ones she was holding were just the final straw?

No way to tell, but there was one thing she knew for sure—if he didn’t trust her, she couldn’t continue to be with him. Her word should be able to trump even “evidence” like this, no matter how perfectly photoshopped.

Her phone rang. Before Ginger could say hello, Debbie squealed. “Daddy said yes!”

Ginger sat up. “Really?”

“Yup. He said, ‘That’s horrible. I like Ginger.’” Debbie giggled. “I think he likes you because he thinks you’re a calming influence on me. Anyway, he sent me information for the family investigator. I’ll forward it to your email so you can contact him yourself. Apparently he’s very good and very discreet. Also, no connection to the Pryce family. I checked.”

“Oh my god, thank you!”

“Keep me posted!” Debbie hung up.

Soon, a message popped up in Ginger’s inbox with a name, number and email address. No other info.

Ginger typed out a short memo to the investigator, scanning and attaching copies of the pictures and envelope. She was just about to click SEND when she hesitated. If I find out who it is, then what? She’d been furious earlier and wanted whoever it was to pay. But now that she’d had some time to process the situation, she wasn’t so sure. She could probably deal with a random stalker, but what if it was somebody closer?

Ceinlys, for example, had always thought Shane could do better than Ginger.

A knot of pain formed at the base of Ginger’s neck. She stood up and stretched, rotating her neck around and massaging her shoulders.

It didn’t help.

She sat down again and closed her eyes. Whoever it is, the first thing is to know. She hit SEND and closed the laptop. It was done. She would just wait for the report.

* * *

Shane puffed out a breath as he stood outside Dane’s penthouse. The bastard was inside, but taking his sweet time answering the door.

A blonde finally opened it. She was in nothing but a silky red robe…which stuck out prominently in the chest area. “Hi?”

“Where’s Dane?”

“He’s, like, in the back? Should I get him?”

“Don’t bother.” Shane shouldered past her.

Dane’s place was professionally done with minimal personal touches. No family photos, no favorite books or movies. Just a large wall-mounted TV, recessed lights illuminating a collection of crystal figurines from Swarovski, and expensive furniture. It looked like a model home rather than a place somebody actually lived.

“Hey. Are you, like, barging in?”