“Fine. You win. You have my undying support and loyalty, Mother.”
“Good. The next time you see your father, tell him how much you approve of this marriage.”
“Done.”
“Good.”
Nick hung up and I touched his shoulder.
“She’s a nut job!” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “We’ll figure out a way around this.”
We started to talk about strategies and stuff we could do to get the flash drive back from out of her clutches.
I’d just about given up on finding a solution when Nick sat up suddenly, his eyes locked upon the far wall. My heart quickened just at the sight of it. I knew that look, because I’d seen it many times before. It was a look that meant one thing: trouble.
“What?” I was almost afraid to ask. “What are you thinking?”
“I have a plan so that I’ll never have to call her mother again. I’ll just call her evil stepmother.” The corners of his mouth curved up in a slow smile as his plan began to take shape. “When you think about it,” he began, “that flash drive is nothing more than leverage, a tangible bargaining chip she gets to hold over our heads, to pull out whenever she wants.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, so?”
“So... What if we have our own leverage?”
Suddenly, the publicist in me sprang to life, side by side with the girl who had grown up watching too many crime television shows. “Right! We could catch her in a compromising position and get some photos of our own, something she wouldn’t want Mitchell to see.”
Nick nodded in agreement, finishing my every thought. “He’ll call off the wedding, leave her.”
My face danced with excitement for only a second before the plan died in my eyes. “But how?” I shook my head, already defeated. “How in the world can we go about doing something like that? Maybe she won’t even cheat.”
Nick merely pulled out his phone and pressed a speed-dial number, wearing a little smirk. “Just leave that part to me, babe. I got this.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Oh, you will. I promise you will!”
* * *
Just two hours later, we were standing on the curb, watching the New York City traffic and wearing conspiratorial smiles, even though mine masked my overwhelming anxiety.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I asked for the millionth time. “I mean, we’re getting dangerously close to prostitution here.”
Nick squeezed my hand and offered a confident smile. “It’s totally fine. We’ve asked each other to do way worse things than this.”
There was a beat of silence before I looked up at him again. “Worse than prostitution?”
“Best not to dwell on semantics,” he advised, pointing into the sea of cars.
As if on cue, a black limousine separated from the rest of the pack and pulled up against the curb.
“Semantics will get you in trouble every time.”
The two of us watched as the door opened and James leapt onto the sidewalk, glancing up at the skyscrapers as he took a deep breath of the New York City air. He looked as out of place as a swimsuit model in the arctic. People stopped to stare as if one of the billboards had suddenly come to life, and their mouths dropped shamelessly open, but the captivating Englishman had time for none of them. The second he spotted Nick and me through the crowd, he made his way over, with that typical beaming smile on his face. “This is such a great idea!” he called as soon as we were within earshot. “I’ve always wanted to freefall from the Chrysler. I can’t believe you got a permit!”
The smile froze on my face as I hissed at Nick through my teeth. “You didn’t tell him?”
Nick kept a smile fixed on his face as well, beckoning his friend closer. “I may have lured him here under false pretenses.”