Nine

NINE

T he bride and groom were not hard to find. They were a block down at the Frenchman's Daughter, a gastropub that served, the sign boasted, amazing food and drink. The entrance was several steps above street level, and the hostess who greeted us explained that back in the day, the roads would flood all the time, so all the businesses downtown had steps that led up from the street.

"Food and history," Ash said, smiling at her. "I love this."

The wedding party was excited to finally get to meet and spend time with Ash. He wanted me to sit with him between Bitsy and Orson, but I wasn't about to do that. Bitsy's best friend, Charlene, the maid of honor, said I could have her lap, and the slow wink was adorable, but I wasn't doing that either.

Sienna motioned to me. "Cooper, sit here by me."

She was on the side of the picnic-style table close to the fireplace, next to another blonde who could have modeled right along with her. She took hold of my wrist and smiled up at me, seeming very pleased to see me. I slid onto the bench beside her, and she beamed at me, leaning in close for a moment before straightening up. Honestly, she really was lovely.

"Cooper, what can we get you to drink?"

"What did you guys get?"

"A pitcher of white sangria," she said excitedly.

"Sounds great."

"You see," the woman beside Sienna said, leaning around her to offer me her hand. "Gay men don't worry that what they drink will somehow emasculate them. I love that."

"And you are?"

"I'm Jacqueline, but call me Jackie. It's lovely to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine," I assured her, smiling, taking her perfectly manicured hand in mine.

"So gorgeous," she said to Sienna.

"And funny, and kind," Sienna replied, putting her arm around my shoulders. "I knew we were going to be a bonded pair the moment we met."

I nodded, and she then introduced me to Jennifer, who was sitting across from me, and Bentley, who was across from Sienna. The men, seated at the other end of the table, showed no interest in me—one of them, whom I saw when he brought a pitcher of beer, being Damien.

"Oh, here's our sangria." Bentley was very excited by the large pitcher that was put down on our end, with beautiful cobalt-blue glasses for all of us.

"Am I taking someone's spot here?" I asked Sienna as Jackie immediately started pouring. A huge charcuterie board arrived next on our end, while the guys had beer, cheese, and a pretzel with sliced brats. It was interesting how everything was divvied up.

"You're not," Sienna told me. "Anna and Tate?—"

"They're getting married next," Jennifer apprised me. "And guess where? At the Hotel du Cap-Eden-Roc on the French Riviera in August. It will be sublime."

"Wow, that sounds fancy," I said, having no idea if it was or not, other than the way she had announced it. "Are you all going?"

"Yes, and I can't wait," Jennifer gushed.

It was fun watching all the men passing by the table and smiling at me. They were very impressed that I was surrounded by such beauty. It was like sitting in a magical garden.

"What's with the face?" Jennifer asked suddenly, and I saw her looking at Jackie, who was biting her pillowy bottom lip.

"Uh-oh." I grinned at her. "Come on, Jackie, dish the dirt. Have Anna and Tate hit a little bit of a rough patch?"

All the women looked at her, and Bentley even stopped pouring.

"They'll be fine." Sienna made that pronouncement, then glanced around the table. "It's just a little blip."

No one said a word.

"So Anna should be sitting where I am."

"Technically," Sienna agreed.

"What happened?"

She made a face.

"Yeah, what Cooper said," Jennifer snapped. "Spill, Seni, because clearly Jackie knows."

After a moment, Sienna leaned forward, and we all followed her lead.

"So apparently, Tate and his parents want to tweak Anna's prenup just a bit, but Anna's not budging."

"Why should Anna budge?" Bentley asked, going back to pouring sangria. "It's not like she's some poor college student on a scholarship anymore. She owns the Farraday art gallery in Chelsea, and anyone who shows their work there is guaranteed to sell everything because people who collect art trust Anna."

"I'm not saying she should budge, but a million dollars per child seems like a lot."

Bentley passed me my glass, and I took a sip. "Oh, that's good."

"Right?" She smiled as our eyes met.

"Bentley," I said, "please tell me what a million dollars per child means."

"I was going to ask that myself, thank you," Bentley said, looking at Sienna.

"It means that if they get a divorce, for every kid Anna popped out, she gets paid a million dollars," Sienna explained. "Also, she gets half a million for every year they're married, with a cap of ten."

"Holy crap." I chuckled. "Plus child support and alimony?"

Sienna nodded.

"That's a lot."

"Yes, but Tate Montgomery the Third's family can afford it."

"Gotcha."

"And Campbell Covington even more than that," Jackie simpered, lifting her left hand to show me her engagement ring.

"Wow," I said, admiring the emerald-cut diamond solitaire ring in platinum. It was enormous. "This is gorgeous."

"Thank you," she nearly purred. "We're planning on Luttrellstown Castle near Dublin, Ireland."

"It sounds beautiful," I said, as I had earlier about the place in France. I had no idea about wedding venues. "I'm sure it will be like a fairy tale."

Jackie's eyes were so warm when she looked at me. "I'm so enjoying talking to you and knowing that you're actually happy for me and not jealous even one bit."

"Oh, shove it up your ass, Jackie," Sienna groused at her. "You're being a bitch."

I stood up then and switched places with Sienna.

"You're saving her life," Sienna muttered under her breath.

I took the seat between them, and instantly, Jackie leaned her head on my shoulder.

Jennifer grimaced. "The problem is, even though Sienna and Damien say they're engaged, there's no ring."

"Shut up, Jen," Sienna replied, but I noted the lack of vehemence.

"Mine's not as big as Jackie's," Bentley stated, holding up her gorgeous princess-cut solitaire diamond ring that was smaller yet lovely nonetheless. "But I love it."

"And who're you marrying?"

"Gordon Arison," she told me proudly. "He's the guy with the brown hair over there playing darts."

As he was playing with two blonds, he was easy to pick out. She called his name and waved happily. He returned the wave tepidly, then went back to drinking beer and laughing with his friends.

"My turn," Jennifer said, holding out her hand for me.

Hers was a halo setting, which my sister Celeste had, and even though Jennifer's was much bigger than my sister's, knowing exactly how Hector Rojas felt about Celeste made her ring far more beautiful. And maybe Jennifer's guy was wild about her too. I hoped so.

"Oh, look at this thing sparkle," I whispered. "And it's so elegant. Who is your lucky guy, Jennifer? Point him out."

Calvin Kenneally was standing by another fireplace in the game room, talking to Kim, the woman who'd sat in Ash's lap the night before.

I squinted at them, then turned to Jennifer. "Sweetie, Kim pissed me off last night and—" I turned to look at Ash, and found him smiling at me. "Hey, you, did you eat something?"

"I'm snacking, but I would like to talk to you."

"One sec," I told him. "I need Bitsy."

"Oh," she said, giggling. "Yes, sir, what may I do for you?"

I pointed to Kim. "We're not crazy about Kim, are we?"

"No," she agreed, and her eyes narrowed before her attention went to Jennifer. "My cousin is a whore, Jen. Get over there."

"He would never," Jennifer told her. "And I trust him."

"Which is great, and good," I told her. "But maybe because Calvin is a really nice guy, he's stuck, and he can't get away."

"Ohmygod, she plopped herself down in Ash's lap last night. I was so embarrassed," Bitsy told her.

Ash only smiled and took that opportunity to get up, carrying his drink and a roll, and came to sit across from me, beside Jennifer.

"It's a beautiful ring," he told her.

"I have seen Love is Complicated so many times. I could do dialogue with you."

His smile lit his eyes, and really, there wasn't anyone or anything in the room as breathtaking as him. He outshone every diamond around him. "Oh, I'm so glad you love it."

"Promise me you won't leave before I get back."

"Cross my heart. Can I have some of the cheese?"

"Yes. Eat whatever you want," she told him, and was out of her seat and moving gracefully but quickly across the floor.

The waitress, Tori, was suddenly at our table because Ashford Lennox was and she wanted to see him as much as everyone else.

"Please bring me a very big sandwich," he told her.

"What kind of sandwich, Mr. Lennox?" she asked hesitantly.

"Do you have a favorite?"

"The one I like has head cheese and blood sausage. I'm thinking that's not for you."

He turned to me.

"Roast beef?" I asked her, and she nodded. "Great. Would you make that for me, and please bring a French dip for him."

"Yes," she said happily, turning back to Ash. "I will have that right out, Mr. Lennox."

"Thank you."

Tori was beaming at him. "We have hand-cut fries too. I'll add those as well."

"You're a very good person," he declared. "I think we should take a picture."

The way her face lit up, I couldn't help but smile as well. I loved that he could instantly bring that much joy. He was one of those celebrities you felt like you knew from his movies and socials, and you hoped like crazy that if you ever met him in real life, he would not disappoint and actually be warm, engaging, and kind. I knew from looking at Tori that he had exceeded all her expectations.

Once she left, he met Bentley, who offered him sangria, Jackie, who immediately showed him what Campbell Covington had bought her, and finally he got reacquainted with Sienna.

"Nice to see you again," he greeted her.

"I'm thrilled to tell you that I have been a fan since the beginning. You had me with Blood Tracks ."

"That's very kind."

"I know you probably hate taking pictures with?—"

"No, I love it," he said with a grin. "Let me come over there."

He took several with Sienna, Bentley, and Jackie, and when Jennifer returned with her fiancé in tow, he took pictures with them as well. Cunningly, when we all retook our seats, Ash somehow ended up next to me. He sat with his knee pressing against mine, and was gracious, and charming, and everyone was spellbound. His stories had all of us riveted because he was talking about other celebrities, huge stars who were his friends, like it was all so normal. Like they were our friends as well as his. I listened to him talk about Daniella Russo and Evan Brandt—whom I'd had very unclean thoughts about when I saw him for the first time on the weekly show Cape Cod , then all the way through his newest movie, Amalfi , which had gone completely over my head.

"Two years ago, Ev and I are in the diamond district in New York City, learning, watching, memorizing what the brokers say and how they present things, when all of a sudden, I turn around and Ev is showing a customer an antique ring that was worth around two hundred thousand dollars."

I smiled, listening.

"Oh," Sienna gasped, "you guys were doing research for?—"

" Glass Diamond ," Damien said, taking a seat across from Ash at the table, where people were now gathering. "That was a great movie."

Ash nodded. "Thank you."

"Finish the story," I urged him, sliding my hand over his thigh under the table.

"Well, the jeweler, he thinks it's only fair to give Ev the commission on the sale of the ring, and Ev, he turns around and tells the jeweler to give the money to his favorite charity," Ash said, chuckling. "I mean, it was great to see that sale happen in real time because it perfectly illustrated that a charming, handsome man, using all the right words, can sell anything."

Everyone around us clapped, and were even more excited when the food started coming out. Lots of servers delivering plate after plate, having to call out orders as so many people had played musical chairs on them.

"We didn't really get a chance to talk yesterday," Damien told Ash as they both got their food. "Sorry about that."

"No worries," Ash replied kindly.

"So how are you two related?" Sienna asked.

"I certainly have no idea," Ash told her. "Perhaps your fiancé knows."

It was kind of Ash to remember to call Damien that. Thoughtful. And whether he remembered it from the night before, or he'd overheard the earlier conversation at our table—it was good of him. I did wonder why Damien had yet to bestow a ring on the winsome Sienna Donahue. I had no idea what he was waiting for. She was perfect for him.

"My grandfather was Coleman Walder," Damien began, his gaze flat as he regarded Ash. "My grandmother, Juliet, was his second wife, and my mother was their third child, Margo."

"You're his uncle," I said to Ash, "just like you are Bitsy's."

"It feels like I should be older, doesn't it?" he asked, grinning.

"And more venerable," I teased him. "With a pipe."

"Oh, a pipe. Yes."

I leaned sideways and kissed him, and he smiled like crazy.

"Our family is so big because Grandpa couldn't stop marrying or having children," Bitsy said. "It's nuts."

"It certainly is," Damien agreed, sounding irritated over that fact.

There was a lot of silence then as people started eating.

"The French dip was an inspired choice," Ash murmured between bites, having to touch me, fiddling with the collar of my sweater. I was reminded, in a flash of memory, that Damien hated this sweater. He always had suggestions about updating my wardrobe. With hindsight came so much clarity, and I had to wonder what it was he'd liked about me.

It certainly wasn't my small, cozy house in Highland Park, given all the time we spent at his condo in the city. He never met my family or friends, so they had not been the draw, and it certainly wasn't my very sensible 2013 Toyota Highlander. But he'd stuck it out for over a year, so he must've had a reason.

As I glanced over at him, I realized that even the twinge from the day before was gone. And it wasn't simply me being excited about starting something with Ash that had taken the very last drop of care about Damien. Or more correctly, it wasn't just that. It was seeing his treatment of Sienna. She had no ring, just as he'd never met any of the people who inhabited my life. To my mind, it was the same thing. He didn't want to commit. Not to me then, and now, not to her. Sitting there, in his proximity again, the longer I looked at him, the more I understood. He felt in his profession that he could not rise to the heights of money and power with a man at his side. The law was traditional, I knew that. Perhaps he was right. Even in places like New York or Chicago, maybe being out, being bisexual, would stop him from getting where he wanted to go. It was possible. Having no understanding of his world, I couldn't say with any certainty. With Sienna, perhaps he felt there was someone better. A person who would bring with her better connections, more money, be an even better advocate for his upward climb than the socialite now eating a vegan patty melt that looked pretty good. I couldn't imagine a better partner than Sienna—she looked like the whole package to me. Smart, funny, and beautiful was a winning combination.

"Do you have a question?" Damien asked stiffly, his gaze on me.

"Oh, no, sorry," I said, smiling. "My mind drifted. I apologize."

He nodded and went back to his Reuben as my phone, which I'd put on the table, went off with a picture of Rais Solano, one of the guys I worked with.

"Wow," Ash said, grinning. "Who's that?"

I squinted at him. "I'm sorry?"

He picked up my phone and turned it to Sienna. "Look at this man."

She coughed and then swallowed the bite she'd been chewing. "Oh yeah," she said with a chuckle, smiling sheepishly. "I—what's his… How do you pronounce his first name?"

"None of your business," I growled, and everyone laughed but Damien.

"Let me see the—oh," Bentley whispered.

Snatching my phone back from Ash, I got up and walked away from the noisy table before I answered. "What?"

"That's a very charming greeting there, Mr. Davis, and hello to you too, ya dick."

I grunted.

"Do you want me to blow up your email with files, or do you want a quick rundown?"

"I thought you were hunting down some bounty hunter and that's why you couldn't come on this job."

"Yeah, well, turned out he was in Vegas with the woman, and because I hate the desert, I called Croy and had him find them for me. He and that partner of his took all of a day to make that happen. Both are now in the custody of the US Marshals, so our job is done."

"How nice for you to have minions."

"It is nice," he agreed with a chuckle.

"So you're back in the office?"

"Yeah. Me and Shaw are getting everything from law enforcement on your Elliot Voss/Kit Riggs situation, and Owen has been sending information. He and Nash are flying to LA to meet with Preeya Shah, but the Wi-Fi has been weird on the plane, so I'm playing middleman. Owen can get me, but he can't get you."

My heart stopped for a moment, terrified of why Owen and Nash felt the need to turn Jared's private jet not for home, not toward Chicago, but Los Angeles.

"Okay," I managed to get out after a moment. "Tell me."

"Do you wanna know about Shah or Riggs?"

I knew what I should have said, but I couldn't. "Shah."

Sharp exhale from him. "Okay, so Owen talked to Preeya Shah, and according to him, she is both absolutely charming and terribly scary, and we all know how much he likes that combination."

That was Jared Colter in a nutshell. "Yes, we do," I agreed, and suddenly, even without hearing more, I felt better, the vise around my heart loosening.

"It turns out there's nothing for Owen to get into with finding any photographic or video evidence of this guy Furniss spying on Mr. Lennox."

"Why?"

"Because as soon as Mr. Lennox called to tell her what happened, she took it upon herself to go talk to Mr. Furniss."

"And by talk, you mean…?"

"Threaten him and gain access to every part of his life."

Jesus. "How?"

"She asked him nicely."

"Oh, the hell she did."

"I don't know. I looked her up, and she's, like, five feet three. A teeny-tiny woman. She's beautiful, delicate, and doesn't look like she could scare anyone."

"But?"

"But I haven't met her in person, so I don't know if she's menacing face-to-face. All I know is what Owen told me and that Furniss gave her access to everything. His cloud, all his files, digital and paper, and even his safety-deposit box at the bank and his secret safety-deposit box that he keeps under his aunt's name."

"Why would he do that?"

"Have a secret box, or give her access to it?"

"The access, of course."

"Probably because she asked."

"That's crazy."

"I guess he knows her and didn't want her mad at him, and more importantly, didn't want her to come back for a second visit."

"Huh."

"That's what I said."

"What else?"

"She tossed his place, checked his email, his messaging apps, borrowed his laptop, went through everything there, and then had her tech guy—who just so happens to be a friend of Owen's—go through the laptop again just to make sure she didn't miss anything."

I liked Preeya Shah so very much. Easy to see from her tenacity and how thorough she was that she cared deeply for Ash.

"And? Did she find anything?"

"She did. She found one explicit video, but that was all. There were hundreds of pictures, but they all looked like they could have been in a regular magazine. Nothing NSFW at all."

I exhaled deeply. "That's good. And she's sure she didn't miss anything?"

"More important than her being sure—because we don't know her or how she works—is that Owen is. Not only did she ID the other person in the video, and check him out thoroughly, but she had another friend of hers track down all Furniss's purchases on the dark web because she was worried there might have been something there, but no."

"Okay, good," I said, feeling like a weight lifted. "And what did she do with the video?"

"She deleted all trace of it and made sure Furniss didn't send it anywhere."

"That's good."

"Furniss actually just moved to Paris last week. He has a job there now, guarding a family, and he lives in their house."

"Okay…"

"When Owen spoke to her this morning, she explained that she had just returned from Paris the day before, having flown there to have a final word with Furniss."

"You're kidding."

"I am not. From what she told Owen, she just wanted to make her position clear on Mr. Lennox to Mr. Furniss so there could be no misunderstanding."

"Who is she?"

"Owen thinks there's more to her than what he can see, but when he looked her up, all that comes back is owner of Bridge Security, mother of Kochai, who's five, and Drew, who's three, and wife to Evan Shah, a mild-mannered CPA."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so why are Owen and Nash on their way to see her?"

"Because Owen was so impressed, he wants to talk to her about becoming a contractor for Torus."

"She's not gonna want to?—"

"She agreed to talk when Owen said who he worked for."

"So basically, he said Jared Colter and she said yes, absolutely, let's chat."

"Yep."

"I don't even—whatever. All I care about is?—"

"That she made sure Furniss could never hurt Ashford Lennox."

"Yes," I admitted. "I was worried."

"Well, she was too, going by all she did. The word is that she never liked Furniss, but your man, she told Owen, is too nice for his own good."

"Agreed."

"But she has a new person for him who will meet him on his movie set after he leaves the wedding."

"That I knew."

"This Bridget Carran sounds great. I'd like to meet her."

I groaned.

"What's with that?"

"Don't be you."

"Why is that bad?"

"Never mind."

He cleared his throat. "I heard you didn't want to go and guard the actor at the wedding he's attending."

"I plead the fifth."

"Still feel that way?" he goaded me.

Clearly not. My whole life had changed in the span of one amazing day.

"Coop?"

"I am not upset, no. The opposite is true."

"I thought so," he replied, sounding a bit patronizing.

"Though when you called just now, my phone was passed around the table before I could answer it, so I think perhaps he might have preferred you."

He chuckled. "I would love to be friends with a movie star, and I think he's a great actor, so that would be a bonus. But Nash said the job is over already since he and Owen found you and Ash "—he drew out his name—"in bed this morning, which is another reason for the call."

"Which is?"

"Do you want me there to protect your new man so you can just be the boyfriend, or do you think you're good?"

"Boyfriend? Really?"

"Fine. Lover."

I groaned.

"Dude, whatever. Your man. Do you want me there or not?"

"The only threat to Ash that I can possibly think of is Elliot Voss, and if he's smart, he left the country already."

"And speaking of…"

"Yeah, tell me."

"Kit Riggs is dead—we have confirmation on that. The Feds notified his family, so that'll hit the news cycle probably late this evening. I'm so sorry, Coop. Please give our condolences to Ash."

"I will. Can you tell me how the ID was confirmed?"

"It turns out, Kit Riggs had titanium screws in his left knee from a childhood boating accident, and they recovered those."

"What about the writers? Any word on them?"

"No. The Feds are hoping that when they catch up with Voss, they can get him to tell them where their bodies are."

"So the manhunt is on?"

"Yep, and that too will hit the news shortly. They'll start with the announcement of Riggs's death, then move on to Voss. You should talk to Ash before it comes up on his news feed or in his socials."

"Yeah, okay."

"If anything gets weird there…"

"Oh, come on, you really think Voss is going to show up here to kill Ash? That makes zero sense. Everyone knows it was Riggs in his car now, not him."

"True, but if Riggs mentioned to Voss his meeting with Ash, Voss might infer, and rightly so, that because of Ash, the Feds know he isn't dead. If I were stuck in the US now with no way to get out because everyone was looking for me, I might just go put a bullet in the head of the guy who made that happen before I spend the rest of my life in prison."

"But wouldn't he be looking for Ash in LA or on the set of the movie he's making in Turks and Caicos?"

"No," Rais said indulgently. "I'd be looking for him at Bitsy Walder's wedding in Castine, Maine, because there's a hundred thousand pictures on social media of him being there."

"Shit."

"Yeah. But I have to tell you, you look much better than usual."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"I mean, there are a lot of pictures of you looking very intimate with Mr. Lennox, and he can't seem to keep his hands off you."

"It's terrible. It's a real hardship for me."

His laugh, as always, was good. "Well, regardless, for once you don't look like you're posing for a mugshot. You look happy, and apparently, when you're happy, you're not horrible-looking."

"That's charming, thank you."

"I just mean, normally, you don't photograph well. In person, I wouldn't go so far as to say that you're handsome, but I could see you getting laid."

"This is just getting worse, are you aware?"

"But in these pics, the grin is good, your eyes don't look dead, and the only thing I can think of that it can be is that you like Ashford Lennox just a bit."

I grunted.

"Don't move to LA, though. You're not gonna thrive there. Believe me, I lived there. You need seasons."

"Fuck off. I live in Chicago. My family is there, my douchebag friends are there?—"

"Hey—"

"My job is there…but it's fine. We have a plan already, so we're good."

"You have a plan already…well."

"Just, I need to talk to Ash."

"Call me if you need me."

"I will. Thanks, Rais."

"Always," he said, and hung up.

Pocketing my phone, I turned and found myself face-to-face with Damien Morrow. Funny how inevitable things always sneaked up on you.