Here Comes the Bride (10 page)

Back in the bedroom, she noticed a picture on his nightstand—a black-and-white photo of a little boy and his parents. She’d read that Dominic’s father had a drinking problem and his mother ran off, abandoning them both. Although the boy in the picture was sandwiched between his parents, he looked sad. Seeing Dominic as a lonely child tugged at her heartstrings.

The clock sitting next to the framed picture read ten o’clock. It was Monday. Shoot! She was late for work.

An hour later, after dressing and eating scrambled eggs Maria had prepared for her, Sam paid the taxi driver and stepped onto the curb. She could see Washington Mutual and the headquarters for the
Los Angeles Times
. Also the Northridge Mall, a couple of theatres, and a cafe.

Since she still needed to get her things from her apartment, she’d had no choice but to wear the same skirt she’d worn to New York a little over a week ago. Smoothing out the wrinkles, she walked toward the drab gray building where she’d spent the last five years filing and answering phones.

Head held high, she walked through the lobby and the main office, past a maze of cubicles.

All eyes were on her.

She waved at John Benton, a senior editor, but he turned away, busying himself with invisible paperwork. She got the same response from the rest of the staff, including Kristin Jenkins, Kate Garrison, and Andriana Simpson. They wanted nothing to do with her. In their minds, she had betrayed them all.

Her boss, Mitzy Hart, a woman descended from a long line of hardcore newspaper legends, waved her inside her office. Mitzy had taken a lot of flak over the years for running what many considered to be a tabloid instead of a newspaper, but she didn’t care. Good or bad, Mitzy liked the attention. The
LA Beat
was hitting record sales and that’s all that mattered.

Mitzy crumpled a piece of paper in her hand and tossed it into the garbage. Then she gestured toward one of the leather chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

Sam didn’t like the look in Mitzy’s gray eyes. Her mouth, a tight red line, slashed across her face in a frown. Her elbows were propped on her desk and her fingers formed a steeple.

“Too busy to return my call, I see.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I left you a message. I’ve hardly had time to talk to my own moth—”

Mitzy raised her finger, stopping Sam mid-sentence. “I’ll be the one doing all of the talking today.”

Sam nodded.

“Jog my memory for me, will you?”

Sam nodded again.

“Very few reporters were allowed at DeMarco’s wedding, am I right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Did I send you to New York to do a story on Dominic DeMarco’s mystery bride, or did I not?”

“You did.”

“Are you aware that the
LA Beat
was the only paper across the country without a story on the DeMarco wedding?”

Sam swallowed. “I didn’t realize, but I can see how—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Mitzy said, hushing her once again. “The reporter I sent to New York to get the scoop on the mystery bride ends up
being
the bride. Do you have any idea how this reflected on my paper…and especially on me?”

Sam winced. “I can only imagine—”

Another raised finger. “No, Samantha, you can’t even begin to imagine. Because of you, I am the laughingstock of the industry.” Mitzy shuffled through mounds of paperwork, her frustration palpable. “There is one more thing,” she said as she looked up from the pile of papers, seemingly surprised to see Sam still sitting there. “Under the circumstances, I have no choice but to let you go.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Perfectly.”

“I was sworn to secrecy. I had no choice in the matter.”

“Then you should have made certain you had a back-up reporter.”

Sam couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Being fired today was the last thing she’d expected, but plainly Mitzy had been humiliated and it was more than she could take. Sam had wanted to be an investigative reporter since she was little. For five long years, she’d been filing and doing everyone’s dirty work, hoping to get her foot in the door and now after landing her first shot at getting a story, she was being fired. She could not allow this to happen.

“You’re right,” Sam said. “I should have handed the story over to someone else. I’m sorry that you were the only tabloid left in the cold, but I will do anything”—she leaned over the desk—“
anything
to keep my job.” And sadly, Sam realized, it was the honest-to-God truth. For years, she’d been doing everything she could to get a story and prove to her family she could be someone and make something of herself. If she walked out of here today without a job, where would she be when her fake marriage was over?

“You’re married to one of the richest men in the country and yet you want to continue working for the
LA Beat
?”

Until Sam was actually paid the money owed, she had enough money in savings to last her six months at the most. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I want to be a reporter. For five years, I have busted my butt to get a story. I don’t want to lose—”

Mitzy raised her pencil and pointed it at her, once again cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’ve got an idea.”

Sam wasn’t sure she liked the half-crazed look in her boss’s eyes, but she was desperate.

“One thousand words a week. That’s what I want.”

Sam tried to stay calm, tried not to appear as excited as she felt. “What do you want me to write about?”

“A thousand-word story every week about the real Dominic DeMarco and what it’s like to be married to a superstar.”

Sam didn’t say a word.

“Our readers will go crazy. Do that for me,” Mitzy said, “and I’ll let you keep your job.”

Sam felt horrible about Mitzy being the laughingstock of the industry due to her actions, and yet this was asking too much. Dominic didn’t trust reporters as it was. She already knew how he felt about having his personal life made public. This wasn’t good. Writing about their time together when the marriage was over was one thing, but writing about him while she was actually living with him as his wife and without his permission was quite another. “Dominic wouldn’t like it.”

Mitzy’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen DeMarco on many talk shows over the years telling the world he doesn’t read the papers. He’ll never know, especially since you could write under a pen name.”

“His managers see everything written about their client. I’m his wife; of course he’d know who was writing the stories.”

Mitzy didn’t look convinced.

Sam rubbed the back of her neck. She’d worked too long and too hard for this position and for this opportunity. Hell, she married Dominic
because
of her career. Mitzy had a lot of clout in the business. Bottom line: she couldn’t walk out of this office without a job. Her marriage to Dominic was temporary. Her job was not. In three months, he’d be single again. She’d be quickly forgotten and he’d go back to having a different woman on his arm every week.

Sam straightened. She had integrity. “I can’t do it.”

“Then you’ll need to pack your things.”

Desperation clawed at Sam’s insides. In three short months, she would have the exclusive rights to Dominic’s story. It would all be on the up-and-up. She wouldn’t be writing behind Dominic’s back because he knew it was coming. She just needed more time. “In three months, I’ll give you what you want.”

Mitzy angled her head. “Why three months?”

“I need time to organize my thoughts. This is my one shot. I want to get it right.”

“Okay, but I want an outline showing me what you have in mind. I’ll give you a few weeks and then we’ll talk.” Mitzy grabbed a notebook, scribbled a few sentences about what she expected and then signed and dated the bottom of the page and slid the paper across the desk.

“You want me to sign that?”

Mitzy nodded. “I certainly do.”

Sam signed her name and then dated the piece of paper, figuring she had nothing to lose.

Mitzy put the paper in a manila folder, and then waved her hand toward the door, making it clear it was time for Sam to get out of her office.

“What should I work on in the meantime?”

Mitzy drummed her pencil against the edge of her desk. “What do you mean?”

“Do you have any other stories you’d like me to get started on?”

“Organize your desk, catch up on the filing, then go home and follow your husband around,” Mitzy said with a chuckle. “I want to know what he does every day, twenty-four-seven. I want details.”

Sam exhaled.

“Where’s the fire and the spunk?” Mitzy asked. “You should be excited at the prospect of spending more time with your husband.”

Mitzy’s gaze became intense as she looked at Sam, peering right through her as if she could read Sam’s mind. The look was downright scary.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, of course not.” Sam’s insides churned. “I guess I’ll get caught up on the filing and then I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Glad to have you back,” Mitzy said with a caustic laugh as Sam left the office.

On her way back through the maze of cubicles, Sam stopped at Kate’s desk. She considered Kate to be a good friend, but Kate wouldn’t even look her way. “Come on, Kate, talk to me. If I had known I was getting married, I would have told you, I swear.”

Kate closed the file on her desk. “You’re telling me you didn’t know you were going to marry one of the most sought-after celebrities in the US?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“Your mother is still alive.”

“That’s not the point,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I thought we had a solid friendship,” Kate said. “I’ve always had respect for you because I know you’re a hard worker and you’re determined to succeed. I thought we were friends.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. It felt as if a vise were squeezing her head tighter and tighter.

Kate sighed. “You looked me square in the eyes before you left and told me you were going to fly to New York and get that story even if you had to kick down the backdoor and sneak inside the church. Next thing I know you’re the mystery bride, the person the entire country has been dying to see. Don’t you know how foolish we looked? Not just Mitzy, but the mystery bride’s friend? Guess who they all came running to on your wedding day?” Kate pointed at her own chest. “Me! Within hours of your wedding, Mitzy and her entourage were camped inside my tiny apartment for the weekend, figuring you would call eventually.”

Sam’s stomach churned. “I’m so sorry.” And she was. She’d disappointed a lot of people.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Dominic?”

“No, Bozo the Clown. Yes, Dominic.”

“Not long.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”

Sam sighed and then headed for her workstation.

“You’re not leaving?”

“No. I’ll be in and out over the next few months. Right now I’m going to look through my mail and get caught up on the filing.”

“In case you forgot, you’re married to Dominic DeMarco.”

“I realize that.”

Kate lifted herself from her chair and walked over to Sam. “And yet you’re still going to work here?”

“Didn’t I always tell you I would never give up my job for a man?”

“He’s not just any man,” Kate said, taking a seat on the edge of Sam’s desk.

“No, you’re right. He’s not just any man, is he?”

***

The cab driver yanked the wheel and stopped in a dark alley. Sam looked out the back window and smiled when she saw the paparazzi race by. “Great work,” she told the driver. He smiled as if he’d done it a million times before, and then started off again.

It was growing dark by the time Sam climbed out of the yellow taxicab on E. Palm Avenue. After thanking the driver and giving him an extra big tip, she headed for her apartment.

She glanced at her cell phone. No missed calls. She wondered if Maria had told Dominic where she would be. She found herself missing him, which was ridiculous considering their relationship was a complete sham.

As she approached her residence, she spotted a man sitting on her front stoop, leaning against the door. “Ken?”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. His hair was bleached from the sun, making him look as if he’d just been surfing. He was still as handsome as she remembered.

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet your fiancé?”

“Ex-fiancé who left me for a girl within a week of meeting her. I would say I was being kind.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

She dug through her purse for the keys to her front door. “So, what are you doing here?” she asked again as he came to his feet.

He didn’t look half bad, which irked her. His caramel-colored hair looked windblown and mussed. His mossy green button-up shirt showed off his well-muscled arms.

His eyes locked on hers. “Did you really marry that guy?”

Holding his gaze, she realized she didn’t feel anything. No tingles. No fluttering inside her belly. The notion she might truly be over him made her smile. “Yes,” she said. “I really did marry Dominic DeMarco.” She flashed her two-carat diamond wedding ring. “Does that surprise you?”

“It does.”

To think she used to appreciate his brutal honesty. She shrugged, relieved to finally locate her keys at the bottom of her purse. Sam opened the door. Ken walked in ahead of her without permission.

Stepping inside, she dropped her purse on the coffee table. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you this, Ken, and then I want you to leave. What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She spread her arms wide. “Couldn’t be better.”

“You look tired.”

As she looked closer at him, her eyes narrowed. “What’s with the stubbled jaw? I thought you hated facial hair?”

“Pamela liked it, so I figured I’d keep it.”

“How is Pamela?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”