Page 10 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

“She’s my size, so she can wear my dress.”

“No.”

“You need to leave here around five. The flight to Vegas is less than an hour but there might be traffic. I don’t want you to be late.”

“No.”

“The wedding starts at seven, right?”

“No.”

Her forehead furrowed. “It doesn’t? I could have sworn the invite said seven. I have it on my desk. I’ll double-check when I get home.”

“Yes, it starts at seven. But no, I’m not taking Aria.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . I don’t like Aria.”

Her mouth pursed into a thin line.

“She doesn’t like me either.”

Clara huffed. She knew I was right.

There had never been a minute, a second or a fraction of a second that Aria and I had gotten along. The first time we’d met had been in Vegas, not long after I’d hired Clara as my new assistant. Aria had come to visit and Clara had wanted to show off her new office, so she’d brought Aria in for a tour.

At first, I mistook her for the weekend cleaning crew. I didn’t notice the similarities in her features to Clara’s. After Aria corrected me, I took maybe ten minutes out of their precious visit, ten fucking minutes, to run through a to-do list with Clara. Apparently, my business annoyed Aria. I’d infringed on her time. She had the gall to snap at me. In my own goddamn office. She had the nerve to tell me that Clara was off the clock and my precious demands would have to wait.

No one told me what to do, certainly not in my own building.

So I told her that if she didn’t like it, I could arrange for her to be flown home. Immediately.

That was one of the tamest exchanges we’d had over the years.

During one visit here, she’d walked through Clara’s new house and made a list of improvements. The deck—three inches off the ground—needed a railing. The front door—of a house guarded by motion sensors and a gate—didn’t have a deadbolt. The staircase should have a baby gate and the cupboards needed safety latches—for a baby who couldn’t so much as roll over.

The list went on for two pages. Not wanting to burden Clara with the task, Aria marched it over, threw it in my face and told me that if I had enough money to build my monstrosity of a house, I could at least make sure Clara’s cottage was safe for an infant.

Just thinking about it made my nostrils flare.

Last year, Clara had gone to Oregon to visit Aria during the summer. I called a few times, four tops, to check in. On my last call, Aria answered. She’d stolen Clara’s phone to inform me that if I couldn’t fuck off for the five days, she’d throw Clara’s phone in the ocean.

And Clara thought we should attend a wedding together? That we could convince people we were a couple? Ludicrous. Aria and I would kill each other before the cocktail hour was over.

No, tonight I needed an ally by my side. Not a woman who thought I was a “demanding prick.”

Maybe I did rely on Clara too much. That was Aria’s hang-up. But Clara was the only person in this world I trusted. She was the only one I believed, without a shadow of a doubt, was on my side.

The employees at Carmichael Communications were loyal, but my grandmother emitted a strong sphere of influence.

Coreen was a master manipulator. She wove a dangerous web. Grandmother had a knack for making people feel special. Cherished. You trusted her faithfully, right up until that moment when she shoved a dagger between your ribs.

It was part of the reason I’d moved to Welcome: to escape Vegas and her pit of vipers. Here, I could do my work with minimal interference. On a good day, I spoke to her once. And here, I could run my own businesses, the ones she had no part in, while I bided my time.

Fifty-four weeks and three days.

Then I’d be thirty-five.