The unease in Ruth’s expression grew. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Black about that. I’m afraid I don’t have any more details.”
By this point, my mind was swimming. And my whole perspective on that weekend had changed. I had gone into this assuming Ronan was in Las Vegas as some kind of rich playboy. The big hotel room, the drinks, the hedonistic night—it all created a picture that was hard to ignore.
But now I was sitting in a whole home he kept just for show. If there was one thing I knew about Ronan, it was the fact that, like Janus, he conspicuously had two sides to him—the one he showed to the world and the other he showed to me.
Which version had I met that night? And which was the one I woke up married to?
“Mrs. Black?” Ruth almost looked like she felt sorry for me. She set down the iPad, then reached out to pat my hand. “Mr. Black loves you. No matter what stories you might hear, I’m sure that’s true.”
“I—thank you. I know.” I swallowed. I wanted to believe that. I really did. But Ronan and I were still so new. Infatuated with each other, yes, but neither of us had ventured near the L-word.
“There are always more people who want what the Blacks have, ma’am,” Ruth said. “I would remember that if I were you. And, at the very least, accept a security guard if only to safeguard your husband’s peace of mind and that of anyone else who cares for you.”
I nodded. “Right. Okay. Um, can you help with that too?”
Ruth looked relieved that I wasn’t going to fight her anymore about it. “Of course. I’ll speak to Mr. MacNamara today about choosing a personal detail. Now, shall we make a choice about your creative director?”
An hour later,Ruth and I had reviewed the final candidates to run my mother’s business.
“I’ll type up the offer and have it sent out,” Ruth said just as her iPad buzzed with an incoming call. She pressed the Bluetooth in her ear. “Yes, Aaron? Very well, please send them up.” She ended the call and stood. “Your team has arrived.”
The trepidation that had calmed over the last hour fluttered back into my chest. Somehow, while going through the sales reports and resumes, I’d forgotten the other reason I had been summoned to the penthouse instead of staying at home. Today Iwas meeting with the style team Niall Black had all but ordered Ronan to assign me before the reception tomorrow night. Tonight, Laney Fisher would be put away for good (or for as long as I was Ronan’s wife), and these people would turn her into Mrs. Ronan Black.
Just as Ruth left to welcome the team, a friendly face buzzed on my phone.
I grinned. Yes, this was the person I needed to talk to right now.
I opened the FaceTime and grinned. “Girl. You are so going to regret not coming a day early.”
“I knowww,” Megan offered her very best faux-whine. “But you know I couldn’t get off work. I already maxed my PTO for the honeymoon, so my boss is already pissed I’m taking off Friday to fly out. But obviously I wasn’t going to miss my best friend’s wedding reception with a billionaire. Oh my God, Laney, you’re a legitimate socialite!”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop. I am not a socialite. And Ronan’s not a billionaire. Not really.”
“Um, bish, what planet are you living on? Have you even looked up the man’s net worth?”
I huffed. For some reason, the idea of Ronan’s money made me uncomfortable—mostly because it seemed to make him uncomfortable. Other than a penchant for nice clothes and expensive nice liquor that these days he was barely drinking, his day-to-day life was surprisingly modest.
But instead of explaining that for the tenth time, I settled for, “You suck.”
“No, I’m just right.” She sat back in the chair of what looked her cubicle at work. Like half of Seattle, Megan worked in IT. “And I’ll prove it to you while I figure out what to wear on the private jet you are sending for me tomorrow morning. Mandy’s so annoyed with me right now.”
Guilt squeezed my gut at the mention of her boss. She really was on thin ice for taking extra time off. “Listen, if it’s too much, you don’t have to come. I know it was last minute, and your boss is?—”
“Laney.”
“—plus, you and Kev are newlyweds, and I doubt he wants his new wife running off?—”
“Laney!”
I stopped. “What?”
Megan was looking at me like I was missing half my brain cells. “Girl. How many times have you been there for me in the twenty-five years we have known each other?”
“Well, technically it’s twenty-six. We met when we were six months old in daycare.”
“My point exactly. I mean, just in the last year alone, how many times did you do something as my maid of honor that only benefited me?”
I squirmed in my seat. “That’s different. It was your wedding.”
