“All in good time. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up without another word.
Owing a favor to Shane was worse than owing a favor to the Russian mafia, but it might be worth it. A few seconds later, an email with a video attachment appeared. I pressed play and leaned back to watch.
Tessa’s face filled the screen. Wavy caramel hair streamed over her shoulders, and even in the pixelated excuse for a video, her aquamarine eyes shone with promised sensuality. Confidence oozed from her pores, and when she smiled, it was as if she was smiling directly at me. Everything about her was stunning. Hell, even a blind eunuch would look at her and fall to his knees in adoration.
Seduction was all part of her skill, all part of the con. She used it to deceive unsuspecting people.
If she was this beautiful on camera, what would she look like in real life? The picture panned out. A tailored black suit gave her a professional appearance, and the skyscraper heels on her do-me boots were so high her backside wiggled when she walked. A lock of hair fell into her eyes, and when she brushed it from her face, a ring with a diamond the size of a grape glinted in the sunshine.
She jabbered on and on about romance and all that shite. How hers and her fiancé’s love was fated. How the age-old surroundings of Oak Castle would be the perfect backdrop for Violet and Archer’s wedding.
Oak Castle? I sat up. Oak Castle was in County Donegal. About an hour’s drive from my parents’ house.
The castle gates had closed thirteen years ago, and the last time I drove past, the place looked as if it was on the verge of crumbling to dust.
If she could get the old chef who owned the place to open the doors, she was better than good. She was a mastermind.
I closed the video. More emails from Shane sat in my inbox. I clicked through them. Most were from pissed-off brides all accusing Tessa of stealing their money and ruining their big day. Some were from caterers demanding cash and threatening legal action. Tessa Maken was the worst kind of woman alive—breathtakingly beautiful and completely untrustworthy. Whatever her plan was, she wouldn’t get away with it.
I booked myself on the next red-eye to Dublin.
Chapter Two
Tessa
I sat in my rusted hatchback and rubbed smears of mud from my boots with a baby wipe. Making the right impression was hugely important because I was about to meet Barb Crawford, Violet Hale’s public relations manager.
Nerves danced in my stomach, but I’d done it. I’d won the job, and now all I had to do was make sure no one discovered my little white lie. If they did, I was screwed.
Violet had fallen in love with my pitch. Who wouldn’t? It epitomized head-over-heels dreamy love. And it was a great romantic story. Such a shame a story was all it would ever be.
Violet wanted to meet my fated fiancé, but I’d explained he was overseas on business and wouldn’t get home until New Year’s Eve. By then, Violet and Archer would have already ridden into the sunset, and I would be swimming in clients and contracts, all thoughts of my mysterious fiancé long forgotten.
Christmas Eve was in six days, and getting everything organized meant living on caffeine and anxiety. Not that I cared. Working twenty hours every day until Violet and Archer were married would be worth the exhaustion.
If an over-the-top mythical wedding was what Violet wanted, then she’d get it. All I had to do was continue plastering over the ever-widening cracks in my life for a few more days.
No one needed to know my world teetered on the verge of collapse. When this year was over, I’d build a fortress no one could knockdown. But before I could move on with my life, this job had to succeed. Lawyers and the bank demanded money, my stomach grumbled for more than Ramen noodles, and the slumlord who’d sublet me an apartment threatened to change the locks if I didn’t pay the back rent I owed before the new year.
If I hadn’t won Violet and Archer’s wedding, I’d have had to file for bankruptcy and say goodbye to Ireland, which meant going back to Long Island and admitting to everyone Shane Gorman—aka Mr. Perfect—had deceived and defrauded me.
Facing that kind of humiliation wasn’t on top of my to-do list. Neither was failing. If it took the rest of my life, I’d pay back every single penny to every single person whose dreams my blind stupidity had ruined.
I hit my clenched fists off my thighs. Why for the love of God hadn’t I changed the bank account information when I’d cut Shane out of my life? Business 101: don’t give your con artist ex access to the company bank accounts and remember to change your passwords.
For the past few weeks, I’d changed my passwords every day, but I was sure he was still finding a way to hack his way in because some emails were always marked as read when I logged on.
How could I have been so gullible, so idiotic? Simple. His movie-star looks and silver tongue had hypnotized me. For eight months, his Oscar-worthy performance had fooled everyone in my life. By the time his mask had slipped and shown his true face, it was too late. All my profits and savings were gone along with him. For as long as I lived, I’d never trust another man, especially a good looking Irish one.
No one had a clue what rock Shane had hidden himself under. The police were investigating,
