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“That isn’t what happened.” The smile left Eva’s face. “He didn’t care about the spilled champagne. He didn’t say
or do anything—until Matilda told him Cynthia had fired her. Then he pulled his business because he was so mad with Star Events for firing Matilda.”
Stunned into silence, Paige absorbed the truth. “So you’re saying Cynthia lied? Again?”
Matt exchanged glances with Jake. “We did tell you it didn’t sound like the sort of thing Chase would do.”
“But—why would Cynthia lie?” But she didn’t need to hear the answer to that. She already knew it. “Because she didn’t want to take responsibility for her decision. Because she’s a coward.”
“So Chase is, in fact, indirectly responsible for the fact that we lost our jobs.” Frankie gave a short laugh. “There is a certain symmetry in that. We should probably be mad.”
“We should be grateful.” Paige stood up. “It’s because we lost our jobs that we now have Urban Genie. And I’m so relieved about Matilda. Where has she been all this time?”
“Holed up in Chase’s beach house in The Hamptons having lots of beach sex and writing her next book. Because she dropped her phone she lost all her contacts, and of course when she called Star Events to speak to us they wouldn’t pass on personal details. Chase bought her a massive diamond from Tiffany’s. And we’ll see them soon enough because the two of them are coming to Jake’s event.”
Paige glanced at Jake. “You didn’t mention it.”
“Chase Adams was on the list. I didn’t know he’d accepted and I knew nothing about this Matilda person.”
Matt put down his beer. “You must be excited, Paige. This is your first big event.”
Excited? She was dreading it. All she could think about was the fact that Jake would be there and everything felt awkward.
“Of course she’s excited. We’re all excited!” Filling the silence, Eva bounced to her feet. “It will be lovely to see Matilda again.”
That much was true. Aware that they were all looking at her, Paige nodded. “It will.”
She needed to move on and forget what had happened.
She needed to think of Jake as a client. Nothing more.
She’d be professional, friendly and efficient.
And she’d avoid elevators at all costs.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When life sends you lemons, ask for a return address.
—Eva
PAIGE WALKED AROUND the rooftop terrace in Lower Manhattan, checking every small detail.
It was hard to believe that weeks of work were about to come to fruition.
The rooftop echoed with hammering and shouts as the crew Frankie had hired put the final touches to the display and tested the lights. They’d been there until late the night before and were back again at dawn. Frankie, dressed in jeans with her red hair pulled into a careless ponytail, stood like a fierce warrior, directing proceedings. She’d set up a staging area where they could untie the bundles of flowers and prepare them.
Paige had to admit that what they’d designed together was impressive.
On the other side of the terrace Eva flitted backward and forward as she coordinated final details between the venue and Delicious Eats.
The elevators had been transformed into futuristic pods, ready to transport the guests into a new cyber age. From there they were directed through two cleverly lit “tunnels” onto the roof terrace, where the world opened up to them, symbolizing cyber technology.
There wasn’t a single possibility Paige hadn’t considered. She had two contingency plans for every element of the evening and she was convinced that there was nothing that could go wrong that she couldn’t handle.
Jake said that you couldn’t control things, but she could control this.
And she didn’t only have Plan A; she had Plan B and C.
