the other woman, shaking her hand. Lifting her designer sunglasses to her black, shiny hair, Elise Patel looked around them, blinking in the bright sunshine. “Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve left my studio in weeks.”
“Composing a new score?”
“Not just composing. Producing, too.” Dropping her expensive designer handbag carelessly to the rough wood patio floor, she got the waiter’s attention with a snap. “Triple espresso, please.”
“Triple?” Tucking Jett’s blanket around him in the nearby stroller, Lola said with a laugh, “If I drank that, I’d be awake for weeks.”
She snorted. “I wish. I’m still trying to wake up, after three hours’ sleep. I only have ten minutes before I need to get back to work.” With a slight smile, she shook her head. “Honestly, I do not have time for this.”
The famous composer did indeed look a little tired, with dark circles beneath her eyes, wearing oversized jeans and a plain black sweatshirt, though she’d driven up in a two-hundred-thousand-dollar SUV.
Lola leaned back in her chair. “So why did you agree to meet me?”
Elise Patel’s lips curved at the edges. “I was curious to meet the woman who actually managed to marry Rodrigo Cabrera.”
All around them, beautiful people were chatting, sipping their lattes at this trendy beachside café not too far from Malibu. The sun was bright in the California sky, and though it was now mid-December, the air was warm enough that, in the stroller, Jett was wearing just a T-shirt and shorts over his fat baby legs, and Lola wore a simple cotton sundress and sandals, her long blond hair in a ponytail.
“I wanted to meet you too,” Lola said, sipping her cappuccino. “I’ve already met the other two women who cheated on him, but not you.”
The composer’s eyes flashed in irritation, then she gave a grudging smile. “You’re direct. I like that. Saves time.” She looked up at the waiter who’d arrived with her espresso. “Thank you.” Taking a sip, she sat back, then sighed with pleasure. “Delicious.” Elise lifted a dark eyebrow. “So did you just invite me here to insult me, or were you curious about me as well?”
“Curious about one thing.” Lola leaned forward. “Why did you do it?”
“Why what? Why did I cheat on him?” The other woman rolled her eyes. “That’s a rude question. There’s no reason for me to answer it. Unless you’re afraid you might do the same?”
“Of course not!” Lola said.
“It all seems so long ago.”
“Not even five years.” She knew Rodrigo had ended his engagement to Elise a year before Lola started working for him.
“Yes, five years. An eternity.” Blowing the steam off her espresso, the composer shook her head good-naturedly. “Do you know how many film scores I’ve written since then? How many awards I’ve won?”
“Yes, I know you’re very busy and very famous,” Lola said. “Is that why you cheated on Rodrigo? For the attention?”
“I loved him, I think. But I never saw him.” She took another sip of espresso. “After he proposed to me, he suddenly got very busy with work and disappeared for months. Then a gorgeous production assistant suddenly was bringing me flowers. Asking me about my work. Singing my praises. Offering me foot rubs.” She shrugged. “It happened. It’s not something I’m proud of.”
“And you ended up falling in love with the other man?”
“Love? It was just one night.” She snorted. “And the sex wasn’t even good. I regretted it instantly. I might have tried to work it out with Rodrigo, but someone sent him photographs. It was all very strange. If it was meant to be a blackmail attempt, the man never asked for money. He just disappeared.”
“Disappeared...” Prickles lifted on the back of Lola’s neck. She looked down at Jett, burbling happily in his stroller. The story was too much a duplicate of the other women’s to be a coincidence.
“Honestly, looking back I’m almost relieved it happened,” the composer said. “Since he dumped me, I’ve devoted myself to work, and it’s all paid off. Tell Rodrigo that when you see him. Tell him thanks.”
“Um...all right,” she said, a little surprised.
Tilting her head, Elise murmured, “I think I can see why he married you.”
Lola was flattered in spite of herself. “What do you mean?”
“I heard you were his assistant. You quit your job for him. So you have nothing else going on. You can just follow him around. You’re his trophy. His pet.” Her lips creased. “I think that’s what he actually wanted in a woman all along. So maybe your marriage will survive.” She finished the espresso at a gulp, then tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Thanks for the coffee.”
And the other woman left, getting into her expensive SUV and driving fast down the coastal highway.
Lola stared after her in shock.
You quit your job for him. So you have nothing else going on. You can just follow him around. You’re his trophy. His pet. I think that’s what he actually wanted in a woman all along. So maybe your marriage will survive.
She tapped her fingertips angrily on the table. His trophy, was she? His pet? As she signaled for the bill, her heart thrummed with anger. Lola was his wife! The mother of a tiny infant! She had plenty going on!
But the insult burned through her.
For most of her life, Lola had prided herself on working longer and harder than anyone else. Just as her mother once had. Being an assistant to a powerful tycoon was long, difficult work, and she’d done well. She’d thrived. And being the logistics and operations manager of their household was no joke. She—
A man walking through the restaurant patio paused as he went past her table. “Oh. Hello again.”
Still lost in her indignant thoughts, Lola looked up.
For a moment, she struggled to recognize him. Tall and blond, wearing a tight T-shirt and board shorts over his muscled body, he was handsome, tanned with a white, gleaming smile.
A chill went down her spine.
“Don’t you remember me?” the man said, drawing closer to her table. His eyes seemed to caress her, and so did his smile. “We met by chance a few weeks ago? On the beach?”
Lola rose up, trembling.
“Who sent you?” Her voice hardened. “Who hired you?”
The young man went pale beneath his tan. “What? Nobody!”
“Tell me!” she demanded, pounding the table.
“You’re crazy,” he said, backing away nervously. He looked around the patio with its view of the ocean across the street. “She’s crazy!”
Turning, he practically ran from the café.
“Don’t
