1
JOY
The jeweler eyesme as I hand over my engagement ring. “He cheated on you, didn’t he?”
“God, I wish.” I take the five thousand dollars in cash from her, not entirely sure what to do with myself. This is a lot of money, the most I’ve ever held in my hand.
And this is what my ex-fiancé gets for taking me as a fool.
Two days ago, I found out he was framing me.
Cheating would be easier to deal with, and definitely a lot less fucked up than Igor forging my signature. Apparently, I have millions of dollars sitting in an offshore account over in Dubai.
I’ve never seen that kind of money before. And I’ve never been to Dubai.
… I have a lot to figure out.
“Damn.” The jeweler raises her brows at me. “Whatever he did, he’ll regret it. He won’t find another face and ass like yours around here.”
I force out a light laugh. “You’re too kind.”
“Speaking of kind,” she says. “That diamond ring is one hell of one.”
“Which is why I thought I’d pay you a visit.” I wink, zip up the bag and bid her goodbye.
The smirk disappears from my face as soon as I’m back outside on the streets of Malibu.
I take a deep breath to ease the nerves in my stomach, but as I turn onto Igor’s street and they pull even tighter, I just get nauseous.
Phase two is about to begin.I need to retrieve the forged documents from his apartment, otherwise I’m screwed and could end up spending the rest of my life behind bars for something I didn’t even do.
I glance at my watch. It’s almost eleven o’clock—not quite lunch time. He should be out.
Igor proposed to me two weeks ago. I had said ‘yes’ without hesitation because I thought he was perfect in every way. Attentive. Respectful. A real Prince Charming. Until he started sticking his nose into my finances. Asking way too many questions about my work when he doesn’t care about fashion.
If he did, he’d experiment more with his outfits instead of wearing the same three-piece suits every day.
Looking back, we really weren’t that compatible.
I buzz into his apartment, no problem at all. It helps to know some of the staff.
Wendy unlocks the door for me. “Here to grab the rest of your belongings?”
“Yep.”
She reaches out and grabs my hand. “I’m so sorry, by the way. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through.”
“Don’t stress it. I’ll live.” I flash her a smile.
“The dress was perfect, by the way,” Wendy adds. “Thanks for helping me pick it out.”
“I’m glad to help. You should wear peach more. It really compliments your skin tone.” I give her a smile, and then call for an elevator and head up to Igor’s floor.
The views from the top are spectacular. Igor lives in a penthouse apartment, overlooking Malibu beach. His dad got him into real estate when he was eighteen, which is why he can afford to live in luxury.
So he said, anyway.
As it turns out, he was lying about the real estate thing. That was the final straw for me. I visited his work two days ago with champagne to surprise him. He was nowhere to be found in the office—just a conference table full of men telling me they’d never heard of the man I was searching for.