“Oh, one other thing.” She smiled, leaning back in her chair. “St. Patrick’s found out about Angelika and Jordan and the confession booth and withdrew their invitation.”

My temperature dropped, my skin cold as ice with nothing more than a heartbeat and that sentence. “What?”

“St. Patrick’s is off the table for the Felix wedding. You’re going to have to find another venue.”

My thoughts raced with obstacles and chaos and a string of colorful expletives before landing on a solution. “Skylight. It’s already booked for the reception, and they have space.”

“You’ll have to convince Angelika. You know how she had her heart set on St. Patrick’s.”

“Then she shouldn’t have fucked her fiancé in the confession booth,” I snapped. “Are they still airing the footage?”

“Yes. They kept the money in exchange for that indignity.” She watched me shrewdly. Today, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail so sleek and severe, she could have whipped you with it and drawn blood. “Oh, come on—you had to know it wasn’t going to be that easy.”

“I suppose I did,” was all I could concede, too busy with the explosion that had just detonated inside my plans.

“I heard about Natasha.”

Even the blood in my veins stilled. I didn’t dare speak.

“It’s a shame about Brock. What a catch.”

The shot hit its mark. A bloom of pain spread in my chest. “She’s welcome to him,” I said with a wooden smile. “I caught a bigger fish.”

Rule number one: never give Addison Lane any personal information, lest she use it to pike your head later.

“Is that so?” she asked with a knife smile.

It was shock and petulance that’d made me admit it. It was fear and regret of the admittance that had me reeling my words back in.

“It is, and thanks so much for asking after me,” I said smartly, standing to let myself out. “Let me know if anything else comes up, would you?”

“I will.”

And then I got the fuck out of her office like my Choos were on fire.

My brain was a flurry of questions and suppositions as I snagged my bag and laptop and headed out of the building for the bakery.

Plans ticked into place for the wedding, the shift not as catastrophic as it could have been. I’d have a thousand calls to make, not to mention the convincing of the Felix women that Skylight would be the right move for the wedding. At this stage in the game, it was the only move. I fired off a text to Sorina, asking for a meeting after the tasting, anxious to fix all that had come unraveled.

If they tried to tell me they wanted the Plaza, I swore I’d pitch myself out of a moving cab.