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fist pumped the air.

Catherine and Johnny shared goodbyes with their parents and waved as they left the house. The air grew still and quiet, and Johnny’s glassy blue eyes stared at Catherine expectantly.

“You’re not smiling anymore. What’s wrong?” His question was simple, but the words smarted her eyes, and her heart rate quickened. She attempted to muster another smile, but her muscles betrayed her. She frowned instead, as tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

“It’s about Edward.”

In truth, she was more upset about Calvin and his antics, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Johnny. She was yet to process the new information that had landed on her at the police station. Edward, her mysterious rescuer, with the dimpled smile – was in fact, Edward Marks; the billionaire heir to the Marks hotel chain.

The Marks’ name was well-known, not just in New York, but all over the world. The family was almost like royalty; owning most of the property on Martha’s Vineyard and often the biggest contributors to charity events. She gasped at the memory of the climate change event. She had questioned how he could possibly afford a ticket. He probably funded the entire evening.

How could she have ended up dating a billionaire? An undercover billionaire no less. And the question of why he had decided to hide his true identity nagged at her. Had she been part of some reality prank show on TV? Her eyes flew around her parents’ living room as if she expected to catch sight of hidden cameras. Johnny coughed, bringing her back to his question. Catherine took a deep breath and told him everything – barring Calvin.

Johnny nodded along as she told him about the day she met Edward. He laughed when she recounted his line, ‘I’ve always got gas,’ and clapped, as if she was delivering a monologue onstage. He shook his head with a moan when she told him that Anthony beat him up.

“That was very bad. I will talk to Ant. He shouldn’t have done that,” he said, wagging his finger. He jumped to his feet and did a little dance with his head bowed low and arms bent when Catherine finished.

“Why are you dancing? This is bad news, not good news,” she said, affronted by his response. Johnny sat and looked up at her with shock.

“Why?” he asked plainly.

“Because he lied to me.” Catherine rubbed her arms and took her turn at the game while Johnny hummed to himself.

“It’s not a big lie though is it? You said he told you he didn’t want to lie, but couldn’t tell you about his work? He could have been a hit man!”

“That’s what I said!” Catherine laughed.

“He’s a good guy. I can feel it.” Johnny tilted his head softly to the side and gazed at her with a smile. Catherine was jealous of the way Johnny looked at the world. Everything fit into one of two camps. Good and bad. There was no ‘it’s complicated.’ He had made up his mind that Edward was good, and because Edward wanted to tell her the truth, but couldn’t, he had done nothing wrong.

But to Catherine, it was much more confusing. What was his intention behind the lie? Had he been telling his family about her? She imagined them sat in a glass lake house, drinks in hand and laughing as he told them about Catherine Fisher, the world-renowned opera singer, thinking he was a mechanic.

“You’re rich.” Johnny said, breaking Catherine out of her thoughts, “Do you tell everyone?”

Catherine stared at Johnny for a moment as he scratched the back of his neck. Edward did that when he was nervous. Which he often was. Maybe his conscience had been weighing heavy but for some unknown reason, he thought he couldn’t tell her. Johnny had a point; money was not in short supply thanks to her singing career, but she was not a billionaire. Not even close. And she never tried to hide who she was. She even introduced him to her family, something she had never done with any previous boyfriend.

“I’m going to the bathroom, don’t steal money from the bank while I’m gone,” Johnny said with a wink as he got to his feet. Catherine chuckled as the doorbell rang. “Oh good. The pizza is here,” he added before disappearing down the hall. Catherine smiled to herself as she crossed the room and pulled the door open.

“Hello.”

A flash of red hair came into view, a white halo surrounded the figure is if they were a holy messenger. But the hairs standing on the back of Catherine’s neck told her if he was a messenger, he wasn’t sent from heaven.

“How – did – you?” Catherine could hardly speak as she backed away. A black boot stepped into the house, and the uninvited guest walked in.

“Nice house,” he said pleasantly, looking around. Catherine’s ears rang so loudly, it was like she had her head stuck in one of the bells of Notre Dame.

“You can’t come in,” she said, trying to add power to her wavering voice. Calvin appeared fully into view as he closed the door behind him.

“I saw you,” he said. His eyes were like ink, no warmth or love behind them. Just darkness.

Calvin Whitehead was a perfect gentleman when he met Catherine. He spoke with an air of confidence and paraded around like a man who owned the city. When he praised Catherine on her talent, she mistook his flattery for adoration. And when he offered her a job at his club it was impossible to say no. She could sense his penetrating gaze from across the dark room as she sang onstage. After every performance he took her to expensive restaurants, showered her with gifts. Made her feel special. She had no idea that those presents had strings attached. If it wasn’t for Calvin, she might not have been noticed by Louis, who then got her into one of the most prestigious theatres in America; Lincoln Center.

But there was

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