The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“Ryder. I sent off the Gigi proposal—and I really think it works—and another draft layout for some ads for Baby Mine. I did some work on another book cover.”

“Busy, busy.”

“Just how I like it. Maybe you could take a look at the book cover designs. Then I just wanted to review what I’ve done on the Ryder job. And one thing led to another.”

Sonya picked up her wine. “Confession.”

“I’ll always be your priest.”

“I want the Ryder job because it’s an amazing opportunity, especially for someone with only a few months’ freelancing under her belt.”

“Don’t forget the years working in your field.”

“I don’t. But compared to By Design, I’m incredibly small-time.”

“And incredibly talented.”

“Thanks, Father Fabares. Snagging Ryder as a client would push my business to another level, and why wouldn’t I want that? But there’s this petty little part of me that wants the job because I’d beat Brandon.”

“Well, duh.” Cleo waved her glass. “That’s not petty.”

“It feels petty.”

“Then you’re looking at it wrong. You want the job because it’s a major client, and you’re offering them a clever, creative campaign. You want it because it’ll give your company a big-ass boost. Beating Brandon the asshole Wise? That’s just the proverbial cherry on top.”

Sonya considered. “You’ve got to respect the cherry on top.”

“Of course. Now, let me say as someone who knows you in and out, if not for this job—which I firmly believe you’ll get—you’d barely give that cheating bastard a thought at this point. You moved on—in every way. You have—in no particular order—a business you’re building yourself, a hot, interesting man who, by my view, doesn’t have a cheating bone in his body. You have this amazing house, and all that comes with it. And part of that is a mission to, at its core, right wrongs.

“And”—she smiled and speared some potato—“you’ve got me.”

“You’re right. If I don’t get the job—” She held up a finger before Cleo could object. “I’ll still have you, and all the rest. I’ll keep right on building my business. ButwhenI get the job—”

“There you go.”

“I’ll enjoy that cherry on top. Not as much as the whole rich, gooey sundae, but I’ll enjoy it.”

After dinner, they went to the music room. Once they took a seascape down, they carefully hung the third portrait in its place.

“I guess this is part of righting those wrongs.” Sonya stepped back to study the three brides. “To acknowledge them this way. To display them together this way.”

“They’re meant to be. The same size canvas, the same frame. And the styles, Sonya? They’re so similar. We can see the differences, and your mom can and will. But to the untrained eye?”

“I know. The twin thing again, I guess. The other thing? They painted each at a happy moment—maybe the happiest moment of their lives. No shadows, no sense of tragedy. I like that.”

From upstairs something crashed. On the wall, the portraits shook.

“She doesn’t,” Cleo muttered. “But whatever power she has, there’s an opposing one. We’re part of that. So…” Cleo aimed her middle finger at the ceiling just as the phone went with Queen’s “We Will Rock You.”

With a laugh, Sonya tossed back her hair. “And let me add anUp yoursto round it off.”

Something banged against the ceiling and set the light swaying. The portraits shook, but they didn’t fall.

At three, the clock chimed. Piano music slid through the air like tears. Sonya stirred awake, and though her heart ached when she heard the weeping echoing from the nursery, she felt no pull.

Before she could drift back to sleep, her balcony doors blew open, and an ice-edged wind swept through.

Yoda woke with a wild bark and sprang out of bed.