Page 22 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

SABATAGE AND SEDUCTION

ROXY

It starts with an email. The subject line simply says,

“There’s no way you approved this.”

The email is just an attachment.

I open it. It’s a screen-grab from a wedding blog.

There’s a photo of a wedding reception table under my company’s name…

except the table looks like a sad Pinterest fail.

Plastic chairs. Wrinkled and stained linens.

Centerpieces that might be… dead ? The caption reads, “Bold Hearts Events drops the ball again? Guests say reception looked like a clearance sale at Hobby Lobby.”

I stare. Blink. And read it again. And then, again.

“No. No, no, no.” I screech.

Spinning toward my laptop, my fingers fly across the keys. “What the fuck?”

Chase hastily looks up from where he’s chopping peppers. “Everything okay, babe?” His tone is anxious.

Whirling around, I glare at him. “Do I fucking look okay, Chase?!”

Setting the knife down in the sink carefully, he holds his hands up. “Um… you look beautiful. Slightly murderous. I think I’m going to hide the knives, but you look beautiful. Uh, what’s happened?”

I jab a finger at the screen. “Sabotage! Someone Photoshopped this bullshit! Or used AI for these because they’re too fucking stupid to use Photoshop. But this is fake! That’s not our wedding. That’s not even our linens… those are poly! That’s a… a fucking plastic fork .”

He walks over, leans down to peer at my laptop screen. “Wow. That’s… impressively bad.”

“Exactly!” I wave wildly. “Who did this?! Why?!”

He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Think about it.” His eyes lock on mine. “Who benefits if your reputation tanks?”

My eyes instantly narrow.

I know exactly who it was. That bitch!

I practically snarl, “Danica.”

He nods. “Danica. My first thought. She’s still around?” He whistles.

“Yes, Danica Daniels. Rival planner. She used to work for us, but then, she quit and started her own business… The Wish version. She’s evil incarnate.

Do you remember when she tried to pass off a Costco cake as ‘bespoke artisan couture?’ I mean, I actually like Costco cake, and their whipped buttercream is delicious, but Costco is not couture! ”

He whistles. “So, she’s still a nightmare.”

“She is.” I flop dramatically onto the couch.

“She’s been trying to poach vendors for months.

And I saw her glaring at me at the expo.

One of my couples called me to say she sought them out and offered to take over their planning after the Bridezilla incident.

It didn’t work, so it appears that she’s now trying to sabotage us. ”

Chase sits beside me and pulls me onto his lap. I settle against him. “Well, I think the first step is proving it’s her. Then, if you do, what are you gonna do about it?”

I smile slowly. “First… get proof. Then, burn her to the ground.”

He kisses my temple. “That’s my girl. But proof first, babe.”

The next day, I’m at a venue walkthrough when my phone buzzes with a text.

Mari Lynn

It’s 100% Danica.

Two calls this morning ratted her out. She’s been dropping snide comments at industry parties. Another client sent screenshots of a chat.

Want me to leak that video of her crying in the walk-in freezer?

I snort and type out my reply.

Roxy

Tempting.

Stick a pin in that one. We’ll circle back if we need to.

I’ve got a better idea.

Closing the text, I plaster on my best PR smile and turn back to the mother of the bride.

“Yes, Mrs. Carlisle, I promise the doves will not poop during the ceremony. I checked with the trainer personally.”

She beams. “You’re such a professional, Roxy.”

Damn right, I am.

My phone buzzes again.

Mari Lynn

Also… Danica’s trying to undercut us with the Martinson wedding.

Told them she can do it cheaper.

Sighing, I quickly respond.

Roxy

On it.

She’s about to learn why cheap isn’t chic.

By the time I get home, I’ve been on my feet for ten hours. I’ve fielded seventeen calls, had three vendors try to defect, and one bridesmaid cry on my shoulder and have her eyeliner stain my shirt.

Why? Because her dress is strapless and the other bridesmaids’ all have killer boobs while she’s sporting ant bites.

My inbox is a battlefield. My feet ache. My brain is fried. I’m ready to collapse. But when I open the door… I smell garlic, butter, and warm bread.

Chase is standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron that says, “Ask me about my meat.”

“Dinner’s ready, babe,” he says, voice low and eyes mischievous.

I blink. “You’re naked.”

“ Technically , I’m wearing an apron and boxer briefs.” He grins.

“Is it tied in the back?” I ask, hoping the answer is no.

He spins slowly. It is tied… with a bow above his perfect ass barely concealed under grey boxer briefs.

Groaning, I start crossing the kitchen. “I love you so much.”

He grins and shakes his finger at me. “No touching. Sit. I made you garlic butter shrimp, lemon pasta, and chocolate mousse. Eat first.” His brow waggles. “ Then , touch.”

Sighing, I flop into a chair. “Fine. Why are you perfect?”

“Because you’ve had a shit week.” He sets a glass of wine in front of me. “This dish calls for wine, but I also have a pitcher of margaritas in the fridge. And because I like feeding you.”

I sip the wine. Watch him plate the food. Watch the way his muscles flex under the apron. Watch the way he moves like he owns the kitchen—and me.

He absolutely owns both.

By the end of dinner, I’m no longer hungry for food. “You’re killing me, Mr. West,” I murmur, letting my eyes drift over his chest and arms like a caress.

He leans forward staring into my eyes. “That’s the plan, Mrs. West.” I lick chocolate off my spoon. Slowly. Deliberately. His jaw tightens. “Babe…” he warns.

“Yes?” I ask innocently.

He stands, comes around the table, and lifts me effortlessly. “Time for dessert,” he growls.

“Thought I just had it.” I tease.

His eyes are molten as they look into mine. “ You did. Now it’s my turn.”

He carries me into the bedroom. My clothing is quickly removed.

His boxer briefs hit the floor. We don’t make it to the bed.

My feet settle on the floor as my back presses to the wall.

He drops before me and my knee wraps around his neck while his hands grip my hips.

My hands fist his hair and within moments, I’m screaming his name.

Later, tangled in sheets, he kisses my forehead. “You’re gonna win, Rox. No matter what Danica throws at you.”

I smile sleepily. “With you in my corner? I’m unstoppable.”

He pulls me closer. “I aways have been. I always will be.”

For the first time all week… I believe it.