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to attend his own funeral.
    When they returned to Victoria’s suite, they found her exactly where they left her. Sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at her cell phone as if willing it to ring. Grace hovered around closely, though it was clear they were also at a loss as to what to say. No one saw this coming. Marcus Henderson seemed as dependable as they came.
    Mondell swore under his breath. He didn’t like seeing his daughter looking so distraught and it was clear that it was eating him up inside.
    â€œIs it done?” she asked without looking back at them.
    Celya instantly went to her side. “Yes, sweetheart. Your father took care of everything.” She squeezed her daughter’s shoulders.
    Exhaling a long sigh, Victoria leaned over and rested her head on Celya’s shoulders. “Did they laugh?”
    â€œOf course they didn’t laugh!” Mondell thundered. “They wouldn’t dare.”
    Victoria closed her eyes. No doubt her father trulybelieved that, but she knew better. Right now, it was just three hundred people. By tomorrow, it will be all of New York when the news hit Page Six. Then again, maybe the whole world was already twittering and Facebooking about the whole debacle.
    â€œIt looks like I really know how to pick them,” she moaned.
    â€œOh, sweetheart.” Her mother delivered another squeeze. “Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”
    Well who else was there? Marcus? Hell. She didn’t even know where he was.
    Her cell phone rang and vibrated on the nightstand.
    Victoria’s head popped up off her mother’s shoulder and she stared blankly at the phone.
    â€œI’ll answer it,” her father said, moving in to swipe up the phone.
    But the idea of him tearing a chunk out of Marcus’s hide before she had a chance didn’t set well. “No! I’ll handle this.” She seized the phone from her father’s hands and ignored the disappointment written on his face.
    â€œHello,” she answered coolly.
    â€œUh…Vicki?”
    Victoria pulled the phone away from her face and frowned at it. No one called her Vicki. No. One. Rocking her neck from side to side, she cracked a few stiff bones in her neck and then placed the phone back up against her ear. “Marcus, where in the hell are you?”
    â€œI’m still in Las Vegas.”
    â€œDid you miss your flight? Did you forget that we were supposed to be getting married?” Her voice rose with every question. “How about, did you forget that we have over three hundred people here—waiting?!”
    The phone line fell silent.
    â€œMarcus?!”
    â€œUm…no.” Marcus cleared his throat. “I didn’t forget. That’s sort of why I’m calling. I, uh, I’m not going to be able to, um, marry you.”
    This time, she let the phone go silent.
    â€œVicki?”
    â€œWhat is it with this Vicki crap?” she snapped. “Stop calling me that.”
    â€œOh. Sorry.”
    â€œAnd what do you mean you can’t marry me? Do you know how much has gone into this wedding? The time? The money?” She started pacing back and forth, wishing that he was actually there so that she could wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze it until his eyeballs popped out.
    â€œYeah. I’m sorry about that. But, you see, I met this wonderful woman out here and…well…we got married last night.”
    Victoria stopped pacing and, once again, the phone line went silent.
    â€œVicki—I mean, Victoria? Are you there?”
    Frankly, she wasn’t sure whether she was there or not. This certainly felt more like an out-of-body experience. “What do you mean, you got married last night?” she hissed so low that it sounded like she was pouring venom into the phone.
    â€œHE WHAT?” her father roared.
    Undoubtedly Marcus heard her father’s roar because suddenly he developed a stuttering