Page 102 of Remember Me

“Bellísima, mi cara.”

With a quick nervous smile, I thank her for the compliment. Grabbing my bag, I pad over to the dresser to give myself a final inspection. I stare into the mirror. My reflection startles me. I look stunning. Hot. But I’m missing two important things. I cast my eyes down at my lucky locket and a brand new watch. I quickly slip the necklace around my neck—it hangs perfectly between my clavicles, drawing attention to my cleavage. Then, I fasten the sleek watch, a last-minute gift from Finn, around my wrist. The watch that will be my lifeline tonight. I gaze again at my reflection. It grows confident. Determined. Fierce.

I’m Scarlet Callahan. Frustrated schoolteacher. Aspiring actress and screenwriter. And tonight, Sheldon Greenberg, I’m going to take you down!

I fidget with my lucky locket hoping that luck will be on my side.

CHAPTER 62

Skye

Iplanned to be the first one at Finn’s show. Leaving so early from Malibu. But because of the unexpected fog, the drive along the Pacific Coast Highway is reduced to a crawl. Bumper to bumper traffic. A red sea of brake lights. The frustrating ride does nothing to calm my nerves.We’veworked out a plan. It’s up to me to set it in motion. To plant the bait. I anxiously look down at my new watch. Four-thirty and we’ve only gone a short mile. At this rate, I may never get there.

Sitting next to me, my cell phone rings. I pick it up. It’s Finn.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’re not even at Gladstones?”

Well, at least my new watch works. It does more than tell time. It’s also a tracking and recording device. I tell Finn about the fog and the standstill traffic. Hopefully, it’ll lift as we get closer to town.

Two long hours later, we finally exit onto La Cienega, and I try calling Finn to make sure he knows where I am, but after several rings it goes straight to his voicemail. I leave him a message as we make our way up the busy boulevard to Melrose. Another slow crawl. Another slow hour. The time: 7:15. The event ends at eight. As I gaze out the window, a mélange of anxiety and impatience makes my heart beat double time and my nerves buzz. We at last reach the gallery, where a long line of luxury cars and limos, waiting to be valeted, stretches down the street. Forget it. Adrenaline kicking in, I hop out of the sedan and hurry to the entrance in my skyscraper heels.

A bouncer, a Dwayne Johnson lookalike, confronts me. He’s holding a clipboard and wearing a headset. “What’s your name?”

“Scarlet Callahan.”

He scans the guest list. “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

Kayla. My skin bristles. I bet she took me off it.

“Let me see.”

Reluctantly, he shows me the long list. It’s arranged alphabetically by last name. Skimming over some celebrity names, I get to the C’s. Sure enough, one of the names is scratched out with a pen, but the letters “S-c-a-r” are still visible.

I point to the name. “This is me... Scarlet Callahan.” And quickly come up with an explanation. “I didn’t think I would make it because of the weather conditions so I called Kayla to take my name off the list.” I flash a smile. “But here I am.”

The bouncer glares at me suspiciously, then says to my relief, “Okay. You can go in.”

Without thanking him, I dash inside.

The gallery is still packed with well-dressed Hollywood types mingling and admiring Finn’s paintings. My eyes search the vast space for Finn. He’s nowhere in sight. Maybe he’s on the second level. I look up but don’t see him. Scanning the main level again, I spot my target in front of one of Finn’s finest paintings.Metamorphosis.In my head, I change things up... switch gears. The predator is now the prey.Myprey. Holding a drink, he’s chatting with a stunning couple. I recognize them instantly. Jaime Zander, the gallery owner, and his statuesque platinum-haired wife, Gloria, the founder and CEO of the lingerie chain, Gloria’s Secret. I recognize them because I happened to have covered a headline-making red-carpet event that became the talk of Hollywood when Gloria shot and killed a Russian thug to save the life of her future husband. With my new identity, I’m sure neither of them will recognize me. Inhaling a fortifying breath, I make my first move and strut over to the painting. Onthe way, I grab a glass of champagne from a passing cocktail waiter. Bubbling with nerves, I need it.

To my relief, the power couple moves away to chat with another that I also recognize. Blake Burns, the head of Conquest Broadcasting where I used to work, and his pretty wife, Jennifer. I seize the moment and make a beeline for Sheldon, while he’s not distracted.

I soak him in. The fat ugly pig! Wearing a smug expression and stuffing his face with hors d’oeuvres. One after another. Slowing my pace to a coquettish gait, I make eye contact with him. A salacious smile wolfs across his face. A small victory for me.

Deliberately crossing by him, I study the painting I know so well and sip my champagne. The bubbly does little to slow down my pulse. It speeds up when a hot breath descends on my shoulder.

“There’s nothing like a woman in a red dress.”

I spin around and face him, meeting him eye to eye. I give him a seductive smile.

“Why, thank you,” I say breathily.

“It takes balls to wear red.”

I silently snicker. Trust me, I have them.

His beady, lustful eyes roam down my body before darting to the painting. “You like this painting?”

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