When Stars Collide (Chicago Stars #9) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,100

not enough to hurt him, but enough to establish female solidarity with his wife. “Let’s begin with those notes you sent.”

Marsden started singing like his wife’s canary once had. He’d come up with an idea as an experiment—seeing if he could get into Olivia’s head by sending her the anonymous letters. After a couple of chats with Big Mouth Dennis, he’d learned Olivia seemed to be getting worse, and that motivated him to step up his efforts with the photographs, bloody T-shirt, and the phone call Olivia had gotten when they were hiking. He was behind it all, right up to the moment when Piper mentioned the hotel room break-in and the New Orleans incident.

The guy practically peed his pants. “I’ve never been to New Orleans. I swear. And I didn’t break into any hotel room!” He curled into a ball, afraid Thad would go after him again.

Thad and Piper exchanged a look. Marsden was a coward and a bully—not the kind of guy with the guts to pull off a direct attack or a desert kidnapping. Olivia was still at risk.

* * *

Olivia slept in late the next day. Tonight was the Aida gala, her final obligation to Marchand and the last place she wanted to be after her lackluster performance. Holding her head high and pretending not to overhear any of the whispered conversations about her singing last night would be exhausting. Except . . . she’d be able to see Thad again.

She’d kill him if he brought a date.

He’d bring a date. She knew it. He wasn’t a man who’d ignore any kind of rejection without fighting back.

She needed a date, too. She mentally sorted through possible candidates but couldn’t bear the idea of spending the evening with anyone who was part of the opera world. She could ask Clint, but if she brought him, Thad would think she was trying to rub his face in their breakup when all she wanted was to throw her arms around him and tell him once more she was sorry. He deserved his retribution. She’d choke down her resentment, go alone, and make herself be extra nice to the woman he’d almost certainly bring with him. Even though it would devastate her.

She tried to focus on the positive. It would be good to see Henri again. Paisley had somehow landed her dream job as a personal assistant to one of the Real Housewives, so she wouldn’t be there, but Mariel would. Mariel’s blind ambition to best Henri had grated on Olivia from the beginning. The advertising campaign had been expensive, and if it wasn’t paying off, she’d be gloating over Henri’s remains.

Olivia had to talk to Dennis. He needed to know what his loose lips had cost her. She intended to keep this between the two of them because Rachel would be crushed if she found out the part her husband had played in what had happened.

She texted him.

Call me.

Less than a minute later, her phone rang. It was Rachel. “Now you’re sending secret messages to my husband?”

Olivia thought quickly. “Somebody with a birthday coming up shouldn’t be asking questions.”

“My birthday isn’t for two months.”

“So?”

Rachel laughed. “All right. Here he is.”

He answered quickly. “Hey, pal. What’s up?”

She couldn’t do this with Rachel standing next to him. “Call me when big ears isn’t around. We need to talk.”

Dennis turned his head away from the phone. “She needs to talk to me in private. We have a thing going on.”

Olivia heard Rachel laugh. “If you’re planning a surprise party, I’ll kill you both.”

“Hold on. I’m going into another room.” A few moments later, he’d returned to their conversation. “What’s up? Rachel’s birthday isn’t for two months.”

“This isn’t about her birthday.” She steeled herself. “I’m afraid you and I have a problem . . .”

She laid it out. Everything that had happened and Dennis’s part in it. As the story unfolded, he began stammering apologies. “God, Olivia . . . God, I’m sorry . . . I hate myself . . . Rachel keeps telling me I have a big mouth . . . Jesus, Olivia . . . I never meant . . . Shit . . . I’m sorry . . .”

“No more apologies.” Olivia had heard enough. “You’re a gossip, and your blabbering has threatened my relationship with Rachel. I know wives confide in their husbands, but they expect their husbands to keep their mouths shut. How can I ever again talk openly with her if I know she’ll tell