As the Uber shot away from my street, my gut kept telling me something was wrong. Not dress emergency wrong, but Estelle wrong.

Her desperate voice on the phone had been fake, and the way she'd snapped at me was more exaggerated than usual.

Something about the entire call didn't sit well with me. The sudden nature of it all—it made no sense.

There was no dress emergency, there couldn't be. For the first half of my trip to the dress shop, I verified all my texts and emails from the seamstress—there were no issues. Estelle and Mollie had both tried on their outfits, and so had the bridesmaids. I'd received pictures of them all.

Everything fit. Everything was seamless.

So why would Estelle call me out of nowhere in a panic over an unforeseen dress mishap?

There was no mishap. I'd neglected some of my duties of late and wasn't the most immaculate of wedding planners, but I knew there were no unforeseen dress problems.

In a measure of precaution, I texted Mollie as the Uber driver did her best to race me across town.

Vivienne: Hi, Mollie, Estelle mentioned something about a dress emergency, were you aware?

I hissed at myself immediately after I hit send. It felt like the ultimate betrayal to drag Mollie into all this. Unless it was all true, and Mollie was at the location with Estelle.

But if she wasn't...that'd be proof of some messed-up scheme concocted by Estelle.

To what ends? She'd already ruined me. My entire reputation and career were at her mercy; what more did she want from me? What more could I sacrifice for her?

Why would Estelle haul me across town for a fake emergency?

My phone buzzed.

Mollie: No, I wasn't aware. I thought everything was fine?

"Bingo," I said out loud, as the car zoomed around a corner so fast, I slid sideways, even buckled up. "Hey, what's going on?"

The driver grunted. "You asked for me to hurry, didn't you? Short-cut."

I shrugged and looked down at the screen as Mollie sent another message.

Mollie: Are you headed there now? I assume Estelle called you, but she didn't say a peep to me.

I grinned, though I shouldn't have.

Oh, this reeked of a scheme, all right, and more so if Mollie was intentionally left out of the loop. The dresses were her concern, too. The shop had handled her outfit, so it'd be natural for her to be alerted if there were problems, too.

But she knew nothing about all this, which further warned me that Estelle was up to something.

I hesitated to respond. In truth, I should have begged the Uber driver to turn around and take me back home. But if I didn't show up to Estelle's carefully plotted coup, whatever it was, the consequences would be worse.

If I did show up and saw what she was up to, I could leave without feeling as guilty. I could walk out under the pretext that she'd lied to me.

Vivienne: I'm nearly there, yes. I'll let you know if it's worth showing up for.

Even Mollie knew Estelle had become somewhat of a Bridezilla. I'd seen it in her eyes—she loved her fiancée dearly, but she often winced when Estelle was being boisterous. The few times I'd met with them together, Mollie was quieter, letting Estelle take the reins.

Did Mollie see the same transformation I had? From cool, laid-back St. Tropez Estelle, to the Bridezilla, meddling, cruel L.A. Estelle? Or maybe she was used to this; maybe, after all, this was the real Estelle.

I probably shouldn't have texted Mollie at all, but if she showed up, she'd smooth things over. It'd be up to me to decide whether or not Estelle was out of line.

We arrived too fast at the location. After that text exchange, I'd kind of hoped to be further delayed, to give Mollie a chance to show up before I did, if she decided to show up. She might worry or want to confront her fiancée before I was involved.

I exited the vehicle, thanking the driver, and did my best to look harried, freaked out. If Estelle saw me through the windows and felt that I wasn't hurrying enough, wasn't panicked enough, it might make her yell at me more.

The instant I entered the shop, I knew it'd been an ambush.

The aroma that filtered into my nose was one I recognized all too well. It infested me, bringing on all the memories I'd repressed, all the awful sensations I'd swallowed down.

A scent of someone trying too hard, yearning to be sexy, eager to appeal; and it worked, too. Because she was sexy, and she did appeal.

But she also disgusted me.

Olivia, sitting in the waiting area, lowered the magazine she'd been pretending to read. "Vivi, oh, wow! Fancy seeing you here!" She stood almost in slow-motion, revealing her luscious curves, the dress molding to her perfect figure. It wasn't a daytime outfit; more like something she'd throw on to go clubbing.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I didn't bother hiding the irritation from my tone, and crossed my arms over my chest, remaining near the door.

Heels clacked from up ahead, and I turned to see Estelle walking over, a slow smirk spreading over her lips. Hands on her hips, she walked as if down a runway, ass swaying side to side, chin held high. "She's here because I asked her to be."

Olivia's smirk matched Estelle's. It was eerie how twin-like they were in that moment. Dressed differently, hair styled differently, but that face was identical. Ruse, falseness, pride in their games.

Well, I'd sniffed at the game before it had even started. "Why?" I began to remove my phone from my purse, to text Mollie to get over here.

I wasn't sure what she knew about my situation—or lack thereof, as of recently—with Olivia, but this was a matter she needed to be present for. She needed to see the reason why I kept slacking on better organizing her wedding.

Because her bride-to-be was out to get me, had a personal vendetta against me.

"Because I need you both here," said Estelle, standing in the doorway leading into the fitting rooms. She was so boss-like, stylish and confident and poised, I might have been in awe of her were she anyone else but the woman bullying me on a daily basis.

My pulse was erratic, my brain loading with all the words I craved to throw at her but couldn't. "If it's a dress emergency," I side-eyed Olivia, narrowing my gaze, "then she doesn't need to be here."

Olivia, more smug than I'd ever seen her, straightened up her posture, sticking her chest out as far as she could muster. She took up space, demanding that all the air in the room come to her. Typical. "Well, since I'm doing the makeup, and the makeup has to go with the dress, then..." She puckered her lips and batted her lashes at me. "I do need to be here, darling."

"Darling?" Rage bubbled up in my mouth. My heart raced to the point of making me dizzy, but if I sat down, if I showed any sign of weakness, they'd both pounce. I was in the presence of two overpowering felines who both wanted their way—I was in the minority.

"Sorry, does that make you uncomfortable?" Olivia took one sensuous step forward, revealing the slit in her dress, up to her upper thigh. "I aim to keep things professional, always."

"Professional," I scoffed, "and that's why you tried to finger me at the bride's bachelorette party, yeah?"

Estelle let out a low ohhh, covering her mouth, eyebrows inching up. It was fake surprise; she knew what had happened, of course. She was only here for the drama, an audience member gauging herself on popcorn as she watched the spectacle.

She'd done this. On purpose. Summoned me here under the guise of an emergency, only to reunite me with Olivia. This was the only way, after all; I'd blocked Olivia's number.

And naturally, Olivia wouldn't give up trying to get me back. She was a stubborn bitch who didn't quit until she got what she wanted.

She usually succeeded...but not today. Not with me.

"Not like you stopped me," she said, studying her nails, her lips quirking slightly upwards as she fixed her gaze on me. "Not until Mr. Levine interrupted, that is."

Correct as she was, I wouldn't feed into her tricks. I said nothing, only scowling between her and Estelle.

"Ah, and that's my cue," mumbled Estelle, spinning around and disappearing into the fitting rooms.

I made to go after her, but Olivia slid in front, blocking me. "So...what's new?"

I growled, arms tensing at my sides as I held back from shoving her out of my way. I wasn't normally violent, not physically, but the way Olivia tested me...

"Don't you fucking dare," I said, close to a whisper. My throat was on fire, my belly so upset I worried I was about to spew its contents. But if that meant doing so all over Olivia's fancy-as-fuck dress...

Estelle drew us both here to screw with me. She'd left me in the dark, but she told Olivia what she wanted, what she'd planned. It was so clear, so stupidly obvious, and I'd come running because I was the wedding planner.

I'd had no choice.

I twisted around, bracing to walk away from her, yet again. The store's door had remained open, the fresh air outside, away from her toxicity, calling my name...

But as I took my first step towards the door, she flurried over and blocked that way, too.

"Where are you going? We have things to discuss, you and I."

Her body wasn't bulky enough to fully bar my escape, but if I approached, she'd use it against me. Her hot, tempting body; those breasts pushed together, round and lovely. I couldn't see it at that moment, but I remembered her ass, firm and jiggly when she walked.

Yeah, she was enticing, and always would be, but it was over. I'd erased her from my life, for good. She was no longer my concern, no longer a person I'd ever care about.

"Dress issues? Because that's the only reason I'm here." I didn't move, didn't even look at her to avoid being entranced by her eyes. She was a fucking sorceress, and I wasn't immune, but I had to fight her appeal.

She giggled. "Come on, sweetheart. There's no dress issue. You know better."

I did know better. "I never should have gotten out of that car."

"But you did." She bristled forward, making to grab my hands; I backed away, snarling. "And you can hiss at me all you want, but it's fate, isn't it? You, me, here at the same time?"

"It's not fate, it's Estelle and her manipulations," I said, keeping my voice as low as I could.

I searched around for some means to distract her, but saw nothing but expensive wedding gowns and mannequins I might be able to use to knock her out—

No, I wouldn't hurt her, much as I craved to. There had to be some way to talk her into letting me go. Even if that meant lying, if that meant stooping to her level for one second.

She poked her hip out, posing in front of me, eyes roving up and down my body. "Pretty casual today, hm?"

A fire burned in my chest. "Are you criticizing me? I thought you were trying to woo me?"

Another girlish, fake-as-fuck giggle from her. "It was a statement, nothing more. I like you in whatever you're wearing, baby, more so if you're not wearing anything at all—"

"Stop." I held out my hand before she could make her move. She'd try to corner me like she had at her store, try to seduce me into kissing her when that was the last thing I wanted to do. Yes, my body desired her, but I refused to give in to that urge.

Oh, she was good, I'd admit as much. But fury and disappointment charged me up and I was alert, anticipating her moves.

She adjusted her boobs, grabbing at them slowly and languorously, licking her lips. "Come on, baby, let's put all this crap behind us, okay?"

"Don't you dare fucking call me baby." I flipped around, but all too late realized it was more dangerous to expose my backside—

Thankfully, Estelle resurfaced, and I raced up to her. I wouldn't let her rush off and hide this time.

I meant to grab her shoulders and shake her, but refrained at the last second, instead getting deep into her personal space, my nose near crushing into hers. "What the fuck is your agenda, Estelle?" It was likely too bold and would get me in trouble, but I'd had enough of this fucked-up game.

To her credit, she didn't recoil from my unrequited proximity. "I'm reuniting two people who need to kiss and make up, okay?" She lifted one shoulder, raised her chin, elevating her stature. "You can't be with my brother; that's my doing. So the least I can do is set you up with someone who cares."

"Someone who cares?" It took all my might not to scream at her. "You think Olivia is someone who cares?"

"I do!" Olivia's mousy voice came from behind me, devoid of all the confidence she'd infused into it earlier.

I ignored her. "It's none of your business," I said to Estelle, keeping my tone as flat as I could.

"You nearly married my brother; I think it is my business," she replied, rigid, unfeeling as ever. Not even a mention of my impolite demeanor.

She could hold this against me, for sure. But I was too furious to care. Little did she know, I had married her brother, and there was no going back on that.

"This isn't your concern," I said, jabbing a finger to my chest, "it's mine."

"It is," she took one menacing step forward, into my space, "if my brother's involved."

"Well, he's not anymore, is he? You made that happen."

Her eyes were like slits, depths of darkness beyond them. "I did, and I don't regret it. What I do regret is not pushing you back into her arms." She gestured at Olivia, who wallowed somewhere behind us. It shocked me she hadn't slithered over to put in her two cents, yet. "We'd have never gone through all this bullshit, and my relationship with my brother wouldn't be so strenuous."

I wanted to huff, wanted to snicker at her, but to know she and Axel's relationship was tense was enough of a punishment.

I shook my head and backed away. "I'm your wedding planner, and I'll bend over backwards for your special day, as I'm paid to. But," I set my fists behind my back, "I need you to understand how deeply I loathe you right now, Estelle. There's a contract between us, and I'll honor it, but know that your interventions and schemes have broken not just my heart, but your brother's."

She blinked at me, dismissing my pain, her sibling's, remaining proud of her plots. "And?"

"This isn't an emergency," I said, still striding backwards, passing Olivia as I did. I pointed at her. "There's no way in hell I'm getting back with her, no matter how much you pay her to grovel. And I'm no longer falling for these games you keep playing. This cruelty you keep tossing at me. Enough, Estelle. You're getting married in two days, for fucks' sake. Let me finish planning, walk down the aisle, and we don't have to speak to each other ever again, okay?"

I cringed as I twisted away from her, knowing full well I'd lied. We might be able to avoid each other, but Axel was a family guy—he'd want to see her, and his other siblings, at holidays and such.

When I passed the threshold of the store—surprised she hadn't followed me to berate me—I almost bumped into someone else, who'd been at the door. I passed by this person, and gasped as I recognized them.

The other bride.

I froze. "Mollie?"

She'd showed up. And from the looks of her—watery eyes, a frown, a certain tenseness to her posture—she'd overheard most of our conversation.

We hadn't been quiet; we'd been yelling. There was no one else in the store, so I saw no need to be cautious who might be listening.

Estelle's fragile voice came from behind me. "Mollie? Baby? What are you doing here?"

Mollie glanced at me. "Go. I'll handle this." She nudged me out of the way as she entered the shop, addressing her fiancée. "Where's the dress emergency? And why is Olivia here?"

I barreled down the street, far from the shop, far from the argument likely to come. I'd said my piece, and I'd stand by it. It was Mollie's turn to speak up, and I prayed she'd address Estelle's behavior appropriately.

I ordered an Uber, unsure whether I'd have a job in the morning.

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