The Magnate's Marriage Merger. Joanne Rock

       Three

      He knew.

      Lydia felt her skin chill despite the bright South Beach sun warming the thin canopy of silk overhead. For a long moment, she only heard the swoosh of waves far below the rooftop terrace, the cry of a few circling gulls and her own pounding heart.

      “That’s what this is about?” she managed finally, shoving off the deep couch cushions to pace the lounge area near the hot tub. “You found a way to play a role in the same design project as me so you could confront me with this?”

      “You don’t deny it then?”

      “I played a childish game of revenge after we broke up, Ian. You caught me. But it hardly did any damage when you never actually went on a date with any of those women.” She’d started her matchmaking career out of spite. She wasn’t proud of it, but she had been in a very dark place emotionally.

      “No. But I also didn’t post my profile on that matchmaking site, as I tried to tell you from the start. My grandfather’s assistant ran the photo and the profile after Grandad twisted my arm about marriage.” Ian unfolded himself from his place on the couch to stand, though he did not approach her. “So my grandfather personally reviewed your suggestions that I date...those women.” His jaw flexed with annoyance.

      She’d sent ridiculous dating suggestions to the manager of Ian’s profile. She’d been furious to discover he had an active profile on a popular dating website while she’d been falling in love with him. And his refusal to understand why she was upset, his infuriatingly calm insistence that it meant nothing, had shredded her.

      She’d been tired and overly emotional at the time, but she’d credited it to her broken heart and deep feelings for him. Only a week later, she’d discovered she was pregnant.

      “I was hurt by your cavalier dismissal of my concerns.” She moved toward the glass half wall, taking comfort from the sight of the ocean and the relentless roll of incoming waves. “It was petty of me.”

      “My grandfather was the one who was disappointed.” Ian stalked closer, his broad shoulders blocking her view of the water. “But your temporary anger with me doesn’t explain why you deceived my younger brother into thinking he was meeting a potential bride, only to have the woman turn out to be completely unaware of his existence.” Cool fire flashed in Ian’s eyes as he studied her. “It’s one thing to lash out at me. But my family?” He shook his head slowly. “No.”

      “That was an accident.” Her temples throbbed with the start of a tension headache as this meeting quickly spiraled out of control. “A genuine accident. Although it didn’t help that Cameron signed a waiver saying he didn’t care if the matches had been vetted—”

      “He clicked a button online to agree to that. Hardly the same as signing something.”

      “But my assistant explained to him—”

      “An assistant who impersonated you, by the way.”

      Which was something Lydia regretted tremendously. But she’d handed off Cameron McNeill as a client because she hadn’t been ready to face Ian’s brother with her emotions still raw where Ian was concerned. By the time she’d realized the error in Cameron’s match, it was too late to fix it. Jumping in to deal with the aftermath would have meant facing Ian in person—and she hadn’t been ready for that at a time when she’d only just started to recover emotionally from the miscarriage.

      “I am sorry about that.” She pivoted to face him head-on. “I really weighed the options for getting involved after I realized what had happened. But would you really have wanted me to step in when Quinn and Sofia had already announced an engagement? I didn’t want to undermine whatever was happening between them by drawing even more attention to the mismatch with Cameron.” She’d followed the courtship of Sofia Koslov and Quinn McNeill closely and it had been obvious to her from the photos of them together that they were crazy about each other. “And yes, I was trying to protect my identity. My work had become very important to me by then.”

      “Very important or very lucrative?”

      “Both.” She refused to be cowed by him. Straightening to her full height she narrowed her gaze. “I put one hundred percent of the profits after expenses from matchmaking toward a very worthy cause.”

      “Moms’ Connection.”

      His quick reply unsettled her. How much did he know about her life in the past year? Her shoulders tensed even tighter.

      “How did you know that?”

      He rested an elbow on the railing, relaxing his posture.

      “That’s actually one of your less well-guarded secrets. I hired a friend to learn the identity of Mallory West in the hope of sparing Cameron any further embarrassment.” Ian shrugged a shoulder. “And to spare Sophia Koslov further embarrassment, since Cameron’s potential bride turned out to be the love of Quinn’s life.”

      “I read about that. I’m glad that some good came out of the situation.” She hesitated a moment before deciding to press on. “You hired someone to find me?”

      What else did he know about the last year of her life? Worry knotted her gut, but she had to hope that the confidentiality of her medical records had withstood his investigation.

      “I wasn’t expecting to find you, Lydia. I hired someone to track Mallory West.” His words were clipped. “I can’t begin to describe my surprise at discovering you’d had a hand in my affairs ever since you broke things off with me last summer.”

      “You gave me no choice,” she reminded him, remembering the sting of seeing his smiling, handsome face on a friend’s page of potential matches on the Mates International dating site. “You not only betrayed me, you did so publicly. If we’d been dating in Manhattan instead of Rangiroa, I can only imagine the fallout.” She needed to leave now. To escape whatever dark plans he had in mind by following her to South Beach and insinuating himself back into her life. “But thankfully, that wasn’t the case and the rumors of our affair died quickly enough.”

      Pivoting on her heel, she retrieved her tote bag, prepared to request an Uber.

      “I just have one question.” Ian followed her across the private terrace, his arms folded over his broad chest as he walked.

      “I’m listening.” She found her phone and clutched it in one hand.

      “Why do all the profits go to a charity benefiting single mothers?”

      It was on the tip of her tongue to lie. To tell him that it was a way to help women like her mother, who’d allowed being a single parent to turn her into a bitter person.

      But she knew that he wouldn’t believe her. He knew her better than that, understood the complex and difficult relationship she had with her mom.

      “I met a few women who worked with the group.” That was true. Still, her mouth went dry and the heat was beginning to get to her. This whole day was getting to her.

      No.