Pitch Perfect Lies

Chapter 3

Naomi Carter stepped out into the crisp night air after the staged engagement dinner with Ethan Blake. The night air was cold, and she rubbed her arms against the chill. That’s when she saw him: a figure hunched under a streetlamp across the quiet sidewalk.

He was broad-shouldered with a heavy coat. He shifted on his feet, scanning the dark street. Naomi’s pulse quickened. For just a moment, his posture mirrored someone she’d glimpsed in the restaurant’s reflection, someone watching them. Her stomach turned. The stranger stood still, his presence too deliberate.

Before Naomi could step back further, Ethan appeared at her side, his presence both soothing and alarming. “Everything okay?” he asked softly, straightening her hair. His tuxedo was perfectly tailored, and his eyes, so easy now, betrayed none of the concern Naomi felt.

There in the glow of the streetlamp, Naomi tried to hide her fear. She nodded at the man across the street. “I… I thought I saw someone,” she whispered, voice low.

Ethan’s gaze flickered. “Who?”

Naomi’s voice caught. The man had disappeared. “Over there, by the brick wall.”

Ethan scanned the sidewalk again. Nothing. He slipped an arm around her, guiding her gently toward the sleek black town car waiting curbside. “You’re tired. Let’s go home,” he said.

Naomi forced a smile. “Yes, maybe I am.”

In the back of the car, Naomi settled into the leather seat, clutching her bag. Ethan slid in opposite her as the driver pulled away. She watched his reflection in the window. Ethan appeared calm, but she sensed he was alert to her tension.

He caught her eye in the rearview. “It’s nothing but city night,” he said, offering a reassuring smile. “You looked like you saw a ghost.”

Naomi swallowed hard, her breath settling. “Just someone heading home.” Her voice was quiet. The streetlights danced over her face; outside, there was no sign of the stranger.

He nodded. “Right. It’s late. We should get some rest. Big day tomorrow at the gala.”

“Gala?” Naomi repeated, heart skipping. Almost everyone involved in the merger was expecting them at that charity event. This was the last thing she needed to worry about now. But what choice did she have?

When the car arrived at her building, Ethan opened her door. On the threshold, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good night, Detective,” he teased softly, referencing the concern in her eyes.

Naomi felt her cheeks warm. “Good night,” she replied, accepting his teasing. Then Ethan walked off into the night.

Once inside, Naomi closed and locked the door, exhaling shakily. Her heart was still pounding. Someone had been waiting outside the restaurant. Who, and why?

She poured a glass of water and ran cold fingers over the countertop. The fake engagement between her and Ethan Blake was on everyone’s radar… except it was supposed to be just a corporate secret. If someone else knew or suspected that the spell would break.

Naomi scanned her contacts. She hesitated before dialing Marcus Geller, her detective brother-in-law. “Marcus,” she said into the phone, playing relaxed. “Did anything show up on the camera feeds near Alouette around 11 PM?”

After a moment, Marcus replied, “I’ll check. Stay inside. Did you see someone?”

“Maybe,” Naomi said quietly. “Someone was under the streetlamp when we left. He disappeared as soon as I noticed him.”

Another pause. “I’ll check valet records and the video. Be careful, Naomi.”

“Thanks.” She hung up and sat on the couch.

Minutes later, her phone buzzed. Marcus had texted a note: Valet log at 11:10 PM – Ethan Blake’s car. Lydia Baker, personal assistant, called it in.

Naomi’s skin prickled. Lydia Baker was Ethan’s trusted assistant. Why was she at the restaurant at that exact time?

Marcus called back. “I checked Alouette’s street cam,” he said. “A man fitting your description was there, but the angle’s blurry. However, it matches the timing. Something’s up.”

Naomi’s head swiveled. “And Lydia?” she asked. “Why would she be there?”

“Not sure yet,” Marcus said. “She said she had a late meeting with Ethan. I’ll keep digging.”

Naomi set her phone aside, mind racing. The gala tomorrow, the merger, the secret, everything felt suddenly fragile. But she couldn’t panic, not publicly.

****

The next morning, Naomi awoke feeling unrested. Morning light filtered in as she sat up, heart thumping from dreams of shadows. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay focused.

In her kitchen, Naomi poured coffee and checked her emails. On the wall hung the midnight-red gown she would wear tonight. She touched the pearls Ethan had given her, then slipped into business attire for the day.

At the office over lunch, coworkers chattered about the gala preparations. Naomi smiled and added little comments about the event, but inside her mind raced with that night’s mystery.

Her phone lay on her desk with Marcus’s number unread. Lydia’s name echoed in her thoughts. Who in Ethan’s circle would do this?

Naomi forced herself through afternoon meetings. She had to seem completely normal. By 6 p.m., she had wrapped up and headed home to prepare for the gala.

At her apartment, Naomi changed into the gown. Claire adjusted her hair. “You look stunning,” Claire said, standing back.

Naomi gave a wan smile, feeling anxious beneath the composed surface. “Thanks. I… have a weird feeling. I can’t be distracted tonight.”

Claire frowned. “Distracted by what?”

Naomi chose her words carefully. “Someone’s poking around where they shouldn’t. I don’t want to give them any excuse.”

Claire looked thoughtful. “Should I call security?”

Naomi shook her head. “Not yet. If I bring this up openly, everyone will notice something’s wrong.”

Claire agreed. “Okay. Just promise me you'll be careful.”

Naomi nodded. “Cross my heart.”

A flash from the grand ballroom lit the doorway. Time to go.

*****

As Naomi stepped into the golden glow of the ballroom, the familiar buzz of clinking glasses and whispered gossip washed over her. She pasted on a smile, scanning the crowd, but her gaze caught on something odd near the bar.

A man in a charcoal suit stood still, too still, his eyes locked on her with unsettling intent. He wasn’t mingling. He wasn’t drinking. He was watching. And when their eyes met, he didn’t look away.

Naomi’s breath caught.

Then he slipped something back into his pocket, something small, metallic, and unmistakably marked with the Leon & Co. emblem.

Her heart thudded. That wasn’t a party favor. That was a restricted access key.

Who was he?

And how the hell did he get that?