A Marriage of True Minds: A Sasha McCandless Novella Read Online Free

Sasha twisted to see over her shoulder and had to admit that the twin
lengths of ribbon added a whimsical touch.
    Judging by the
murmur of the other women in the room, she wasn’t alone in that opinion.
    A soft knock
punctuated the oohing and ahhing .
    “That better not
be Leo,” Riley said, putting down her champagne flute and hustling over to the
door to answer it.
    She opened it a
sliver, just enough for Sasha to catch a glimpse of a curtain of glossy black
hair.
    “Yes?” Riley
asked in a voice that managed to convey beat it , despite being perfectly
polite.
    “It’s okay,”
Sasha called, “it’s Aroostine. Let her in already.” She raised an arm to wave
the woman in, carefully, unsure of her available range of motion while Marisole
fussed with the ribbon.
    Aroostine ducked
her head in apology as she entered the room.
    “You look
breathtaking,” she said.
    Sasha shook her
head. “I think taking a breath is going to be off-limits if these two have any
say.” She gestured to the wedding coordinator and the seamstress. “The plan
seems to be to sew me into this thing. I guess I’m on my own getting out of
it.”
    Charlotte choked
back a giggle, but Marisole threw Sasha a hairy eyeball.
    Aroostine
grinned. “I think that’s the groom’s job. Listen, I’m really sorry to intrude.
I’m actually looking for Naya.”
    At that,
Marisole stood and removed the final pin from her mouth. She waited for
Charlotte’s nod of approval and then said, “To finish this off, I must go back
to my workroom and get the thin ivory thread, yes? You, do not move.”
    She scooted
around Aroostine and headed for the door, pausing once to admire her handiwork.
“ Magnifique ,” she muttered to herself before she disappeared into the
hallway.
    Naya turned from
the heap of water-blue silk shantung sheaths that she was arranging, organizing
the bridesmaids dresses with their shoes, bags, and jewelry, so that the group
could swoop in and get ready the next day in a tactical strike. “What’s up?”
she said to Aroostine with a preoccupied frown.
    “I need my
phone.”
    The frown
morphed into a full-fledged glare of death.
    Uh-oh.
    Sasha opened her
mouth to intervene, but Aroostine was no stranger to pissed-off legal
assistants.
    “Listen, Naya, I
agree with you. As a society, we’ve become obsessed with being plugged in to
the point that we’re tuned out. Our constant need to check Facebook has eroded
daily social interactions, let alone sacred once-in-a-lifetime events. I get
it.” Aroostine spoke softly but with passion. Sasha bet she delivered a
phenomenal closing argument.
    Unfortunately
for her, her jury of one was not easily swayed.
    “But?” Naya
crossed her arms over her chest.
    “But,” Aroostine
hesitated, cutting her eyes over to the knot of women gathered around Sasha’s
mother and dropping her voice. “Something’s happening. Something bad.”
    “What are you
talking about? What’s happening?” Sasha interjected while Naya put aside her
clipboard and rummaged through her bag for the phone.
    “I don’t have
any details. Hank Richardson apparently managed to keep his phone out of Naya’s
hot little hands—”
    “He’s
second-in-command of whatever scary-sounding federal agency he works for. He
needs his phone,” Naya protested.
    Sasha arched a
brow. “Hank rates an exception, but I don’t?”
    “He isn’t trying
to keep tabs on his cat. Also, he threatened to shoot me.”
    Sasha shrugged.
That sounded like Hank.
    “Anyway,” Aroostine
continued, “he got an urgent call. He found me on the dance floor and told me I
need to call into my supervisor and then meet him in the kitchen.”
    Sasha’s pulse
ticked up a beat as she tried to work through what sort of event would
implicate both Hank’s shadowy covert operations group and Aroostine’s
office—the Department of Justice’s Criminal Division—after hours on a holiday
weekend. Her brain spit out a half-dozen possibilities: none of