JUST LET IT BE.
Joyce had just placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, and while distaste nearly had Paul pulling away—
Remember who she is.
Common sense held him back just in time, and he was able to just stay still—
This woman was his wife’s aunt.
—and keep his face expressionless when she finally pulled back.
Andromeda?
She stood a short distance away from them, frozen and strangely pale, and his gaze narrowed.
What’s wrong, koukla mou?
Something was bothering his wife, and once he found out whatever—whoever—it was, he would get rid of it.
Joyce wanted to scream.
She wanted to tear her hair out in rage, wanted to claw at something, wanted to destroy the way she’d been destroyed when that simpering voice on the phone had delivered the news in Monte Carlo.
Paul prefers you to be his aunt instead.
But she was Joyce Bernard.
She did not scream.
She did not lose control.
She turned around, following Paul’s gaze, and of course—of course—it was none other than her own fucking flesh and blood he’d been staring at, and the look on his face, dammit...
It said everything, and her anger hardened into jealous rage.
You little bitch.
Joyce felt something dark and cold crystallize in her chest as she watched her niece approach. Bargain-bin clothes replaced by a dress so damn expensive that even Joyce herself wouldn’t be able to afford it. But so what?
Trash was trash no matter how you dressed it up.
And Joyce would not rest until she had thrown this traitorous piece of trash back into her obscure little town in Kansas, where she was meant to rot for the rest of her life.
Andie finally reached them, and Joyce pasted a smile on her lips without hesitation. She decided then and there that it was her niece whose hair she wanted to tear out, and if she played her cards right, she might just get to do that.
“Aunt J-Joyce—”
Joyce wanted to puke at the way Andie’s stammer had Paul Mitropoulos looking rather fiercely protective.
And here she thought the billionaire was smarter than most, but obviously not.
“Oh, darling, there’s no need to look so worried.” Joyce drew her niece into a hug and barely managed to resist the urge to slap her face. “I’m no sore loser, and after the speech your husband just gave, only an idiot wouldn’t see how dear you are to him.” She then turned to Paul, asking, “I’m sure you already have everything covered, but if you need any help from me with the expected fallout, I can issue a press statement on my niece’s behalf—”
“What fallout?”
The frown on Paul’s face nearly had Joyce doing a little dance. Just as she thought, the little bitch hadn’t been entirely truthful with the billionaire, and Joyce would make sure that Andie’s dishonesty would lead to a quick divorce, minus any kind of alimony.
“Paul—”
