She leveled the heel, a threat and a period. “You left me.” The words hit like gravel.
His mouth opened. Nothing.
“You left me,” she said again, stalking closer. “You bailed the second a vulture shoved a mic in my face.”
“I—”
She lifted the heel an inch. “Unless the next word is a damn good excuse, I’m testing this point on your throat.”
Upstairs, the cat let out a noise that sounded disturbingly like bloodthirsty glee.
“I left because I couldn’t risk landing on Melanie Carter’s radar,” he said.
Frankie, to her credit, took the time to mull over his words before frowning. “Because you thought I’d throw you and your brothers under the Melanie-needs-a-story bus? That I’d tell her Gi Gi bought half this town and left it to her sons in her will? That I would spill your secret to save my own pride?” Hurt flickered under the fury. He hated that he’d put it there.
“Not that.” He met her eyes. “Something else.”
“Such as?”
“Melaniefinds what others can’t.” He swallowed.
“And?”
“There are things about me, about us, I worried she might know.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I’m listening.”
The moment of truth. The moment that would turn whatever she felt for him into hate. He exhaled hard. “Frankie—”
“No.” She raised the second heel, dual wielding like a stiletto gunslinger. “You don’t get to Frankie me until you talk.”
The cat sauntered in and curled up to watch.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears like a countdown. “I thought she might know who the shoe hit.”
“Mr. Uptight?”
Again, he nodded, waiting for her to piece it all together.
“How does his identity have anything to do with you?”
“Me.” He forced it out. “I’m Mr. Uptight.”
The kitchen went very quiet. Fridge hum, cat tail swish, her breathing slicing in and out. She blinked once. Twice. “You!” The one-syllable response detonated out of her, causing the cat to scurry off.
He didn’t move. “Yeah.”
“You’re the anonymous crybaby who’s been playing God with my life?”
“I stayed anonymous because…I don’t do public. I avoid cameras and reporters at all costs.”
She stared like he’d rearranged the floor under her feet. “You brought me here. You kissed me here. While you were him—every minute.” Betrayal bloomed behind her eyes. “And tonight, I was the cost for your dodging a little airtime?”
Silence felt safer than the wrong truth.
“If you don’t like reporters, why in the hell were you at Fashion Week? They’re everywhere.”
“I was there to support a family friend. And I disguised myself to avoid cameras.”
