“I’m out,” I say. “Look, I’ll talk to you later, okay? And don’t worry about me. That’s not your job.”
“Worrying is both of our jobs,” she says. “We’re family.”
“Yeah,” I say. And then, thinking about what she told me a few months ago—how she felt like my protectiveness smothered her—I add, “Thank you. You’re happy?”
“Yes. I’m still happy,” she says. “I promise. It’s not going to change between our phone calls.”
“Good,” I say. “Talk later. And I’ll keep asking.”
I hang up and turn my phone off, then slide it deep inside my duffel bag. I quickly kick off my shoes. The fights are always barefoot. We wear nothing but a pair of shorts. The deep red scar across my torso from all those years ago is barely visible in the darkness of the room. There’s no one here who would care, anyway. No one here who would ask me where I got it.
I roll my neck again and push through the crowd to facethe man I’m fighting tonight. The crowd cheers when I step through the open door of the cage. My opponent is already there. He’s my height, maybe five years older, hands untaped and eyes focused.
A newcomer,I guess.He’s doing this for kicks.
The cage door shuts behind us, and the referee’s voice rings out. The storm around me fades away and sharpens into this single moment.
I raise my fists.
CHAPTER 9
PAIGE
“A Marriage of Money: How Mather & Wilde finally lost the fight to Maison Valmont.”
“A hunter in tailored suits? Rafe Montclair will do anything, including arranging a marriage, to expand his empire.”
“The King and his newly bought Queen: How luxury’s first family negotiated a marriage of convenience.”
“How Mather & Wilde finally sold its independence—and its heiress.”
Each headline is worse than the one before. I read them all obsessively in bed, the early sun seeping through the curtains. Clicking open an article brings with it a picture of Rafe in a suit, leaving the Valmont headquarters in Paris.
His face shows no expression.
Below is a cursive sentence.The King keeps winning.
It makes my teeth grind. Article after article details our marriage, and none of it is flattering. In the same article, there is a passage that makes my eyes sting.
Paige Wilde was bribed with shares and promises, a source close to Mather & Wilde says. Her uncle, Ben Wilde, was ousted the very same day. She always wanted the top position, the source continues, and allying herself with the one company her family has resisted for over a decade is a betrayal no one in the company will forgive.
My chest tightens like there’s a weight planted on top. I didn’twantto do this. I neverwantedto hand Rafe a win, or for the rift with my uncle to expand miles wide.
But I didn’t have a choice.
I tried to change Ben’s mind for years. Change his excesses before they turned into extravagance. But he didn’t listen. He would have driven the company into the ground instead of selling to Maison Valmont. He would rather every single person we employ go without a job than swallow his pride.
But the media doesn’t know that.
Or maybe they do, but nuance doesn’t sell copies, and salacious headlines do.A close source.It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s my uncle himself.
I click on another article.
It says Rafeboughtme. That I’m Montclair’s latest shiny accessory. The only small silver lining is that as bad as it makes me look, it doesn’t make him look much better. I’m a sell-out, but he’s ruthless.Are there no lines he won’t cross?the article asks.
Notification after notification rolls in on my phone. My friends back home are asking me if it’s true. Everything happened so fast that I didn’t tell anyone but Amy. I didn’t know how to.By the way, I’m on a flight to Italy with my new husband. Long story, but I’ll see you in the fall. Love you!
I ignore most of them.
