Then maybe you shouldn’t have told Dean about their affair.
I’m still not sure why I did, aside from the fact that he keeps running back to her, every time Paige snaps her fingers so he obviously cares about her.
Seriously? You’ve known Dean Mercer for two years, Millie—when has he ever displayed care or concern for anyone but himself?
Never.
Admittedly, we don’t spend much time together. Only when Paige decides to bring him to the odd social function or he works the bar at the ones she doesn’t—but when I do see him, he’s usually what I’ve always known him to be. An insufferable asshole who takes great pleasure in needling me, every chance he gets.
That’s not exactly true, though is it? Dean was nice to you once. He?—
Nope.
Not going there.
The point is that’s not who he really is.
He obviously recognized me for who and what I am—a lonely, repressed,wealthywoman.
In other words, an easy target.
Dean Mercer is just as opportunistic and conniving as Paige. No wonder the two of them can’t seem to quit each other.
Exactly—so, explain to me again why you told him that Paige and Allister are sleeping together?
Shit.
Lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I reach for my phone and tap my thumb to the screen. Dozens of texts from Allister. A few from Paige. Scrolling through them, I find the last one, sent only a few minutes ago.
Paige: Hey, are you okay? Allister called me, looking for you. He seemed worried… are you getting cold feet? Do you need to talk?
Talk?
Yes, Paige lets talk about how you’ve been screwing my fiancé behind my back for years now.
Because I still haven’t turned off my read receipts, another text from her pops up before I can put my phone down.
Paige: I was thinking… maybe I can come to the Hawthorne. We can have a slumber party like when we were kids. We could watch movies and order room service. One last night of fun before you’re an old married woman. lol
Reading her text, I can’t decide if I want to laugh out loud or throw up. How many nights have I asked her to do exactly that—just hang out and watch movies with me—only for her to tell me how lame and boring I am? Too many to count. Somany, I stopped asking, but I have to answer her. If I don’t, she’ll know something is going on.
Me: That sounds amazing but I can’t. I’m hip deep in actuation reports for the Bostrom account. Please don’t tell Allister. If he knew the real reason I booked myself in to the Hawthorne and have been MIA is so I can work before the wedding, he’d be upset. I just need to get these numbers finalized before the honeymoon so I can relax and focus all my attention on him while we’re gone.
I finished the actuation reports for the Bostrom account days ago. They’re sitting on my desk, waiting for Alice to take them to my father for review on Monday morning, but she doesn’t know that.
Paige: Oh! Why didn’t you just say so? You didn’t have to go all cloak and dagger on me. When Allister called looking for you, he had this crazy idea that you might be with Dean.
Reading her text, my heart starts to ache for some reason.
Me: Dean Mercer? Don’t be ridiculous.
Paige: Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I’ll see you in the morning?
The ceremony is at 2PM at St. Patrick’s, just a few blocks from here. The hair stylist and make-up artists are supposed to be here at 9AM so we can start getting ready.
Me: Yes! I’m so excited! See you in the morning.
Leaning more toward throwing up at the moment, I hitsend. Scrolling away from my text thread with Paige, I text my assistant, Alice.
