She checks out the bruising on my jaw, blinking rapidly. “Did he do this to you?” she asks softly.
“Like you don’t already know.” I suck in a deep breath and hold it in my lungs for several beats. “Whatever you want from Cash… I’m not the leverage you thought I was.”
Her eyebrows lower in confusion. “What did George tell you?”
“That he was using me to extort money from the Murrays and take over the Titan.”
“Did he tell you that I was part of the plan?”
“He didn’t need to.” I look away and cuss myself for not being stronger. For not holding her gaze. For being a people pleaser when coming face-to-face with your ex’s fiancée is the worst possible scenario for it.
“You’re right. And I don’t blame you for hating me, Remy.”
I drag my eyes back to her face. When I heard about their engagement, I convinced myself that she was a heartless maneater who took pleasure in stealing other women’s boyfriends. In my head, I pinned her with all kinds of labels, none of which gave me any deep sense of satisfaction. But looking at her now, I wonder if she deserved any of them.
“I don’t hate you.” Hate is a strong word, and Isabella’s punishment is being stuck with the kind of coward who could punch a woman in the face.
She smiles. She has kind eyes. I can almost hear Ariel reminding me that she stole my boyfriend, and for once, I don’t listen.
“Thank you. It’s probably more than I deserve, but I want to explain. Will you let me? Please?”
I glance at the doorway. I don’t hear voices from the other rooms, but it doesn’t mean I can trust her. “Why? Are you waiting for him to come back?”
“If I’ve played my cards right, he won’t be coming back.”
“What about Cash?”
“No one can enter the room, Remy.”
“So, I’m trapped in here with you?” My pulse quickens. I don’t have the energy to hide a second time.
“Please just hear me out, and then you’re free to go.”
Maybe I’ll regret this, but I say, “Okay. But can we sit down?”
“Sure.” Another smile.
“And is there any food through there?”
Isabella pops a can of soda from the mini-bar and hands me a packet of salted peanuts. While I devour the snack and guzzle the drink, she explains how the engagement to George Quinn came about. She talks about arranged marriages as if this isn’t the twenty-first century, talks about her father’s reluctance to hand over the family business to her, and finally recounts the conversation she had with the Murrays in Cash’s boardroom.
When she’s finished, I’ve already licked the salt from my fingers and drained the last of the soda. It’s a lot to take in, and I can’t explain why, but I believe her.
“So… you don’t want to marry him?”
“No.” She shakes her head and slants her eyes at me. “Would you?”
“Fuck no!” But I still don’t understand why she’s telling me this. “Will the Murrays help you?”
She didn’t elaborate on how she wanted them to get rid of George. I can’t think about Cash or Bash murdering anyone in cold blood, so instead I picture them putting him in a rowboat and leaving him in the middle of the ocean without any oars.
“I don’t know if I can rely on them.” She shrugs. “Do you trust them?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and picture the woman Cash is going to marry. “I thought I could trust them.” My voice cracks. “But that was before I met Cash’s fiancée.”
Thin lines appear between Isabella’s brows. “His fiancée? Remy, I have a confession to make. Cash isn’t engaged to someone else.”
I swallow, but the lump in my throat won’t go down. “What do you mean? I saw her. I saw the ring he gave her. She told me… they’re getting married…”
