He studies me closely, then a lopsided smile appears. “Mind games won’t work with me, Remy. I bet you told him that I did that to you, huh?” If his hands weren’t cuffed, he would point to the bruising on my swollen jaw.
I quell the urge to yell at him. I would normally ask what Ariel would do in an uncomfortable situation. But unless she’s keeping some humungous secrets from her best friend, her experience doesn’t stretch to holding a conversation with the guy who kidnapped her and punched her in the face.
Instead, I think about Isabella, the way she holds herself upright. The way she raises her chin in defiance of whatever the world has thrown at her. The way she placed my hand over the baby in her belly.
“You did do this.” My steady voice doesn’t belie the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “But that isn’t why I’m here.” Pick your battles, Remy.
I almost cave when his eyes seek out Terry, and he says, “For the record, she’s lying. She was already hurt when I found her.”
Terry moves so quickly, I don’t register it until George’s seat is toppled backwards, his feet swinging midair. Terry’s hand is around his throat.
“Lie to me again, and I won’t be held responsible for my actions. Got it?”
A garbled sound emits from George.
Terry rights his chair and brushes imaginary specks of dust from George’s shoulders. “Treat the lady with respect.” Then he backs away to his corner.
George is still trying to catch his breath. His face is flushed, and there are red weals around his neck.
I wait for him to regain his composure. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, about how you used me to?—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He cuts me off mid-sentence.
“Sure, you do. You told me?—”
“I told you nothing. Whatever game you’re playing, Remy, I’ll deny it all the way.” He turns watery eyes to Terry. “I think we’re done here.”
“We’re done when I say we’re done.” Terry’s voice is cold.
George is getting antsy. If I don’t speed this up, he’ll cause another commotion and make sure that Terry escorts me from the room.
“I haven’t offered you my congratulations yet.”
“Congratulations?” The skin puckers around his pinched lips. “What the fuck are you talking about now?”
“The baby. I hear that you and Isabella are having a baby together.”
His eyes flick towards Terry and back again as if gauging how far he can push this without getting hurt. “Nice try, Remy.”
“So, she isn’t pregnant?” I furrow my brow and feign confusion. “I thought?—”
“Whatever you thought, you’re wrong. Isabella isn’t pregnant.”
“Wow.” I blink several times. “I got that wrong. I guess you can’t trust everything you read on social media.”
“Where on social media?” Finally, he bites. “I need my cell.” This is for Terry. “I have to nip this in the bud before it goes viral.”
“Why?” I shrug. “You’re getting married, so what’s the problem?”
“Get me out of here.” His voice rises a notch. “I need to get out of here now. Help!”
“No one can hear you,” Terry says. “The basement is soundproofed.”
George’s eyes dart around the room. “Remy, I need you to help me. Give me your phone.”
“I don’t have my phone. When I woke up, drugged, in your executive suite, it was gone.”
“Funny. Stop fucking around and give me your phone.” He stares at my dress as if I’m concealing my cell phone inside an invisible pocket. “Now, Remy.”
