“You can have Jeremiah handle this,” he says.
I curl my lashes and apply mascara. “Bianca’s my problem.” I’m surprised at how calm I sound. But it’s as though the emotional explosion last night wrung me of pain, leaving nothing but numbness. “I want to deal with her myself first.”
“You want to know why she did it.”
I pause for a moment. That wasn’t the conscious why, but I realize he’s right. I deserve to know the reason she betrayed me. “Yes.”
“You’ll never understand her. People who do things like this to their best friends don’t think or feel like we do.”
“But I’m not going to get closure if I don’t talk to her.” I run red lipstick over my mouth, then put it down on the vanity. “This is for me, so I can close this chapter.”
“She may give you a sob story to get you to forgive her.”
He believes in evening the scales. And fighting. He’d never let somebody screw with him and get away with it. He even forced his family to hand over control over their trusts.
“I won’t. I promise.” Even if Bianca has a really good reason—although I can’t imagine what that would be—we can never go back to how it used to be. She didn’t just burn that bridge. She nuked it.
“If you need anything, call me.” He regards me like a small child about to dip her toes into an adult pool for the first time.
“I’ll be fine.” I’ll have to be.
After giving Sebastian a kiss and wishing him a good day, I say good morning to James and climb into the Cullinan. I check my texts and agenda like there’s nothing wrong.
But I struggle to focus and finally put my phone down. As James drives to Peery Diamonds, I recall how shocked I was that That Stalker didn’t chase me when I was eloping. Or follow all of us to the steakhouse after the ceremony. Sebastian’s right about me not beingthatfamous. His father is a far more significant celebrity, but he didn’t have paparazzi harassing him.
I didn’t look at all the emails and texts extracted from Bianca’s laptop and phone, but she might’ve been behind the video that made me look like a dog kicker. It was one of the worst periods of my life with so many people attacking me online. Some even cussed me out in person.
Bianca always told me it would be best to ignore them because nothing good would come of it. Lawsuits draw attention. She said that’s what my lawyers said, too. I wonder if she asked them at all.
But then she overplayed her hand. Eventually I got fed up with lawyers who always said no and hired Jeremiah Huxley myself. And Jeremiah has always contacted me directly, bypassing Bianca. She said she didn’t like going through an assistant on legal matters, in case of miscommunication or misinterpretation.
Thank God.
When I step onto my floor, Bianca’s at her desk. She’s in a pretty blue Dior dress I bought for her birthday last year. Her necklace is a stunning platinum and sapphire pendant I commissioned to celebrate our friendship when we graduated from college.
Did she feel any guilt accepting them? Or did she laugh at how stupid and gullible I was?
“Hey, good morning,” she says, flashing a smile. “You feeling better?”
No. “Much.” I force a smile. It’s amazing what humans can achieve. The air still feels like it’s full of broken glass, but I can will myself to behave like I’m just fine. “By the way, can you have security send a couple of guards up to my office? And I also need you in there, too.”
“Yeah, sure.” She gives me a quick, curious look, then picks up the phone.
Even now, she doesn’t suspect I know. The possibility has probably never entered her mind. Is she laughing inwardly?
My stomach burns. I enter my office and put my purse on the desk. I grab a bottle of icy water from the mini-fridge, twist the cap open and guzzle it down.
By the time I’ve managed to suck down about half the bottle, she walks in. “So. What’s this about?”
“Close the door and have a seat.” I gesture at the chair she likes to take.
She sits casually, crossing her legs. Her pink lips curve into a smile. All innocent. All friendly.
Why did you do it? Did you ever feel guilty? Are you sorry? Did our friendship mean anything to you?
So many questions spin around in my head, but I don’t voice any of them. I remain standing and finish the rest of the water, then drop the empty bottle into the trash bin. It makes a clattering noise.
She finally notices something’s off. “Is everything okay?”
