“He can’t keep his hands off me. So stop wasting your time, Linneah. You’re not going to have him. I am.”
At least until my divorce. But Linneah didn’t know of the surprise reveal at the end of the show, that the marriage certificates were actually fake, and I didn’t need any more threats of lawsuits in my life, especially not from Dana for ruining her big production.
“So the bridal portraits—”
“Done?” Chris snarled from the doorway.
I jumped.
“Oh, well, we…”
“It’s not a question,” Chris spat. He had changed into a perfectly tailored suit and was looming dangerously in the doorway. “Don’t forget your coats and bags on the way out.”
“We’ll schedule another meeting,” I said to Addison, starting to kick myself for going off on her. Ivy would kill me if we were fired from this wedding.
“It was so nice to see both of you, and we’ll talk some more about your wedding soon. You’re going to be an amazing bride, Addison!” I said, really laying it on. “I’ve seen the dress designs, and they will look stunning on you. I can’t wait! It’s going to be a dream wedding.”
“It is, isn’t it!” Addison preened, basking in the praise.
She air-kissed me. “We’ll talk, darling.”
Chris slammed the door behind them. Then he turned on me.
“Do not,” he said, voice dangerously low, “bring them here ever again.”
“I didn’t,” I babbled. “They just showed up.”
“I don’t care,” Chris said in a clipped tone. “They are not allowed in my house. Ever.” Then he turned on his heel and went back to his study.
I jumped when the door slammed.
Shit.
Had I fucked up?
44
Chris
Ithink I fucked up. I paced around my study listening for Grace. Was she furious at me? I had interfered with her business. If someone had done that to me, I would have been incensed. Shit, in fact, when Addison and I had been together, she would periodically interrupt me when I was working or in a meeting, just to prove she had the upper hand. I had been livid. Yet here I was.
Hypocrite.
It was just that having Addison in my house dredged up old feelings and hurts that I thought I had long buried.
Don’t let her worm her way into your head.
But she was already there, feeding my paranoia.
But you aren’t paranoid, I reminded myself.You heard Grace.
She had said, clear as day, that I was all hers.
But isn’t that what you want?
I poured myself a scotch to calm my nerves. Ididwant her. Ididwant her to think of me as all hers.
“She didn’t mean it in a gold-digger way,” I assured myself, trying to calm down the desire to storm through the house and yell at her until she told me the truth.
