Page 21 of Threaded Lies

“She’d be proud of you for fighting, Rowan. For trying to keep what her family started as much in Rothschild hands as possible.”

Her comment eases an iota of the weight I feel over betraying Gran’s wishes. Let’s just hope this is more than a pipe dream and that I’m able to pull it off.

“It was like I saw that executed contract—Rhett’s and Holden’s signatures on an agreement with none of the changes we’d discussed made—and it dawned on me what a chump I’d been. Everyone’s been playing dirty and without any scruples. I knew I needed to step onto the playing field and jump in the mud with them or just accept that I’ve given it all up.”

“I would have done the same.”

“Yeah, but I keep coming back to the same question. Over and over.”

“What’s that?”

“What is any of this netting me?”

“Time,” she states evenly.

I meet my best friend’s eyes and give the subtlest of nods. “Time?”

“Yes. Time to see if Henry will turn. Time to dig into the dirt Gran left to see who on the board will be the most easily influenced. Time to figure out if this is worth going through. Time to see if your dream was real. You have it all mapped out in your head, but if you don’t think being the second largest owner behind Holden is worth it by October thirteenth, then at least you can walk away and be happy with your $1 million a year for thirty years. It’s not like that’s anything to sneeze at.”

“I’m well aware.” It just doesn’t give me the opportunities that a bulk $30 million would. “Wait. What’s October thirteenth?”

Sloane throws her head back and laughs as I rack my brain to figure out what’s three months from now. But her laugh fades and her expression falls into disbelief when she realizes I’m serious. She eyes me for a beat. “It’s your wedding date.”

It takes me a second to find my words. To grapple with the reality of a date when a ring was hard enough. “I think my stomach just fell to the floor and got trampled by a wild stampede of … something.”

“Then you know exactly how I felt when I found out via a toast being offered at the country club that my dear old friend—you—was engaged.” She lifts her eyebrows.

“I know. I’ve already apologized. Profusely.”

“Although I did find it rather odd you weren’t involved in the toast nor were you anywhere to be found, but … stranger things have happened.”

“Well, at least you questioned it, because it seems no one else has.”

“No one? Really?” She eyes me. “Because I bet your phone has been blowing up and you’re just ignoring it.”

She’s right on all fronts. But if I answer the messages then I have to lie to people who trust me and that’s a tough pill for me to swallow.

“I feel the worst about Victoria. About Catherine,” I say about our other two friends that make up our foursome. “About the egg that will be on my family’s face when we end the marriage after such a short time frame. They are the hardest to lie to about this.”

“Understandably. Who knows the truth?” Sloane asks.

“You. Me. Chad.” Those three syllables sound so lonely.

“Jesus,” she swears like she didn’t already know.

“Yep, I’ll be lying to everyone about everything … because that sits well on my conscience.”

“No one else seems to be bothered by their lying.”

“But not everyone else has the circus my and Chad’s mothers have no doubt already created.”

“Not gonna lie to you. It’s ginormous.”

“Fuck,” I hiss out under my breath. “This isn’t me, Sloane. The lying. The cheating. The deception.”

“You’ve been royally screwed over. You either lie down and die or you fight. You’re fighting and no one will blame you for standing up for yourself. In fact, I think many would admire you. This is Westmore though. A town that favors men and where one bathes in the corruption of whichever last name you were born into.”

“I’m trying to use that to my benefit. Fingers crossed it works.”