Page 22 of Threaded Lies

“And the board seat you net with Miriam LLC?” she asks, mentioning Gran’s private company my grandfather set up years ago. One that gave her a 5 percent stake in the company she wasn’t allowed to take part in.

“The way your Gran has it in the documents you showed me is that the seat and ownership are transferred to you upon marriage too.”

“So yet another thing I net by going through with this whole Chad charade.”

“One could look at it that way, yes.”

“But I am able to remain anonymous?”

Her smile is quick and disarming. “That’s the best part. You are. Once you inherit full ownership of Gran’s company, then you could vote via proxy on all board matters. Just like no one knows Miriam LLC is actually Gran’s company, no one has to know it’s yours either.”

“She was a sneaky little bitch, wasn’t she?”

“Anonymous ownership. Blackmail material. Yes, she was, and I love her for it.”

“Me too,” I murmur and smile at the advantages she left me, regardless of the ridiculous parameters she attached to them.

Sloane finally takes a seat across from me. “Should we get to what you’re not telling me?”

“What’s that?”

“How you’re doing.”

“Fine. Great.” My smile is tight.

“You’re full of shit, Rothschild. You wear your heart on your sleeve most days for those who care enough to see it … and yours is broken.”

Emotion claws its way up my throat and burns. “We’re not talking about that.”

“I don’t know why I’m struggling to believe he really screwed you over. It seemed like you two were…”

“Yeah. I know. But I saw that contract plain as day. Signed by both of them. No changes made. No promises kept. Not a fucking word said as he took me on a whirlwind weekend in Manhattan.”

“His guilt tour.” She sneers.

“Exactly.”

“Fucker.”

“I believe a lot more adjectives are needed, but yeah, that about sums up how I feel about him.”

“I’m sorry, Row. It’s our fault. We pushed you to have fun with him. To sleep with the enemy. And—”

“And he proved why in fact he is the definition of the word enemy.”

“You’re positive you weren’t mistaking anything? I mean…”

“If the deal was finalized and I benefitted from it, I do believe Holden would have told me about it because he’s a guy, and in a guy’s mind—”

“He’d be rewarded with the world’s best blow job ever.”

“Bingo.” I snap my fingers. “And he didn’t say a word.”

The thought sticks with me long after our wine has been drunk and Sloane has fallen dead to the world in one of the numerous guest rooms.

I lie in bed, my head swimming with wine and feeling the weirdest juxtaposition of being the most prepared and most unprepared I’ve ever felt in my life.

Step into the gray with me.