Page 23 of Threaded Lies

I have nothing to lose because it seems I’ve already lost it all.

I’m there, Knight. I’m in the gray.

And I’m ready to take you on.

EIGHT

Holden

She was nowhere a few days ago and now she’s every-fucking-where I look.

On my computer screen in proof after proof of the new marketing images. That goddamn red bikini and that straw resting between her pouty lips. The ones I refuse to use but that sell the product so damn well, even I want to drink it.

In the office. The distinct click of her heels as she strides up and down the hall with a purpose that I swear says fuck you, and for the life of me I can’t figure out the why behind it.

In the clipped tone of every single email response I’ve gotten from her.

In the radio silence of unanswered texts I’ve sent her.

In that fucking annoying laugh Chadwick has that seems to be louder and more grating every time I hear it.

In that rock on her finger that has me gritting my teeth every damn time I see it flash across the room.

I’ve missed something when I never miss anything.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and run everything over in my head again. I spent hours digging into Chad again last night. Firewall after firewall. Social media DMs. His iCloud account. Fucking everything.

And as much as my ego is fucking bruised at the admission, there has to be something he has to offer her that I can’t.

What did I fucking miss?

What does marrying him net her that I can’t see?

My jaw hurts from clenching and my eyes burn from the late-night-into-early-morning scrolling.

Of course Rowan would choose what Chad has to offer over what I do. She’s a Rothschild, after all. A product of this fucked-up town and backward society. Rich folk stay together. Westmore Rothschilds and Williamses do, especially.

Nothing’s changed.

Fucking shame on me for thinking she was different.

“Holden?” Bob, my investigator, prompts through the connection when I’ve gone silent for longer than normal.

“Make it fucking hurt,” I grit out.

“O-kay.” He stretches the word out with curiosity edging his tone. “Is there a reason for your change of heart?”

“I wasn’t aware I needed to have one.”

He clears his throat. The man’s worked for me long enough to know my tone means don’t fucking question me.

“So, make it hurt in what respect?” he redirects as he rightly fucking should. “You’ve created a lot of options.”

“I have, haven’t I?” The thought makes me smile and feel a little better. There’s no place that Rhett or Chadwick can run and hide to avoid my wrath.

I’ve made goddamn sure of it.

The rotten land deal named WillowBend. The exposure of their trust embezzlements. A cold case on a hit-and-run. A large payment to ensure a winning run for city council. Them finding out that Rowan now has a seat on their board.