Page 39 of Threaded Lies

“Row—”

“And if you have any hope of me going through with this wedding, you won’t breathe a word about this fucking ridiculous conversation to a soul.”

She takes a step back but I can feel the weight of her stare and the misplaced compassion oozing off her. “It’s our little secret,” she whispers.

“Go,” I order her. “Just go.”

I can see her nod in my periphery as she walks away but know she doesn’t believe me. For her, it’s the only reasonable explanation why, all of a sudden, I agreed to marry Chad. And now that I think of it, presumably for everyone else at this party.

But telling her I’m doing it to get more voting shares and a little bit of control of something I no longer own sounds even more illogical than her pregnancy reasoning.

But even in acknowledging that, fury races through my veins and owns me. I stare out the window of the boathouse as I mentally prepare myself to go back to a party I don’t belong at despite being one of the guests of honor.

I don’t know how long I stand there—a song changes on the barge, laughter rings out—but there is no part of me that is going to believe the hype I’m selling myself that I need to go back there.

No doubt my mom will be here in moments to rope me back into making another fake-smile-filled appearance.

And as if on cue, footsteps shuffle behind me.

“What part of leave me alone did you not understand?” I snap but then jolt when I turn around to find Holden standing there with lifted eyebrows.

Jesus. My breath hitches and my heart lurches at the sight of him. Especially when I am here trying to avoid the very situation he ran me into.

“Trouble in paradise so soon?” he asks and fiddles with the cuff link on one sleeve.

The sunburst cuff links. The ones I gave him. The ones that led me to the discovery of his betrayal.

And he’s both callous and arrogant enough to wear them to my engagement party. Callous because if he has connected the dots—a signed contract in an unlocked drawer sitting just below where I left the damn cuff links—then he’s throwing it in my face. And arrogant because he’s wearing a heartfelt thank-you I left for him for the best night of my life to my engagement party.

Does he wonder why I left them so haphazardly without a note and then turned around within days to be engaged? For a smart man, he’s blinded by something and I’m not exactly sure what that could be.

“Why are you here?” I ask, ignoring his question.

“My car is boxed in. The valet is trying to find the driver of the car who parked in front of me. I have a feeling I’ll be here for a while. Believe me, if I had my choice, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

“And why’s that? Is it tough seeing something you thought was yours stolen right out from under you?” I ask and lift my brows. I could be talking about me or my company. Either works in this situation.

“Touché,” he murmurs and holds my gaze. “Have you fucked him yet?” His nostrils flare and his jaw sets as he waits for an answer.

“How is that any of your business?”

“You are my business.”

“I was your business. Now I’m just … an employee.”

“At least you know your place.” His voice is steely and gaze intense but nowhere near as cutting as his words.

“You sure as hell made sure of that, didn’t you?” I look for an escape, but of course Holden is standing at the only exit in this stupid boathouse.

“Never claimed to be a saint, Sunshine, but I don’t have a fucking clue what this is all about.”

“Just like you acted like you didn’t know who I was that first night we met. Smoke and mirrors, Holden. It seems that’s all you are.”

All I can do is shake my head. One minute aloof, the next minute possessive. He seems just as goddamn confused as I am by all of this.

But that’s on him.

Not me.