by S. M. West
No one protests and before long, I’m immersed in the numerous tasks needing completion before today is done. The committee members are in working groups, finishing the brochures on our charity and finalizing the giveaways. Things are going smoothly. Or as smoothly as they can with a surprise proposal dumped in my lap.
But then it all goes to hell.
Nan makes a comment and since she’s across the room, I can’t make out the words, but I don’t need to. She leans into Bettina and says something about the ring or proposal—the one thing I had hoped would go unsaid.
Like a heat-seeking missile, Bettina locks gazes with me and while I’m sure it’s only a beat, or two at the most, our staring contest feels like forever. And then she breaks the connection, moving in for the kill.
Marching over to me, ladies follow, crowding behind her, and the sight is intimidating. My first instinct is to run or hide. Who am I kidding? The sensation of being on the edge, ready to spring into action, isn’t new. I’ve wanted to run and hide since Zach put the ring on my finger.
Bettina grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers in her larger palm. “It’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you. Zach is a lucky man.”
The women swarm around me, pawing my hand, gushing over the two-carat halo diamond ring. Nan stands silent and proud, overseeing the entire affair—one which she orchestrated.
“Thank you.” The response sounds strange and inappropriate but it’s all I’ve got.
“What’s going on over here?” says a woman, cutting through the mob. Blonde hair grabs my attention and my heart sinks into my stomach. Reagan Hussey. When did she get here?
She had been coy about whether she’d be able to be here today and while I certainly need the help, I was also grateful there was a chance she might not show. No matter how helpful she claims to be, whenever she’s around, things are difficult.
Even though I’m the center of attention, Reagan pays me no mind, sparing not even a glance at my face. Instead, she tilts her gaze down to my hand, now in Mrs. Gallagher’s grip. Finally she lifts her head, giving me a clown-like smile, too tight and maniacal to be real.
“That’s my ring,” she says accusingly, and heads snap in my direction. Some even grill me with a guilty look, as though I belong behind bars without even knowing what crime I’ve committed.
“Pardon?” My lips are dry and my head swims.
“Zach proposed to me with that ring.” She juts out her chin, a small pout forming on her lips.
All the air is sucked out of the room. Mrs. Gallagher drops my hand as if my implied treachery is contagious and I can barely breathe. Reagan squares her shoulders, placing her French-manicured hands on her hips and scowls, waiting expectantly for me to explain.
My mouth opens and closes like a fish, but no sound comes out. Even if I wanted to refute her claim, I can’t find my voice let alone get air into my lungs. The blood drains from my face, I’m certain of it, and as nauseous as I am pale, I step back.
“He loved me and we were going to get married. How’d you get that ring?”
“I...” I stumble back.
“Take it off and get out of here.” Reagan points at me, her cheeks reddening by the second. “You’re a thief and it’s an utter disgrace to have you running things, let alone associated with the foundation.”
“This is preposterous. Stop,” Nan says, now at my side. “Zachary never proposed to you.”
“How would you know, Nan?” Reagan narrows her serpent-like green eyes. “If she isn’t removed from the foundation, I’m pulling my family’s funding and we won’t back Project Miranda.”
Collectively, we hold our breaths and I can barely wrap my head around what Reagan threatened. She can’t do this. Project Miranda, named after Zach’s mother, is to be the pinnacle achievement of this year’s gala.
When I presented to the board the idea of investing in a large desalination project in Africa to turn saline water into freshwater, Reagan was quick to offer the initial start-up funding. The vote was unanimous. Project Miranda will change the course of the foundation and its more-than-money approach by creating jobs, a sustainable freshwater resource in the region, and so much more.
And now she’s willing to ruin the plans set in motion and the good the project could do all because of some ring? And she was with Zach. He loved her? Why didn’t he say something to me? All those times I complained about Reagan and not once did he tell me about their history.
I want to scream and tell them all I don’t want to marry Zach, even if it isn’t the truth. I can’t believe Reagan is so petty and vindictive. I’m hurt and angry to have their past explode in my face but that doesn’t mean I’d put the gala and foundation work in jeopardy like she’s doing.
“Zach and I have dated on and off for years. Everyone knew we’d eventually get married.” Reagan sniffles, wiping at an invisible tear, and some of the younger women standing around us nod in agreement.
Nan lets out a refined snort, not buying Reagan’s assertions, and bile burns in the back of my throat. Is she telling the truth? Why would she lie?
“Paige isn’t going anywhere.” Nan steps in, blocking me from Reagan’s mounting wrath.
My gaze darts around the room looking for the man in question, and then I remember I’d asked him to pick up the silent auction cards from the printer. He left a while ago. But as if choreographed, at that moment Zach pushes through the front doors and he stills, locking in on me. He must pick up on my anxiousness because he doesn’t hesitate to stride purposefully toward me. It isn’t surprising he’s attuned to my state of mind. There’s no way I’m calm or focused enough to hide my distress.
Not wanting him to join this crowd of quick-to-judge women, and needing to get away, I slink off, hopefully unnoticed with all eyes on Reagan, and meet him halfway.
“What’s wrong?” He clasps my elbow, sending a spark through my nerve endings.
“We need to talk.”
I push him into a small room with the office supplies and close the door behind us. Reagan is still locking horns with Nan Rothwell.
“Were you going to marry Reagan Hussey?” I pull away from his grip, grateful for the privacy and to be away from prying eyes.
Ramrod straight, he averts his gaze for a split second before meeting my scrutinizing stare. It’s barely a blink of an eye but enough to know Reagan wasn’t lying. It’s as if I’ve been punched in the gut and my stomach muscles throb with betrayal.
“Talk to me.” My jaw tightens.
“I’m not talking about this here,” he whisper-growls.
“Were you in love with her? Who broke it off?”
His answers don’t matter if what she says is true. I mean, who gives another woman the ring he gave someone else? But something is off. If they loved each other, Nan would know about them. Wouldn’t she?
And even if she didn’t, why didn’t he tell me? Let’s say he kept it a secret because he knew his grandmother would be all over him. Fine. But why didn’t he say something when we first talked about our deal? I had a right to know. Or when I talked about Reagan, why didn’t he say something then? Or more importantly, why didn’t he tell me before he proposed?
“You were going to marry her for your trust fund.” It’s meant to be a question, but I say it without doubt.
“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” He grabs hold of my hand and his thumb bumps the foul bauble banding my finger. Almost unbearable, the cool gold against my skin is blistering and constricting and it’s then the violent urgency to take off the ring is greatest.
I’d been questioning myself since hearing Reagan’s claim, trying to decipher what was at the root of my raging sadness. Sure, she had the element of surprise and I was somewhat embarrassed, but that wasn’t enough to cause this gaping wound in my chest. Am I hurt because of our lies? The lies we told so many people. The lies we told ourselves.
Or was it not knowing that Zach had been with Reagan or that he had proposed to her that hurts the mo
st?
Or was it that our arrangement, false and doomed, wasn’t special or unique?
He propositioned another woman before me and like her, I’m replaceable. If our deal didn’t work out, he’d find another woman to stand by his side.
Even knowing our arrangement had always been business, I desperately wanted to believe his feelings were pure and true. I wanted to believe he loved me. My disgust for myself is immeasurable.
“No. I want to talk about this now.”
Frowning, his gaze swings behind him, searching for something. Does he want to make sure we’re alone? No one can overhear his confession or know about his dastardly deeds?
“Answer me.”
His brows arch, not missing the bite in my tone. In a hoarse voice, almost a whisper that I don’t recognize, he says, “It was an arrangement.”
“Hmm. You should have stuck with her. She’s selling this epic romance to your grandmother and anyone who will listen. And she seems to be still committed to your deal.”
“Paige, please, let’s go and I’ll explain everything.” He tries to grab hold of my hand but I pull away, my back now against the brick wall.
“Your whole life is fake. CEO of a company where you don’t call the shots. A secret business venture you can’t even bring out into the open. A fiancée you don’t love, and don’t intend to stay married to.” The truth cuts deep and wide, unraveling my worst fears—all of this is truly fake.
I attempt to push past him, my hands flat against his solid chest. “And what for? Money? I hope it’s worth it.”
“You’re one to talk.” He tips his head close to mine, his tone low and harsh. “Your life isn’t much truer, now is it?”
“That’s all you’ve got? Great way to deflect. I’m not doing this with you.” My chest is tight, as if it’s collapsing inward as our lies clog my throat. Tears sting my eyes and I try again to get past him, but he holds me tight. Not hard or rough, almost as if in an embrace, backing me against the wall and cradling my head.
Zach is everywhere.
His body weight and heat are both comforting and frustrating. It feels as if an anchor is resting on my chest and my fingers dig into his shirt, nails sinking into his flesh. He sucks in his teeth but doesn’t budge.
“Listen to me,” he growls, commanding, and I feel both incensed to fight him off, and defeated, no strength to get away.
“Zachary. Zachary,” Nan says, her voice getting louder and louder from behind the door and he stills, glancing over his shoulder.
The door opens and she asks, “Have you seen…is that Paige?”
She strains her neck to see over him and he twists an inch or two to get a better look at her. Taking the chance, I wrench myself free and step out to face Nan. My smile is reluctant and apologetic. What must she think?
“Nan, I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Are you all right, dear?” Her watchful gaze almost burns and upon impulse, I brush at the corner of my eyes despite never having shed a single tear.
“I’m fine. There’s still so much to do but I’ll…” My voice cracks, hating what I am going to suggest because it isn’t what I want. “I’ll leave. Alice can step in. She’s at the lot but I can call her and have her come back. I’ll need to take her through what I was to do tomorrow.”
“What?” Zach stands behind me, the heat of him against my back.
“You’re not going anywhere. Reagan left.” She takes my hands, squeezing gently. “Why don’t you take a minute and then join us. Everyone is back to work and this changes nothing.”
“But she said…”
“I know what she said and don’t listen to her. We can talk about it later but like you said, there’s so much still to do and if we let this drama derail us, we’ll never get it all done, now will we?”
I nod and her cool fingers lightly graze my arm when I brush past her. I can’t look at her. If I do, I’ll break down and cry, confess our sins. Tell her about all our lies and, perhaps, even admit I wished that our engagement was real. Glancing down, I briefly examine the ring.
“Tell me, what the hell is going on?” Zach’s question rumbles deep and low in the small space.
Turning to face him, I take off the ring and hold it out to him.
“No.” His icy blue eyes chill.
“Paige, darling.” Nan steps closer. “Don’t be silly. Reagan…”
“Reagan?” Zach cuts in, still fisting his hands at his side.
I set the ring on a table and leave. He growls my name trying to reach for me, but I am quick. I dart around Nan and only stop once at the door.
With my back to them, I say, heartbroken, “I understand if it’s best that I don’t come tomorrow but I want you both to know I’ll make sure we’re in great shape by the end of today. No matter what happened, it doesn’t change how much I want tomorrow to be a success.”
I slip out of the room and they both call after me.
How I thought I could pull this off without getting hurt or hurting anyone else I have no idea.
Twenty-Nine
Zach
Tap. Tap. Tap. The tip of her shoe lifts and descends incessantly on the tiled kitchen floor while she glares at me, arms crossed over her middle.
“You like your women with a stick up their ass?” Paige scowls, lips twisted sharply. “Reagan may be pretty to look at, but she and I are nothing alike. I’ve got my faults but a stick up my ass isn’t one of them.”
“Can we talk like two adults?” I fold and then unfold my arms.
We stand on opposite sides of the island in her brother’s condo. She moved out last night without my knowledge. It was only when I came back to the penthouse, after another one of the gala tasks she asked of me, that I found the place empty.
Once Paige left my grandmother and me in the supply room, Nan filled me in on the showdown with Reagan. Damn that woman. True to her word, Paige acted like nothing had happened and for the most part, everyone else followed her lead. But she ignored me for the rest of the day. In those rare moments when she did talk to me, it was only to send me on an errand away from the foundation.
“Oh, now you want to be mature when for months you were willing to play games and lie? Why didn’t you tell me about Reagan? And before you answer, don’t you dare say the opportunity never came up.” Pushing from the counter, she glowers at me. “She was a thorn in my side, and I told you about her silly games. You had many chances to come clean.”
I mash my lips together. She has me there. “It’s simple albeit embarrassing. I didn’t want to tell you about Reagan because she was a mistake.”
At some point yesterday, Paige left the foundation or had someone move most of her things to the condo. When I discovered she was gone, I grilled JP. For the first time in all the years he has worked for me, he was tight-lipped and wouldn’t divulge any information regarding Paige.
He infuriated me but I also respected his loyalty. It was more than I could say for myself and what I had given Paige. It was Nan who told me she was staying at Drew’s. Paige was considerate enough to let my grandmother know where she’d be and it had taken a bit of coaxing to get her to let me in. To hear me out.
“Reagan said you’d been together off and on for years.”
I snort like a teenager rather than use my words. I’m dreading my explanation for Reagan. Paige deserves to hear it, to hear the truth, but it’s something I’d like to forget, and she’ll only be more angry once I tell her. It’s plain to see she has moved past speechless—that was yesterday. Today is anger.
“We slept together off and on throughout the years,” I say, and she flinches, steeling her spine and clenching her jaw. “But we were never serious, and we were never a couple, no matter what she said.”
“Did you propose to her?”
“Not in the way she made it sound. We had a similar business arrangement to what you and I had.” I cringe at my poor choice of words because Paige and I were so much more than
business.
“In a moment of stupidity, desperate to make an offer on St. Barts when I heard it was coming up for sale, I proposed the same arrangement to Reagan. But unlike you, I also told her we might have to get married to make it believable. There was nothing romantic about it. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and if we got married, she would have had to sign a pre-nuptial agreement, too.”
“Funny how you left that out of our arrangement. The marriage part, I mean.” She quirks a brow, twisting her face in disgust. “Did you figure you could get me to fall for you and I’d be none the wiser of your ruse?” Her words come with such venomous force that I frown, and the stench of my regret hangs heavy in the air.
“No, it wasn’t like that. We were different. I didn’t even have you sign a non-disclosure agreement,” I’m quick to point out, only now realizing I’d never treated us like business.
If I had been thinking with my head, I would have never entered our arrangement without a written understanding we were never to tell anyone.
“Wow, you two are a match made in heaven. Two liars. Pity you didn’t see it through.” She’s mocking and I’m getting mad.
“Paige.”
“It must be hard for you to have a real, truthful conversation, or do you only have that problem with me?”
“Are you done?”
“Go on. Get to the part where you asked her to marry you.”
“I didn’t,” I grit out. “The arrangement never even got off the ground. It became apparent she wanted the whole deal.”
“What?” She straightens, her tone softer, less accusing. “You mean the real thing?”
“Yes. But she was never the real thing.” I inch closer and she takes a step back. “She’s had it in her mind from when we were kids that a Hussey-Rothwell union would be amazing. It isn’t really her fault. Her grandparents wanted it, so naturally that’s where she got the idea.”
She frowns, casting her eyes to the floor. I get close enough to tilt her chin to look at me. “And I’ve never asked anyone but you to marry me. Reagan has never worn the ring. Yes, she knew about it. It’s a family heirloom. It was Nan’s and she’s told the story many times of how my grandfather proposed to her. I’m surprised Nan never told you. Reagan knows the history and she’s seen the ring.”