Two Hearts and a Lie (Offstage Book 2)

by Rica Grayson

  To my surprise, my sister is walking towards us. There is no way anyone is going to miss that the bride is walking towards me, with the way she cuts across the room in a brisk walk. “Blaire!”

  My sister’s arms wrap tight around me, and I hug her back.

  She pulls back and her hands grasp mine. “You were amazing tonight.” She looks like she’s about to cry. “I can’t believe you went up there, even though I know you must’ve hated it.”

  She could tell.

  “No crying,” I tell her. “You’ll ruin your make-up.”

  “Ha. I’m an emotional mess tonight. And waterproof make-up works wonders.” Her lips lift in a small smile, a hand resting on my cheek. “Proud of you. We all got worried when we saw that.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, the compliment sending a rush of affection through me.

  It’s then that I see Ryan, heading towards us with purposeful strides. Suddenly, I have the irrational urge to bolt. “Umm, Shelly, I think I have to—”

  “Running off somewhere?” He’s fast.

  Ryan closed the distance between us in no time. I wince. His piercing, gray eyes root me to the spot. He knew what I was about to do, and he’s not letting me escape this one.

  I hate that he’s implying I’m backing out of our agreement.

  “You’re blushing,” my sister observes shrewdly, somewhat amused.

  I don’t know why, but looking at him, especially after what he said to me earlier, that he worried about me, makes my face flame.

  Her eyes flick between us and she laughs. “What happened between you two?”

  Oh, nothing. We only got locked in a storeroom, I struck a preposterous deal with him to act like his girlfriend, and now I feel like I made a deal with the devil.

  “Nothing,” I immediately reply. She responds with a knowing look, but she doesn’t say a word.

  I circle back to what Gretchen said earlier. There’s no way Ryan Carson likes me. It’s as unlikely as touching the moon from where I stand. A glimpse or two is all I can afford.

  He wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer towards him. His palm touches the bare skin of my shoulder, and an electrifying jolt passes through me. This startles me, and I look up at him only to find warm eyes amused at my reaction. With his easy charm, he turns around and winks at everyone, and says, “I’m stealing her for the rest of tonight.”

  Ryan

  A soft breath escapes her when I pull her closer to my body. Satisfaction slides through me at having her close.

  “Does it have to be right now?” she mutters. Still, even if reluctant, she allows me to steer her deeper into the hall.

  Guess she needs a little more coaxing to get her to smile at me. She hasn’t yet tonight.

  “What are you planning?” She looks a little lost and out of her element. “My sister—”

  “Is enjoying a dance with the groom,” I finish.

  Kind, fiercely loyal, and right now, a little vulnerable. There had never been a more intoxicating combination. “Nothing so devious,” I murmur.

  I bring her further in for a dance. She rests her head on my shoulder, like she’s tired of keeping up her defenses. For once, I don’t tease. I don’t want her running away. It seems like she analyzes every single thing when it comes to us, and I don’t want her overthinking. This way I’ll wear her down before she realizes it. I bring my hand to her lower back, pulling her closer, and I feel her start to tense.

  “Relax,” I tell her, my lips brushing her cheek.

  “Easy for you to say,” she replies. But slowly, she melts into my arms.

  When the song ends, our dance slows. She lifts her head, and I can tell what she’s going to say with a single look.

  “A drink?” I ask. Yeah, not ready to let you go just yet.

  She considers it for a moment and nods. I lead her towards a secluded table. I pour us both a glass and she swirls the glass first. I watch as pleasure suffuses her as she takes the first sip. “Oh, wow. It’s really good.” It’s a limited-edition bottle of red wine, and I wanted her to try it. Looks like it was the right choice.

  She lifts a brow seeing my face. “Okay, wipe that smug look off, please.”

  She spots something behind me and turns pale. “I don’t think you have to worry about what other people are saying about us,” she imparts, her voice strained.

  A strange thing to bring up. That’s when I hear the faint click of a camera snapping from behind me in quick succession. I whirl my head around and find her aunt Renee hiding her phone. She bats her eyelashes and smiles at us innocently.

  “My aunt’s going to let all extended family and friends know, and she’ll make the news of us dating spread faster than you can blink,” she explains. “Single-handedly. She’s a genius that way.”

  She covers her face with her hands, mortified. A grin finds its way to my lips. “All the better.”

  “I don’t understand how you’re so calm about it.” She sounds miffed, and it draws a laugh from me.

  “Not always,” I reply. “Some things you get so damned used to, the feeling dulls over time.”

  She’s quiet for a moment, thoughtful. My eyes wander towards the end of the hall, finding Shelly and Jordan talking to an elderly couple. “Your sister looks happy,” I observe, watching Shelly in Jordan’s arms. They’re an odd pair—a whimsical, social butterfly to a quieter, reserved man. Somehow, they make it work.

  This makes Blaire perk up, her earlier apprehension wiped away. “She is,” she agrees animatedly. “She deserves the best. They both do.”

  Her phone vibrates. She stares at the screen for a beat and smacks a hand to her forehead. “Oh no, here it is.”

  She turns her phone upside down on the table to show me. It’s a post showing a picture of us, the only caption being a heart emoji. I glance at the table behind me again. Her aunt is talking to Blaire’s parents. Somehow, it doesn’t fool me.

  Blaire’s eyes snag on something in the distance. “Is my brother flirting with Angelie?” she blurts out, scandalized. I follow the direction of her gaze. Chris and Angelie having what looks like an intimate conversation in one corner. She nearly stands up, but I manage to stop her mid-way.

  “Wait.” I watch them with interest. Chris really is going for it. Angelie tells him something in response, but her eyes roam around the room, probably in search of me.

  I owe him. He’s been keeping Angelie away.

  “Why is he…” Her eyes bounce between us, back and forth. Understanding dawns on her. “Oh my God. You planned that, didn’t you?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t do anything. I just told him about her. He said he’d take care of it.”

  It’s exactly what happened.

  She throws her head back and laughs. “I love how you say that with a straight face. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Because she knows us so well.

  Lance is doing a great job being intimidating. Orion, one of the people in my security team walks in the hall and finds me. He approaches our table.

  “It’s ready,” he whispers in my ear. I nod in acknowledgement.

  “Come with me?” I ask. Seeing her indecision, I add, “It won’t take long. I just want to show you something.”

  The view from the top of the hotel overlooks another gigantic pool, and behind it, the wide expanse of the ocean, with speckled lights peppered against the night.

  It’s just the two of us here, and something coiled tight in me comes loose. At least here there aren’t so many people.

  Her hand rests on the window as she looks out. “It’s beautiful.”

  She glances quickly from the way we entered. She hesitates, but she releases a steadying breath. “Ryan, why are we here?” she asks.

  Connections. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I admit, “I have a friend.”

  A laugh escapes her, unbidden. It’s a sound that makes my gut tighten, and my hand drops to rest on her lower back. She’s not immune to my presence, because her brea
th hitches.

  “A friend,” she echoes. She bites the inside of her cheek. “Of course. Must be a really good one.”

  “Yes, he is.” He happens to be a part-owner of the hotel. She looks back at the window again, a longing expression on her face.

  “Want to go out?” I ask.

  “Out?” Seeing her puzzled reaction makes this all worth it. I take her hand, and with a gentle tug, she follows behind me warily. A glass door automatically parts for us, and she stares at it for a second.

  “Wow,” she breathes out. Her caution melts away, giving way to a look of surprised wonder. She squeals in excitement and walks to the end, hands touching the pane of glass at the edge of the terrace. She looks down, and seeing how high up we are, she takes a few steps backwards until her back hits my chest. My arms instinctively go to her waist to steady her. “Sorry. Too high,” she mutters. I let go immediately, sensing her discomfort.

  She looks up at the circular bulbs of light hanging by the wires, gleaming against the night, like something straight out of a fairy tale. Her eyes sparkle in delight, mouth hanging open.

  Satisfaction fills me. I just stunned her speechless.

  “How do people install these?” she blurts out.

  It’s a rhetorical question, but I answer anyway. “I have no idea.”

  I can see her biting back a smile. “I guess not. No time to install gigantic lights when you tour, huh?”

  I like her like this. When she’s talking animatedly, not closed-off. Carefree. Her humor shines through.

  Something about tonight loosened her tongue. It’s a new Blaire—one I’m not accustomed to. Perhaps she’s always been this way, and she just never chose to share that part of herself with me. She’s not aware of it, but she acts differently around me, in the same way I single her out.

  And what she’s wearing—the palest blue dress, the skin of her shoulders exposed, with a slight dip on her chest. Hell, it hugs her body, the curve of her hips enticing. I’ve noticed Blaire turned a few heads tonight. The thought of it makes something stir in my chest.

  To my surprise, she turns to me, hands hugging her body, as if protecting herself. “Sorry about what I said earlier,” she confesses ruefully. “Thanks for making sure I was okay.”

  Ah. She meant staying with her when she passed out. She has her pride, but she’s not afraid to apologize when she feels the need to. She’s refreshingly honest. If she dislikes you, you’d know it. Honesty—a quality I rarely find in people.

  She looks back at the view, tearing her gaze away from mine. But I need her to understand that I don’t intend to fuck this up again. Slowly, I lift her chin up so her eyes meet mine, my thumb grazing the cleft of her chin. “Anytime, Blaire.”

  Her eyes go large, and her lips part slightly.

  She jerks her head away, her hands covering her face. She groans out loud. “Why aren’t you an ass tonight?”

  This draws a chuckle from me. Sometimes, the things that come out of her mouth surprise me. “Would you like me to be?”

  She looks flustered by the mere suggestion. “No! I didn’t—it wasn’t—”

  I don’t think about it. I kiss her.

  Her lips are soft. Sweet. She moans, her hand tangling in my hair, causing a small bite of pain. My thumb strokes the area below her ear and I feel her shiver in my arms. I stroke her tongue with my own. It’s a war. A promise. She sinks into it. I barely register the sound of someone’s laugh from downstairs.

  The next thing I know, she’s pushing me away. Her cheeks are tinged pink, her lips darker from the kiss. She looks stricken.

  Fuck.

  The back of her hand on her mouth, her eyes start to glisten, clearly upset. My hand reaches to swipe away a tear, but she takes a step back, like my touch would burn her.

  “That wasn’t part of the deal,” she says quietly, her voice quivering.

  She’s right. It isn’t. Something twists in my chest.

  An apology immediately springs to my lips. “Blaire, I—”

  I see the moment frost settles in her eyes, the change so quick I barely have time to absorb it. “You’re sorry?” she finishes for me. The words sound hollow, and somehow, familiar. But before I try to remember where I heard them from, she takes a deep breath, like it pains her to say the next words. “Save it.”

  Just like that, she turns on her heel, and she walks away without looking back.

  I run a hand down my face. What the hell just happened?

  As I watch her retreating back, I understand two things—I like Blaire—a hell of a lot. I didn’t expect that. The second, that if she thinks she can run after that kiss, this time, I’m not going to let her forget it.

  Chapter 8

  Blaire

  Something chimes next to me. I ignore it. It chimes again. Half-second pauses before each successive chime, each one pulling me away from the haze of sleep. It takes me several moments to realize that it’s my phone.

  I clutch my blanket and pull it up higher, as if it could block the sound. When it keeps going, I shove my blanket down. Eyes bleary, I blink. As if to spite me, the chiming abruptly stops.

  Reality comes crashing down. Three days ago, Ryan Carson kissed me. That kiss… Shouldn’t have happened. An ache tugs at my chest. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. But clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight.

  In another lifetime, we might have been friends. I push the errant thought aside. We’re not. And all it took was a single mistake to undo all the efforts I made in being unaffected by Ryan Carson. And how easy it was to undo.

  But it’s all over now. Life can go back to pre-wedding peace—I hope. At least, until he contacts me again. He hasn’t contacted me since that night, but part of me knows that it isn’t over. I shiver, thinking about that kiss. I close my eyes, trying to clear my head. When he does contact me, it will be all business.

  The look on his face that night flashes in my mind. That single second before I walked away, there was confusion, but also a fiery resolve. Knowing him, I don’t think he’s the type of person who’d give up that easily.

  It stings. It’s bad enough that he stole my first kiss. Now he has to claim another part of me too—the part I thought had moved on from him. I should’ve known from the start that it was a bad idea.

  I think back to what Gretchen said. I snort at how ridiculous it all seems. He likes me? More like he likes to mess with me.

  My phone starts chiming again and it jerks me out of my thoughts.

  I quickly grab it, and my heart stops. Text messages. Video comments. Email. Gretchen sent my most recent message.

  Blaire, did u see this? There are other articles too.

  I follow a link she included.

  It’s me. The camera is a bit shaky, but it’s clear. Someone posted a video of us—from an account named “Ryan Carson”. I struggle to breathe.

  I do a quick search and the first article that comes up is showing more pictures of us at the wedding reception. Of us talking intimately at the table, of him whispering something in my ear on stage. Oh my God. Calm down, Blaire. This is what you agreed to.

  Comments flood my videos. Good and bad.

  It seems like someone was crazy enough to piece together my voice and the half of my face to my channel on YouTube. Now word’s spreading that I’m dating their favorite singer, and most of them are thrilled for me. The others… not so much.

  My heart sinks.

  I switch notifications off. This is insane.

  I knew. In some way, I knew this would happen eventually. No secrets last forever. I shouldn’t be surprised. But I didn’t know it would connect to my channel. My channel was one place I felt safe to be myself in. Feeling more than a little overwhelmed, I fix my bed and grab a glass of water.

  My eyes fall shut. What have I done? Why did I accept his stupid arm candy offer? Still shaken, I decide what to do—I call my brother. He answers on the second ring.

  “Chris. Are you at Ryan’s?”

&n
bsp; Ryan

  “So,” Chris starts, his voice deceptively light. I know better. He leans forward, elbows on the granite countertop, eyes fixed on me. The set of his shoulders is stiff, and whatever he’s thinking has him scowling. “What’s going on between you and my sister?”

  Whatever was going on between me and Blaire is our business, but I’m not one to hide it from him. Besides, it’s hard to hide something that’s been brewing for six years. “I don’t know,” I answer easily, but I brace myself for his response. “But I’d like to find out. Will you have a problem with that?”

  Unexpectedly, he claps my back. “‘Bout time, man.” He laughs it off, tension visibly leaving his body.

  He was waiting for it? This whole fucking time? It startles a chuckle from me. I take a moment to think of everything that it implies—all these years of being cautious around Blaire, circling each other. Fighting something that could’ve led to more.

  His phone makes a sound, and when he gives it a glance, he sobers. “Have you read the latest headlines yet?”

  “No. You know better than to pay attention to those.” I take a sip of coffee.

  His expression hard, he says, “Well, you’re gonna want to read them. My sister’s in it.”

  As if on cue, his phone rings. His brows pull together. “It’s Blaire.”

  So this is what Chris was talking about. I only had to do a search on my phone to find the video of me and Blaire. I view the tabloids like a multi-headed snake. Vipers, the whole lot of them. Social media is the fucking bane of my existence. My PR team handles it most of the time.

  I navigate to the video during the wedding reception. Hearing her the second time, it still catches me off guard. How does she have no idea how good she is?

  I consider it for a moment. It already reached over three hundred thousand views. She’ll be spitting mad when she sees this video. I grin wide. I’m looking forward to it.