by Nicole Snow
Paige nods and turns her wrist so she can see her Apple watch as it buzzes. “Yep, that’s why. I’m afraid we have to be getting to our next meeting.”
I grab the box, stand, and we’re out the door.
“How long do you think it will take Reese to get here?” I ask.
“I texted her under the table. She should be here soon, but let’s get outside so you can tell me what’s up.”
Yeah, about that...
We walk out of the museum and into the cool Chicago breeze. Paige shivers. I take off my jacket and drape it around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she says. “You were turning beet red in there. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
She cocks her head. “Until today, I didn’t think you were capable of real emotion over anything except Beatrice. You weren’t even shaken up when Winthrope got cold feet. Ward, what happened?”
“Nothing,” I grind out again, knowing the hellfire in my eyes betrays me. “I just don’t like people thinking they have any right to donate my family’s shit, okay?”
The words tear out of me, benign half-truths as forceful as bullets.
“Whatever.” Her forehead wrinkles as she takes a step back. “How did other people get your family’s personal stuff, anyway?”
Her voice is so small.
I’m relieved I don’t have to answer when the town car arrives. Perfect timing.
“There’s Reese,” I say, giving me ample opportunity to bury the hideous truth.
For now.
As I slink into the seat, feeling the glacial cold radiating off my Not Fiancée, I wonder. How long into this ninety days of hell before it all comes spilling out?
How long till she sees me lose my mind?
15
Behind the Mask (Paige)
Things are getting weird.
Ward throws open the door for me and holds it until I’m inside the car. He slides the box in beside me and gets in.
I raise the privacy screen between us and Reese, then move the box so it’s on my other side. I scoot closer to him, searching his eyes, wading through the glaring pain that’s taken him over.
“Ward...what’s in the box that you don’t want me to know about?” I whisper.
His forehead creases. He scratches loudly at his beard.
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because whatever it is, it upset you, and if you wanted me to know about it, you would have already told me.”
He turns his head to face me.
Yikes.
He’s even hotter when he’s mega-pissed. He looks like a warrior god, ready to go charging into battle. “You’re right about one thing—I don’t want you to know. Not about this. So why do you keep asking?”
I hold up my hand, ring flashing, and smile.
He tries to ignore me, turning to the window.
“Come on, bossman. We’re stuck together for the next three months. Just let me lend an ear.”
He’s dead silent.
I peel away from him with a sigh. “Look, I won’t force it, but haven’t you ever heard repressing is bad for your health?”
His eyes snap back to mine and his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips.
“This isn’t your battle, Paige. You don’t want to get mixed up with this. He’s hurt enough people. I don’t want that sicko anywhere near you.”
Sicko?
Are we still talking about the box?
“Who?” I mouth, the word barely audible.
“My father.” His eyes are ice balls stuck to my lips.
I shake my head. “What does your dad have to do with—”
“Stay out of it,” he snaps. “All these questions tell me you didn’t do your homework when you had a chance. If you’d gone hunting, you’d know about the skeletons in the family closet.”
Ouch.
His harsh tone hurts, but he’s right.
Between diving into this fake engagement insanity, I got distracted. I didn’t have time to do a thorough search over the touchy stuff he warned me about...or any search at all.
I cross my arms and turn away from him.
He could shame a storybook Prince with his looks, but his attitude is straight Vlad the Impaler.
“Whatever. Silly me. It’s not like we’re in this together or anything,” I say with a huff.
In one swift movement, he leans over and cups my face with his thick hand, turning my head so there’s nowhere to go but deep into those teal-blue eyes.
All the air whooshes out of my lungs.
“Don’t feel scolded. My father’s a horrible man. I promise you want nothing to do with him. I’m protecting you, woman.”
God. He’s so close to me his minty man scent invades my senses. If I lean forward the tiniest bit, our mouths will meet.
Do I want that? Again?
Last time, it was divine, but then he forgot it happened.
I suck in a breath and jerk away, knocking the box onto the floor, and slide closer to the door before exhaling.
“What does your dad have to do with this box, Ward?” I can’t help probing because this makes no sense. “Is the stuff inside his?”
“Yes. No one else would have it. I told you, it’s my problem. Got it?”
“Would Beatrice really be upset if anyone saw it?” I ask, barely a whisper.
His face hardens into granite. “Why do people always assume I’m overreacting?”
“Umm—I don’t know. But you reacted like you sat on a porcupine. Would they?”
“No question. And in case you forgot, Grandma can’t be stressed out—especially not by this crap.” His chest heaves with a monster sigh. “Nick doesn’t let anything get under his skin. He’s always in the clouds, above it all.”
“You’re sure it’s from your father? Maybe it got mixed up in a box for Goodwill or someone stole it?” I try, knowing it’s absurd, but might make him feel better.
“Bullshit. Dad doesn’t donate anything unless there’s money involved, and who steals a model boat? Don’t be ridiculous.”
My face sinks.
“Maybe I wouldn’t be, if we didn’t have to dance around—”
“Paige. Just drop it.”
“Consider it dropped, Wardhole,” I say, twisting to the window.
A few beats later, he says, “Are you pissed?”
Duh.
“Why would I be angry? I’m just stuck with a seething man who can’t tell me what his problem is, because even though I’m trustworthy enough to stay in his guest room and wear an expensive fake ring, I’m not trustworthy enough to know his problems.” I shake my head and hit the button on the door to lower the screen separating Reese. “Hey, Reese. Drop me at Sweeter Grind, please?”
“Paige,” Ward growls, his voice scraping.
“You knew I was meeting Brina today.” I shrug, not daring to meet his eyes. “I would’ve canceled for an emergency, but you don’t need my help. Remember?”
“How long will you be gone?” he demands.
“If I’m lucky, long enough to meet a hot barista and jet off to Hawaii.”
Reese snickers awkwardly in the front seat. “Trouble in paradise?”
“What paradise?” I scoff.
I know, I’m terrible, but having two commas in my compensation doesn’t give this man the right to stomp all over me.
“Stay out of it,” Ward growls at Reese, punching the button to raise the window.
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that. It’s bad enough when you talk to me like that, and we’re engaged,” I say.
He raises the screen and side-eyes me.
“We’re supposed to be in love.”
“And you’re supposed to act like you love me, Captain Grump.”
Our eyes lock. There’s static in the air. The challenge, the heat, the tension makes me petrified.
“If you don’t knock it off, people will realize that we’re—”
“What?” I roll my eyes. “That all normal coup
les fight? It’d be creepy if they didn’t. As much as I’d love to have a shred of respect, maybe it’s good this is happening. Butting heads always comes naturally enough for us, right? No need to fake it.” The car stops, and I glance out the window.
I can feel his eyes trying to light me on fire.
“We’re here. I’ll see you later, darling.” I fling the door open.
Before I can climb out, Ward grabs my hand like the caveman he is. But the savage pulse I’m expecting to see in his eyes softens to a campfire.
“Just stay safe,” he urges.
Huh? Unsure what to make of that, I nod.
He hasn’t let go of my hand. “Call if you need anything. And don’t talk to any strangers.”
“O-okay,” I tell him.
It takes me a minute longer to pull my fingers out of his grip than it should. Mostly because a crazy part of me doesn’t want to be free of his warmth, his strength, his weird concern.
But Brina’s waiting, and who am I to pass up a little therapy?
I shouldn’t let him rile me up with tender glances or walls of pure temper.
This is all a show.
It’s not like it means anything.
I move away from him and head for the peace of the coffee shop.
“I’m surprised you kept the apartment.” Brina sips her cinnamon latte and steps onto the stairway outside my place.
“It’s only ninety days—less now—so I just took clothes and necessities. I might as well pay rent here for the next three months because I’ll need a place after it’s over. Also, I didn’t want to move my furniture.” I laugh. “But I’ve been here so long now this place feels like home. It hasn’t been the same since you left. All of my friends are moving on to phase two of their lives, and I’m still stuck in the apartment we rented after college. Lame, but familiar, y’know?”
At the top of the stairs, I unlock the door and push it open.
“Enjoy phase one. It’ll end when it’s supposed to. Now what did you tell your parents about your current relationship status?” Brina steps inside ahead of me.
I follow her in and make sure the door is shut before I answer. I don’t want anyone else hearing this. “They signed the same NDA as you, and I told them the truth.”
“Were they cool with it? My mom would have been clasping her hands and fawning—romance author that she is—but I don’t think my dad would respond the same way.” Brina moves to the couch and sits down.
I sit beside her and slurp my latte. “They didn’t like it. Mom said if I ever date again, I’m going to have to explain two ex-fiancés instead of one. And it’s kind of hard to bury this one when we’re internet famous. Although, I guess Austin and I technically broke up before we ever really got engaged.”
“That guy was such a jackass,” Brina spits. “I never liked him. I hated the way it happened, but I’m still glad you didn’t get in deeper. I don’t know if I’d be able to visit if you’d wound up together. He was that bad.”
I smile, unsure if I should celebrate my bosshole fiancé far surpassing the boy I dated organically.
When it was over with Austin, everyone said they were glad he was history.
But no one actually told me when I was madly in love, too afraid to burst my bubble.
“No arguments about Austin. But my parents think this is somehow worse. Dad wanted me to back out of the contract and offered to take out a loan for my studio.”
“Oh, wow. But you didn’t?”
“Nah, I’d never let him front me like that and I’d already signed the contract. You know how I get with paying my own way. I’ll leave the whole ‘let my parents take care of life’ thing to my sister.”
“It’s a lot of money, Paige. I wouldn’t have turned it down, either, except for the fact that Mag would behead anyone who offered a fake engagement now.”
We both laugh because it’s true. She married an overprotective billionaire who’s learned to treat her like gold.
“He wouldn’t let you fake it in a million years,” I agree.
“But this all sounds pretty intense for pretend,” she says. “What happened that you couldn’t tell me about at Sweeter Grind?”
I set my drink down on the coffee table, drumming my brain to figure out where to begin.
“He’s a split personality. Sometimes this seems almost real, and then the next minute he’s Mr. Wardhole again. We went to the art museum today. He was being cute, at first, attentive and sweet. They had a new box of donations for his grandma’s exhibit and he just...he freaked. He wouldn’t even tell me what the problem was. Apparently, his dad donated stuff he doesn’t want outside of the family.”
Brina blinks slowly, her eyes wide.
Yeah, I know the feeling.
“His reaction doesn’t make sense. I can get not wanting people to see all of his family’s private moments, but the way he went off...it was a little scary.”
“They must have a strained relationship. Did you ask about it?”
“Of course. He basically barked crap at me and kept saying I didn’t need to be mixed up with his dad.”
“Odd. It’s almost like he’s trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“Did you Google?”
“Ugh, not yet. It’s been a marathon since we set this up, and now I’m almost afraid to go down that hole. It might have sharp teeth.”
She shrugs. “It’s probably nothing, just a messy divorce or something. I bet he was a deadbeat or Ward’s too deep in the drama to set his own head straight. Mag broke up with me twice to ‘protect my reputation.’ He also thinks he’s way more of a bad boy billionaire than he actually is. For a while, he thought he was shielding me from family crap too.”
I grin. “He was so stupid.”
“And now he’s a sweetheart. I think I’m starting to love happy endings even more than Mom,” she says with a saucy smile. “Why would Ward and his dad have such a rotten relationship, though?”
I pick up a couch pillow and hug it.
“You tell me. He’s a doting grandson and still bosses his little brother around like they’re kids. It’s kind of adorable.”
Brina nods. “So, he cares about his family. If he’s not cool with his dad, there has to be a reason.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t put it off. I should just pull those skeletons out of the closet and be glad they’re not mine.”
Brina pulls her phone out. “Don’t worry. I got this.”
I laugh, pick up my phone, and join her in pulling up Beatrice’s bio. I’ve probably read it ten times, but always glossed over the family stuff.
She has one son. Victor Brandt. That’s a good place to start.
Brina rocks her heels, giddy with excitement. “Feels like the good old days with you and I living together. I miss them sometimes. But I wouldn’t trade it for my husband.”
I’m sure she wouldn’t. I’m jealous, but I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be happy more than Sabrina Heron.
I type Victor Brandt into the search engine. A picture of a scruffy middle-aged man with Ward’s stormy eyes pops up on the screen and the results are...long.
Jesus. This guy was plastered all over the news.
“He was married to a woman named Giselle,” Brina says. “Simms is her name now, but she was a Brandt for a while.”
“I hope his parents’ divorce wasn’t the trauma. So many people have divorced parents and aren’t monsters. If that’s his excuse...”
“I don’t think so.” Brina doesn’t look up from her tablet, pursing her lips. “His parents seem—adventurous.”
“Adventurous?” I echo.
Brina gives a pained snicker.
“Scandalous. I was trying to be polite.”
“His dad filed for bankruptcy a few years ago,” I say, reading over the article.
Is that what Ward’s so worried about? I could see how a past stained with financial ruin could
give pause to someone entering a massive business deal, but it’s his dad’s beef, not his. And Victor apparently separated from Brandt Ideas long before the bankruptcy occurred.
“Looks like his mom’s been engaged to two multimillionaires and a billionaire in the past five years. Whoa,” Brina hisses. “She’s currently single again and seems to be on the prowl. So says The Chicago Tea.”
“Oh, man, Ward hates that blog so much.” I laugh. “Rich cougar, huh?”
“Well, she’s strutting her stuff pretty hard on the ’gram. Of course, she only flirts with a certain profile of guys...” Brina meets my eyes and bites her lip, seeing something on the screen that hurts. “I sometimes can’t blame men for being such swinging dicks when women like this exist.”
I shake my head with a sigh.
“But it’s not okay. We don’t get to assume that every man we come into contact with is a crap sandwich just because some guys are.”
“I think we do assume. We’re just not allowed to say it.”
I go through the search links. Victor has a thing for rich and famous women. “Seems Daddy Brandt likes a certain type too. He changes girlfriends every six months, but the last lady he set his sights on accused him of harassing her. She said he wouldn’t leave her alone when it was over. Looks like it was a sugar arrangement.”
“Creep,” Brina spits. “I hate men like that.”
Don’t we all.
But the second page of hits is completely different. Everything becomes all about the Brandt-Parnell incident or the Parnell-Brandt incident. The third headline down catches my eye.
“Victor and Giselle Brandt Suspected in Dylan Parnell’s Death!”
Parnell? I’ve heard that name before but I don’t know where.
“Any clue who Dylan Parnell is? Was, I mean?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah! He was dreamy. When I was growing up, he was in some big movies with all the hot guys like Ridge Barnet. My mom always had a thing for him too, but when I asked her why he wasn’t making new movies, she told me he died in the nineties. Freaked me out. He was so young!”
I look up, my belly twisting.
“Ohhh, crap. I totally forgot all this!” Brina says. “When was it again? I have to know.”