Page 69 of The Exception

“Sometimes the rooms on a yacht have Pullman berths. They fold out from the wall like a Murphy bed.”

I glanced around, looking for signs of a cavity in the wall. Something, anything, that might fold out and turn into another bed. But there was nothing. A small closet with hangers, and a door that led to a beautiful en suite bathroom.

“This is never going to work.” I flopped down onto the mattress with a huff. There was a chair. A bed. And the floor.

But even more than our current predicament, I was referring to our relationship. To the way Graham continued to hold me at a distance both in private and in public. We were supposed to be married, for crying out loud. And he’d kept a huge fucking secret about something that affected me personally.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Great.” I tossed him a pillow, not even bothering to argue. He’d offered; I was more than happy to take him up on it. Perhaps I was being childish, but I was angry. I didn’t want to share the same room, let alone the same bed.

“Fantastic.” He took it and dropped it on the carpet.

I grabbed a blanket and tossed it to him as well. “Here.”

He grunted and added it to his pile. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I can’t believe you hacked my blog. Why would you do that?”

“I needed to know who was behind it.”

Seriously?

“Yes, seriously,” he said, making me realize I’d voiced the question aloud. He just had to control everything, know everything, didn’t he?

That answer wasn’t good enough.

“Did you do anything…malicious?”

I hadn’t noticed anything. But why would I? I hadn’t realized someone had been able to hack my site, period. It made me feel exposed. I wanted to increase my cybersecurity.

“As I said, I was merely looking for information.”

I searched for a robe, yanking it off the hook in the bathroom. “And did you find what you were looking for?”

He unbuttoned his shirt, smoothing it out before hanging it in the small closet that was hidden in a recess in the wall. “I found you, didn’t I?”

How could he be so calm? I felt as if I was going to explode. And the fact that he was so,sounruffled was only adding to my irritation.

“Wait…” I stilled, putting the pieces together. “You knew in Ixtapa that I was Gilded Lily. Did you invite me there? Was it some sort of trap?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “No. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“You could’ve sent me an email. Called me on the phone. Texted.” Any number of things, really.

“Would you have responded?” he asked.

“You never gave me the chance,” I said, not sure how to answer. But this wasn’t about me; this was about him. And I wasn’t going to let him turn the conversation around on me. “Is this something you do often? Hack into websites?”

He was quiet for so long, I figured he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said, “When necessary.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Define necessary.” Because I wasn’t sure that discovering the identity of the blogger behindGilded Lilywas necessary, strictly speaking.

“To protect the people I love.”

“Mm.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And you felt that you needed to violate my privacy toprotect the people you love.” It seemed like a flimsy excuse to me. “Did you really feel that threatened by a few blog posts?”

“I don’t think you realize the power you have as Gilded Lily.”

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