Page 4 of Make Believe

“This isn’t over,” I snarl at Logan.

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, Hughes. I’m quaking in my boots.”

For a second, I hold his gaze, long enough for him to swallow nervously.

Gotcha.I mean it. He’s going to rue the day he ever fucked with me.

With one last disdainful flick of my eyes up and down the body I used to worship, I shake off my friends and storm toward the front door. I’m not in the mood to party anymore.

I’ve got revenge to plan.

CHAPTER 2

Rafferty

The atmospherein the back of the limo is tense. I can usually muster up the energy to play nice when it’s for a charity event, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to toe the line when I’m faced with such barely concealed contempt.

My wife and I do not love each other. I’m not certain we ever loved each other. For a time, when we were first married in a match that was beneficial to both our families and their businesses, we had common goals. Seeing as we are both undeniably hard workers, we strove toward those goals together, and for a few years, it felt like contentment.

I find happiness in success. No one who truly knows us would ever dare to call our marriage a success now, unless they are referring to how well we manage to deceive the public and the tabloids.

I wish it didn’t matter. Why do they care? I’ve begged Charleen for a divorce more times than I can count, but she says that it would destroy everything we’ve built over the past twenty-five years. My argument that if it can be ruined that easily then maybe it wasn’t that strong to begin with has been steadfastly ignored.

So I put up with it. I barely have to see her unless there are cameras present or if our son, Logan, is going to be around. I’m sure we’re not fooling him, but that’s what we do in this family. We lie.

I know he’s gay and refuses to come out, no doubt thanks to his mother and her rotten parents. They’re the kind of people who aren’t openly prejudiced but I have no doubt it’s left Logan with the distinct impression he’d be quietly disowned if he ever confessed to his sexuality publicly. It makes me sick, and it’s certainly twisted him into a young man I barely recognize anymore.

Charleen spends most of her time in California with her younger architect lover. I suspect she always wanted to be with someone a great deal more malleable than I am. She likes to take charge, but so do I. For the life of me, I don’t understand why we don’t just end this sham marriage so she can go off into the sunset with her pretty little boy toy.

As for me, I don’t have the strength to even consider a relationship. My business is my priority, and the thought of juggling a secret affair on top of managing my family just makes me feel exhausted. Discrete trysts and occasional filthy private parties generally see that my needs get met. There’s usually a pretty little treat looking for a sugar Daddy to pamper her, even if it’s only for a night.

Lies, lies, lies. That’s all the McKennas have. I’m sick of it. This evening has been increasingly grating after Charleen made us later and later for the benefit dinner, then spent the whole drive bitching at me like it was somehow my fault.

She’s not a bad person. Not really. It’s just sometimes people aren’t meant to be together. They actively bring out the worst in each other simply by standing next to one another.

I don’t think I can do this anymore.

Charleen blinks at me, and I feel a shift in the air between us.

“I beg your pardon?”

Shit.I said that out loud, didn’t I?

I sigh and look at her. She is stunning. Age has only made her more refined, more powerful. I can understand why that puppy of an architect is besotted with her. But as we sit in the back of the limo, I see clearer than ever that we’re simply two magnets pointing the wrong way at each other.

“Nothing. We’re nearly there,” I say, jutting my chin to indicate the tall hotel we’re approaching.

Usually, I spend my time between our home in Albertson and the nearby towns where a lot of my business is wrapped up. Including Paddle Creek—a foolish investment that I’ve been wasting my time on for more than fifteen years. Sunk cost fallacy dictates I should sell up and walk away. But I’ve been trying my best to remodel that town for so long, and I’m a stubborn mule when I want to be. I’m holding out until I can get my way. It’s not like my other developments are suffering from it.

But sometimes I do get too obsessed, so it’s good to get away into the city every now and again. The fundraiser is on the northern outskirts of Indianapolis, and I’m sure it will do us both good to mingle with society for an evening.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again, Rafferty,” Charleen snips.

“Neither am I,” I observe.

We are genuinely pulling up the drive to the hotel now and there’s nothing else I feel like adding. But I know she needs to get her opinion across whether I like it or not, so I resign myself to getting an earful.

“We’re not children. Nor are we trailer trash. We present a united, successful front so that confidence in us does not waver from our peers, investors, colleagues, or even acquaintances. Wearethis company. If you’ve got a slip of a thing desperate for a big society wedding, tell her now that it’s never going to happen.The McKenna family name always has and always will come first.”

---