Page 92 of Sins & Secrets

My sweetheart is obviously full of hurt and pain and insecurity. In a room full of fake assholes brimming with confidence and arrogance, my Jules doesn’t belong.

I wonder if everyone else in this room can see it as clearly as I do. I was wrong to bring her. I could have found another way. My father’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Miss Harrington will be there, and she made it clear she’s interested.”

Marcy Harrington’s an investor who likes to get close with her clients and “know” them before writing a check with her family inheritance. Promiscuous would be a kind word to use. In addition, she’s practically untouchable, and always gets what and who she wants.

“This is about appearances, not business. I couldn’t give two shits about business right now.”

“Appearances?” my father asks, and I feel my hands clench at my sides. He knows damn well what the papers are saying.

“I’d like the world to know that I’m not beating her behind closed doors.”

My father shrugs as if the rumor swirling around the city isn’t a concern in the least. “I’d like to know what you are doing behind closed doors. Or more importantly … what’s being said between you two,” he says, turning his body to follow my gaze. She’s vanished though, wherever she’s gone.

As my eyes drift back to him, I feel the accusations rise.Now’s not the time or place, I think over and over as my forehead furrows and I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from grabbing him. My muscles are tense, and the words are on the tip of my tongue.

There’s no use in letting them out though, because I know he’ll just lie. He’s damn good at it and so used to it, I doubt he knows the truth from a lie anymore.

“We should have a meeting soon,” I say easily, completely at odds with my true feelings. “Business and otherwise.”

My father’s brows raise slightly, and he looks genuinely surprised. “Of course,” he says, patting me on the back. “I trustit’s about the matter from the other night?” he asks although it’s said as a statement.

“It is,” I say, feeling the ball of rage grow larger, getting harder to contain. I clear my throat and glance back to where Jules disappeared, only to see her good friend and editor Katerina striding toward me.

My face stays neutral, with no emotions expressed whatsoever as she approaches.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” my father says beneath his breath, turning his back to Kat and walking away without waiting for me to acknowledge him.

Kat approaches me with an expression of distrust, an air about her that makes it obvious she’s here because she hasn’t heard from Jules. I thought about responding to her messages myself. Jules received texts from so many people feigning concern, but really wanting gossip. And then her friends, who seem genuinely worried.

Before she stops in front of me, I force a small smile to my lips, one that’s welcoming. I’m already losing my sweetheart; I need to play this right.

“Mason.” Kat states my name as if she’s ready for a fight, but that’s not how this is going to go down. She just doesn’t know it yet.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Kat,” I say and nod my head slightly. “Have you seen Jules already?” I play up the concern in my own voice and expression, and watch as her anger slips and her forehead pinches. She finally looks behind her for only a moment before turning her attention back to me.

“We just got here. She’s here?”

“You came with Evan?” I ask her. Her husband is well known in the public relations industry, although he travels with an entirely different sort of social circle. The industry has treated him well, but he’s rarely home. That’s the angle I have. Twocouples; the men friends, the women friends. She’ll trust me. She’ll help me. At least I pray she will.

“I did,” she says and peers to her right, closer to the entrance before clearing her throat and adding, “He’s here somewhere.” She licks her lips and squares her shoulders, remembering what she’s come here to yell at me about.

I cut her off before she can begin by saying, “I’d really like it if you could talk to Jules.” Jules’s name on my lips and the thought of someone talking to her privately makes apprehension creep into my veins at the possibility of her spilling the truth. I shrug it off and use the intensity of the truth to help create the lie. “She’s taking the wedding situation a little bit hard.”

Kat watches me for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she assesses my words. I lean forward, dropping my voice and letting the insecurity that is all too real show. “She’s not okay,” I tell her. “She could really use a friend right now.”

“I haven’t spoken to her in over a week,” Kat says, confiding in me and I don’t let on that I know it’s uncommon for Jules not to return a call. I play my emotions as I should.

“I’m not sure shewantsto talk about it”—I can see Kat’s objection on the tip of her tongue and I say it before she can—“but she needs to.”

Kat’s mouth stays parted and she tilts her head, still judging my request as her husband walks up behind her.

“Evan.” I pull back from Kat and press my lips into an acceptable smile. One that reflects my unease for what Jules is going through. At least that’s what it shows Kat. A part of me feels like a prick, like the manipulative asshole I am, undeserving of Jules. But I already knew I wasn’t good enough for her, and this show, this front, is all to save us. To save what we have.

“Thatcher, how are you, man?”

A huff of a grunt leaves me as I rock back on my heels and shove my hands in my suit pockets. “That’s my father’s name,” I say jokingly and Evan laughs deep from his chest, raising a tumbler of amber liquid to his lips. The ice clinks in his glass as he wraps his arm around his wife’s waist.

“You two make quite the couple,” I say, complimenting them. They have definitely been the talk of the city on more than one occasion.

---