Page 220 of Vows We Never Made
None of them are fucking good.
What if he tries to drag Hattie down, too?
I can see the headlines now.
No Bookish Fairy Tale for Struggling Ex-Fiancée of Disgraced Blackthorn Heir!
That’s not the press she needs.
Fuck, if that happens, nothing will stop me from murdering this man. But his goal isn’t Hattie.
She’s a means to an end—to get to me—and that’s a bridge we can cross later. Right now, I need to defuse Cooper Daley’s bomb.
I came here with a plan. This revelation, though unpleasant, doesn’t change anything.
I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers.
“Go ahead,” I growl.
Cooper blinks. “Go ahead and what?”
“Go tell the whole world if that’s what makes you feel better. Knock yourself out. Tell them what you think you know. Spreadyour ugly gossip and rumors to the moon and back.” I hold his gaze and smile.
Clearly infuriating, judging by the way his mouth curls and his cheekbones redden.
“And you’re fine with that?” he demands.
“Sure. What will hearsay prove?” I lean forward, cocking my head mockingly. “What do you really have on me? An eavesdropping waiter is hardly a smoking gun.”
For a second, he bares his teeth.
Yes, it’s a dangerous game, daring him to destroy me.
But I’m done letting the past control me when it’s cost me so much.
What happened was a tragedy, a cruel mistake, but it’s petrified to ancient history now. It’s not too late to own it on my terms.
It won’t be a slave to anyone but karma.
And it won’t cost me Hattie.
For her, I’ll suffer, even if my reputation goes to tatters.
Somehow, I don’t think it will.
Daley hoped to rattle me into an angry confession right here, served up on a silver platter. I’m sure he’s recording this conversation. He thought he could punch the right buttons and let me hang myself, but he’s going to wind up hog-tied instead.
The bell above the door jingles and I look up, just in time to see Margot storming in, still wearing the same clothes from last night. The elegant bun of her hair looks more like a haystack from what must’ve been a very rough night.
And behind her—Hattie.
My heart stalls.
She’s paler and smaller than the last time I saw her.
Her cheeks have hollowed slightly. Her collarbones stand in sharp relief above her loose pink cotton shirt with the outline ofa succulent printed on it. Her hair, pinned up tight, when she normally lets those gold locks flow free.
A bitter growl rises in my throat, knowing she won’t feel as soft if I run my hand down her hip.
