Page 188 of Keeping Kasey
It’s the same one he wore at the hotel bar.
I click on the photo and search for a date, though I already know what it’ll show me.
This photo was taken three days ago.
While I spent the evening at the manor alone, he was withher.
The woman made for him.
His future wife.
And yet, last night, he was in bed withme.
The disgust and shame hit me along with a sadness that I cannot deny because, more than anything else in the world, I want this to be a lie.
With my tears dried and my heart sufficiently crushed, I print one of the pictures and close out of the program as the computer at my side beeps.
The list is fully rendered.
The names, positions, and addresses of each of the nearly two hundred traitors are perfectly organized on a list that I send to the printer under encryption so others in the database can’t access it.
I take the list, seal it in an envelope, and leave Ford’s office.
I’m grateful to make it to Damon’s office without passing anyone. I don’t particularly care what anyone here thinks of me, but I’d rather no one witness my weakness.
I knock on the door to Damon’s office, and he calls me in.
He stands the second he sees me. “What happened? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”
Instead of answering, I toss the picture of Logan and Isabella on his desk.
Damon curses under his breath. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Please,” I whisper. “You’ve never lied to me before, so please don’t start now.”
He looks down at the picture and swallows. “You should talk to Logan.”
“Did you know he was with her the other night?”
“The Romanos hosted the event, so I knew she’d be there, yes.”
I nod, the pain slicing through me over and over again. I keep waiting for it to stop, but it just seems to sharpen with every second that passes.
“Is he going to marry her?”
“Why are you asking me and not him?”
I drop my gaze.
“Don’t ask for honesty unless you’re going to return it,” he snaps, and it’s the first time he’s ever snapped at me.
“Because I’ll accept any answer he gives me if it means I can have him,” I admit, meeting Damon’s gaze with as much dignity as I can muster. “And I deserve more than that.”
Damon doesn’t attempt to hide his torn contemplation.
“Is he going to marry her?” I repeat.
“I don’t think he means it.”
