Page 77 of Resisting You
I swallowed hard, struggling to juggle the drinks and Birdie, while getting out my keycard. The light blinked green and I pushed open the door to our suite, nervous about what might be waiting on the other side for me.
I gently set Birdie down on the floor and he limped over to his water bowl and bed in the corner, taking a long drink as I set our coffee and hot chocolate onto the counter.
It was silent inside our room, but it looked like a party had taken place. Snacks were strewn across the coffee table and empty bottles of Michelob Ultra littered the floor.
I stepped deeper into the suite to the bedroom where the curtains were still drawn, the air thick with the scent of stale alcohol. Noah was sprawled across the bed, half clothed but dead to the world, his arm dangling off the edge.
Beside him, crumpled on the pristine white sheets, was a black lace bra.
A bra that was definitelynotmine.
My pulse stuttered. I took a slow, careful step forward. On the nightstand near the minibar, a stack of papers caught my eye.
I picked them up, scanning the first page.
It was a contract. A movie deal, more specifically.
But not just a movie deal for Noah… but for Morgan, too.
I flipped to the second page which was a series of bullet points outlining the media strategy, not only for the movie… but for Noah.
And Morgan.
And … apparently me. For our eventual divorce.
My face went red hot. A divorce that would be pinned entirely on me.
A divorce that would paint me as an adulterer, a liar, a woman who used Noah for fame before cheating on him and tossing him aside.
I gripped the pages so tightly my fingers ached. My pulse roared in my ears as I stared down at the evidence of a betrayal so calculated it made my stomach churn.
“Noah,” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut through the fog of his unconsciousness. “Wake up.” When he barely stirred, I kicked the edge of the bed, shaking it drastically.
He groaned, turning onto his back, eyes fluttering open sluggishly. “Rosa?”
I hurled the contract at him. “Care to explain this?”
He blinked blearily at the papers, then at me. “What…?” His voice was rough with sleep and something else. Something raw. “What is… how did this get here?”
“You tell me.” I crossed my arms, my chest tightening. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re planning todestroyme. I thought we agreed to this marriage so we could each benefit. Not so you would throw me under the bus.”
He pushed himself up, rubbing his temples. “No, Rosa… that’s not the plan.”
“Bullshit.” My voice wavered, but I refused to back down. “It sure as hell looks like the plan.”
“Okay, yes, that was one person’s plan. But not mine. I’m not signing it.”
“Really?” I reached out and grabbed the papers to flip to the last page, holding my breath. Exhaling, I saw he was right; he hadn’t signed the contract yet. I took a breath, remembering Hazel’s words from last night. Maybe I need to hear him out. “Okay. So whose plan was it? Morgan’s?”
He stared at me for a long moment before sighing. “Yeah. And maybe Kristen’s? I don’t really know.”
My father’s words about Kristen being Noah’s PR agent, not mine, came back to haunt me.
I shook my head. Even though I saw the contract with my own eyes, I wasn’t sure what to feel about it. “While you’re at it, maybe explain the bra on the bed, too?”
His gaze flickered to the offending piece of lingerie, confusion shadowing his face. “That’s not—” He cut off, his brows knitting together. “I don’t know how that got here.”
“Convenient,” I snapped. “You’re telling me you don’t remember how a contract or a bra ended up in our bed the night after your bachelor party?”
