Page 127 of The Wrong Sister
“Maeve.” Another warning.
“Yes, Ezra?” she says, turning to me with a raised brow.
“We need to sell it.”
“Then why are you not trying?”
I stare at her face, waiting for her to elaborate. And so she does.
“You’ve been acting off this evening. And I don’t know why.”
“Don’t you?” My voice drops while her brows draw together in confusion.
“I do not,” she replies slowly. Her eyes dart toward me.And this is the moment when I feel a sharp ping of doubt. No one can look that innocent while lying.
Or she’s a very good actress. I remind myself how we met and how much she hated me. No way she suddenly developed these new feelings for me other than hatred.
But you have, haven’t you? Maybe she did the same?my subconscious asks quietly, but I shove it down, refusing to acknowledge that it might be right. That I’ve developedthe needfor my wife.
Was money and power all she wanted? Was the past month a lie?
But this is what you offered in return, didn’t you?
I shove my inner voice even deeper, hoping to never hear it again.
The door opens on my side, and I step out, waiting for Maeve to accept my hand. She accepts it without a fuss and plasters a wide smile on her beautiful, traitorous face.
Flashes are everywhere. Everyone wants to see the new Mrs. King. They have questions and speculations about the urgency of the marriage, hoping to dig an old skeleton from a closet. They’ll find one eventually—those vultures always do. And this is precisely why we need to appear as a happy couple.
I’ll deal with her and Jeff later. I started all of this to keep my company. Dreaming about getting something else out of this deal is ridiculous.
“Mr. King, show us your Ms. Wrong!” someone cries out from the crowd of lights.
This draws my attention, and I turn toward the voice. Placing a firm hand on her lower back, I announce loud and clear, “She’s Mrs. King now. Please, address her accordingly.”
They think I’m joking, judging by a few chuckles here and there. But I’m not. I’m dead serious. I hate them calling her anything but my name. And she knows it. A light tremorruns through her body, telling me she likes it too. I tighten my grip, moving my hand to her side and pressing her into me. She smiles at the cameras, looking happy and relaxed. In reality, she’s barely breathing. Further proof that she can be a good actress when needed.
A few moments later, we walk inside. The talking stops as soon as we enter. Everyone is curious. And not only about me being married. They also want to know who the new bride is, and why she hasn’t been seen in society yet. I wondered that too at first since I’ve heard the Wrong’s name before. But they have been living all their lives in Rhode Island, and they have a society of their own I prefer to stay away from. I knew he was from old money and that he had a family, but I wasn’t interested in him enough to learn more. Until he was introduced to my company as an investor. And even then, I never heard of him having two kids. Never. Such a prick. At least my father was shoving his two sons into everyone’s faces.
After a quick glance around, I see the first vultures heading our way. And I press Maeve deeper into my side.
“Look who it is,” my father says with a loud laugh. “My other son decided to grant us with his presence.”
Meaning Noah is already here. Good. We need an ally.
“Hello, Father.” Keeping my voice neutral might help me get through the evening without succumbing to a fight.
“Well, well, well.” He completely ignores me, focusing his beady eyes on Maeve. “Isn’t that one of the little Wrongs hiding under your short wing? I sure never imagined that Wrong would drop so low as to sell his own daughter.”
The desire to roll my eyes at his childish insults at me is strong, but when he talks about Maeve, the anger burns. The best course of action is to keep my mouth shut, or he’ll think he’s getting to me. I’m about to open my mouth with a random question to divert his attention from Maeve whenshe leans her head on my arm while her open palm lands on my chest.
“There’s nothing short about Ezra, Mr. King.” Then her voice turns even more sugary. “Nothing.”
Someone lets out a loud snort and tries to mask it with a cough.
My father’s sharp eyes shift their attention from me to her, and she’s in the line of fire now. He’d better keep his mouth shut—I might ignore his insults toward me, but I will fire back if his tongue touches her.
“And where did he find you?”
