Page 64 of Dirty Little Secrets
Emery shrugs, a coy smile clipping her lips. “Just trying to fit in.”
“Well, you’re doing a marvelous job, darling,” Quinton says. “A beautiful woman like yourself should always have diamonds wrapped around her neck.” His gaze flicks to her bare right hand. “Necklaces are so much more symbolic than rings.”
Quinton’s smug smirk burns a crater in my fraying composure. The diamonds around Emery's neck glint like little shards of broken glass, mocking me, taunting me. And then it hits me. She didn’t buy that necklace. The truth gnaws at my insides.Hedid.
Emery blinks. “Are they?”
“Mhmm,” Quinton hums. “But Cavanaugh here has always been more drawn to rings.”
“Stop talking,” I seethe quietly, my hand curling into a fist, the rage building and building until it threatens to swallow me whole.
Flippantly, he ignores me, looking at Emery as he continues spewing his venomous lies like a snake hissing, “Which is ironic because he’s never been able to fully commit. At least, not in the way it matters.”
“Stop talking, Quinton,” I hiss, my breathing deep and heavy and conjuring. “Stop now.”
He shoots me a knowing side-eye, soldiering on. “But I suppose the barriers that were standing in your way are no longer with us.” My vision blurs as he adds, “Perhaps this time it’ll be different.”
Emery shrieks my name, but it's too late.
She is my downfall, and he, my demise. A destructive rage surges from the depths of my psyche, down to my arm, straight into my clenched fist.
I am powerless to stop it.
My knuckles connect with Quinton’s nose.
Blood spatters. Bone cracks. And I’m crippled. Crippled by my inability to think, to reason, to act with logic.
A blinding light explodes in my periphery, the camera’s clicks like fucking gunshots in my ears. Everything dims around me, voices muffled and muted as I stumble backward. Pain shoots through my fingers, and memories of the crash flood my mind.
Both crashes.
Emery stares at me bewildered, her frantic gaze searching mine for answers. But what can I give her? What words can possibly explain the madness that has driven me to this point?
The truth is that I don't know. All I feel is crushing loss, an emptiness that tears my soul in half. The lives that were lost. The dreams that were shattered. Everything that was taken from me in a moment of recklessness.
As Emery coils a hand around my elbow, draggingme away from the chaos, a deep sense of shame grips my chest. What the hell is wrong with me? What kind of man have I become? What kind of man have I always been?
"I..." My voice is barely a whisper, choked with emotion.
Emery's grip is fierce, her nails digging into my skin. "Air," she hisses, pulling me toward the balcony, "you need air."
THE CAGED BIRD
EMERY
I pushDamon toward the balcony, the cool evening air hitting us as we step outside.
How could he be so foolish? So careless? And in front of the paparazzi?
Damon stumbles and leans heavily against the balcony railing, his breathing ragged and uneven. I turn to face him, my hands shaking with a mixture of anger and concern. I want to scream at him, to reprimand him for his idiotic actions, but my voice catches in my throat.
He looks up at me, almost innocent, pure. “You lied to me,” Damon whispers, residual anger lingering on the tip of his tongue as he glances down at the necklace. “You…lied to me.”
I freeze as Damon's words register, his accusatorytone slicing through me. Is he seriously blaming me for his actions? It's like he's reaching for any excuse to justify his behavior. But his words also sting with a hint of truth.
“The necklace?” I ask, shaking my head. “You punched him in the face in front of dozens of reporters because of a fucking necklace?! Damon, we are here to representyourcompany. A company that, based on public opinion and stocks, is failing. What were you thinking?”
His lip twitches. "I wasn't thinking. That's the problem." He takes a purposeful step toward me, his eyes hooded and dark. "Why is it so fucking hard for you to listen to me? To obey me?"
