Page 145 of The Worst Best Man
Frankie stopped mid-stride. “Look. Let’s just get this over with, okay? I’ve had a long day. Just drop the subterfuge and spill it.”
“I came to offer my condolences,” he said, grinning devilishly as if he relished every word. “The news is breaking right now.”
He handed her his phone and Frankie gave the screen a careless glance.
Once a bachelor, always a bachelor. Aiden Kilbourn throws over girlfriend for hotel fling with socialite.
The pictures. God. The pictures. Aiden with Margeaux Fucking Assface in his arms on a city sidewalk. Their heads were tilted toward each other, faces serious. It looked… intimate. Aiden in his limo with Margeaux cuddled up against his side. She was pouting for the selfie while he looked at his phone. Then Aiden and Margeaux getting out of the car in front of a hotel and Margeaux leaning into him, pressing a kiss to his mouth.
Frankie was going to murder someone. She just wasn’t sure who to start with.
Wordlessly, she handed the phone back to Elliot.
“He’s not the guy you thought he was,” Elliot said. “He’s selfish and cruel and only cares about himself.”
Frankie started to walk away. Her gut was roiling with anger and pain and confusion.
“There’s a SnapChat video too. But you probably don’t need to see that,” he said, picking up the pace to keep up with her. “And there’s one more thing.”
Frankie pinched her lips shut. She was going to throw up. Or scream. Or both.
“Aiden’s the reason Chip dumped your friend all those years ago.”
“What did you just say?” Frankie came to a screeching halt.
“He and Chip were talking at my parents’ house. They didn’t know I was around. They never did.”
Frankie saw the bitterness in Elliot’s eyes.
“Chip mentioned he was thinking about proposing soon. But Aiden didn’t like that. He told Chip that he didn’t think Pruitt was a good match. That she wouldn’t be the kind of partner he’d need. Chip didn’t see what he was doing, but I did.”
“What was he doing?” Her phone vibrated again, and she knew without looking it was Aiden.
“He was pulling strings like a puppet master. Kilbourns learn it from birth. How to make people do what you want them to do. He ‘guided’ Chip to the same conclusion, telling him Pruitt was too immature, too needy. She wouldn’t be the right partner for him.”
“Why would he do that?” Frankie asked, her voice barely a whisper. Why would Aiden ruin Chip’s happiness? Why would he set into motion years of misery and pain for Pruitt?
“Who knows?” Elliot shrugged. “Maybe he wanted her for himself? Maybe he couldn’t stand seeing his friend happy? The point is, he’s not the man you thought he was.”
“Go home, Elliot,” Frankie said quietly. A ton of bricks had just leveled her. And worse, she hadn’t seen them coming. She should have known better.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he offered, still smiling over whatever triumph he’d achieved by carving her out and leaving her bleeding.
“No. You’re not.”
She walked away, and this time, he didn’t stop her. He left whistling a happy little tune.
Frankie’s phone vibrated again. She pulled it out. Aiden.
He’d called four times so far. Pru called too. But she wasn’t prepared to talk. She needed to go someplace. And home was no longer an option.
He’d find her there.
She turned around and let herself back into the darkened office. Locking the door securely behind her, Frankie took her laptop upstairs to the conference room and sat in the dark.
She brought up the first gossip blog she could think of and forced herself to read the article, to look at the pictures. “Oh, shit. There really is a video,” she murmured to herself. Frankie didn’t consider herself a coward under the worst circumstances, but it still took her nearly five minutes to push play.
It was Margeaux—that nasty asshole—laying across the leather of a limo bench seat. Her head was in a man’s lap. He was wearing a gray suit, just like Aiden’s in the pictures. She was toying with his tie, stroking his thigh. “Heading to the Manchester for some afternoon delight,” she purred. Frankie wanted to break her laptop, snap it in half, set it on fire. Anything to get the image of Margeaux and Aiden out of her head. A hand in the video swooped down to stroke over Margeaux’s jaw.
