Page 64 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
I reach for my water. “That sounds delicious.” I order when our waiter comes by. I need a new topic to distract myself, so I can pretend everything’s fine. “Anything interesting now that you’re back? Hopefully Elizabeth didn’t dump a week’s worth of work on you, did she?”
“Nope. But she put me in charge of a new project! It uses my music training, so it’s perfect.”
“I thought you were considering Yuna’s suggestion to debut seriously,” I say. I’ve seen her play. She’s so happy and energetic, and I don’t think this new project can give her that kind of joy. I still hate the idea of her in the spotlight—the attention and danger it can bring—but I’m determined to give her the life she deserves. And if I have to hire a team of hotshot mercenaries to keep her safe, so be it.
“I thought about it, but those panic attacks were real.” Her eyes lowered, Iris tugs at her napkin. “It could be that I didn’t have them before the accident, but now…something’s changed.”
Her downcast expression hurts. Yuna’s right about Iris being a great performer, but Iris is also right about panic attacks, although I doubt they’re caused by public performances per se. The accident might’ve damaged her memory from before, but I don’t think it fundamentally changed who she is. I haven’t seen any signs—erratic mood swings, forgetfulness, weird bursts of temper and so on.
If she wants to be a concert pianist, I’m more than happy to find a way to help her cope with the panic attacks. That’s the least I owe her for my role in what happened to her that stormy night in Tempérane. I know deep inside if I hadn’t left for Los Angeles after our fight at Cajun Milan, she wouldn’t have been on that bridge. “Iris—”
The arrival of our food interrupts me. The server makes sure that our pizza is properly sliced by running the cutter one more time along the slices, then puts one on her plate and one on mine before leaving.
“It’s a good charity project,” Iris says. “And it’s fully funded. Byron already paid for it.”
“Byron Pearce?” Surely that motherfucker wouldn’t dare use the foundation and Elizabeth to get to Iris. But she nods.
My hackles rise. I feel like a man guarding a treasure everyone’s trying to steal. “Guess he didn’t take me seriously,” I mutter. This deserves a strong response.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just don’t understand why he’s funding this. His family has its own foundation. Throwing money at it would’ve earned him more Brownie points.”
“Brownie points? For what?”
“You know he’s in a battle against Milton to see who gets the family business.”
“Maybe he’s doing it with Elizabeth because he believes in her,” she says.
Iris thinks Elizabeth is the gold standard for purity and charitable spirit, and it will probably never cross her mind that Byron is a conniving fucker.
“How come you don’t like my friends?” she asks.
“I’m fine with your friends. I just don’t like him because he wants to sleep with you.”
“You know what? I’m going to show you something because you’re being ridiculous.” Iris pulls out her phone and taps the screen a few times. She flips the phone and shows me the screen.
I lean over and squint.
She scrolls down so I can see hundreds of pictures Google has pulled up. “You see all these women?”
I relax back in my seat. I thought she had something serious to show me. “Yes?”
“You slept with all of them. And I never say anything becau—”
“I never slept with any of them. Gossip rags featured me and some new woman every other month or so. That’s it.” I start to sit up straight, realizing that she must’ve had a super-low opinion of me all along. Is this why she won’t accept that what I have is hers? “What the hell, Iris? You think I just stick it in anywhere?”
“You’re a guy. And you’re hot, and rich and… I mean, one of your exes tried to kill herself because you dumped her.”
I roll my eyes. Fucking Audrey and her drama. “Oh, for God’s sake. You’re as bad as my brother. Look, didn’t you say you’re a Bösendorfer Imperial among women? So don’t you think I—a man worthy enough to be with you—would be more discriminating? That I would need at least a vintage Steinway upright, so to speak?”
She gives me an absolutely deadpan look.
Damn it.I rub my forehead, since pounding on the table in frustration won’t solve anything. “Never mind. That didn’t come out right.” I think for a moment. I haven’t felt compelled to explain or defend myself to anyone in quite a while. People’s opinions don’t mean much to me. But it’s different with Iris. I choose my words with care. “I wasn’t as indiscriminate as tabloids said. Some of the women who accompanied me to those parties made it look like we were more, and I never disputed that, since it wasn’t worth a denial.” I hesitate, debating between laying it all out and holding some back, then shake myself mentally. I’ve already done enough hiding and lying. Iris deserves to know at least this truth. “I spent the last seven years working until I was exhausted to build my company. If I’d known this day would come, I wouldn’t have let those women use me that way. I would’ve made sure my reputation was absolutely pristine.” I stop, holding my breath. It isn’t easy to be this vulnerable, even to Iris. I wait for her reaction, feeling as defenseless as a blind, hairless kitten just born into the world.
“So you haven’t had a serious girlfriend in, like, seven years?”
“I haven’t had any girlfriend in seven years.”
