Page 9 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
How is she here?A metallic, sour tang coats my tongue as I recall the way she turned away from me in my dream. It wasn’t real, but at the same time, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t hesitate to dump me if she thought I wasn’t all right in the head. She wouldn’t want to be near someone like me when she’s so perfect.
Now I wish I’d put on fresh makeup. And done my hair. Elizabeth is stunning in her designer magenta dress, like she’s just finished a photo shoot.
Suddenly, she notices me. All the shock and anger evaporate from her face, leaving only cordial warmth. Tony turns around, too, then immediately comes over and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Are you all right?” he asks in a low voice.
“Yes.” I force a smile, hoping it makes me look as fine as I claim to be. “Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”
“I came to return your purse.” Elizabeth lifts up the bag I left at Sam’s.
Was she there to see the ugliness between me and Sam? My knees start to feel a bit wobbly. I drag myself to a couch. Tony sits next to me, his arm still around my shoulders. I fold my hands neatly in my lap. “Thank you.”
She comes over and crouches by my feet, looking up at my eyes. “Iris, I’m very sorry. I didn’t know Sam was planning to hurt you. Just so you know, Tony’s going to stop Sam if he tries anything else. If that isn’t enough to put your mind at ease, please trust that I will make it my mission to ensure Sam won’t be bothering you like that again.”
I jerk back. I understand Tony protecting me, but Elizabeth? “But why…?”
“You’re part of the foundation, which means you’re one of my people. And I also happen to despise bullies.” She gives me a blinding smile, the kind that almost makes it seem like there’s a halo around her. “Don’t worry about anything and focus on getting better. You can take the next week off to recover.”
“But I don’t—”
Elizabeth squeezes my knee. “I mean it.” Standing, she turns to Tony. “We’ll talk again soon.” Then she leaves.
“Wow,” I whisper, watching her go. Then I realize something I’ve been overlooking. “How did she know about me and Sam?”
“She and I were having lunch together,” Tony says.
A clean-cut, thirtyish Asian man comes out from the den behind the kitchen. The blood red of his tie goes well with his charcoal suit and a snow-white shirt. He’s slim but on the tall side, his face sharply chiseled—large, slightly slanted eyes, surprisingly high cheekbones, a perfectly proportioned nose and a mouth that’s a bit too full and soft-looking. His hair is slicked back, and he sports a pair of rimless glasses and an open smile.
Normally, a smile like that would put me at ease. But not today.
“Everything’s been taken care of, boss,” he says to Tony. “TJ’s taking Dr. Young home, and the rest is…whatever you want to do.”
“Thanks, Wei,” Tony says. “Iris, this is Wei Song, my assistant. Wei, Iris Smith, my girlfriend.”
Wei’s smile widens, and he shakes hands with me. His grip is firm without being overly strong, and he makes direct eye contact. “A pleasure.”
“Same here,” I murmur, studying Tony’s assistant. I’ve never been to Tony’s office or run into an employee other than TJ. It’s obvious Wei is very close to Tony, but surprising how much of a polar opposite Wei is to TJ. There’s nothing Visigothic or rough-hewn about Wei’s elegant appearance.
“No wonder he’s hardly ever in the office these days,” he says, with sidelong glance at Tony. “If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call, twenty-four seven.” He hands me his card.
“Thank you.” I take it with a small smile. He’s impossible to not like. And he reminds me of… I scowl as my mind grasps at a faint glimmer of memory.
“You okay, Iris?” Tony asks. “Should I get Dr. Young to come back?”
“What? No. I’m fine. Just…thinking about something.” Wei, too, is looking at me with concern. “I’m fine now. Really. Dr. Young said I was great.”
Wei nods. “Of course. If that’s all, I’ll see you at the office, boss. Again, a pleasure, Miss Smith.” He leaves.
The moment I’m alone with Tony, my whole body collapses like a rag doll. I sag bonelessly into his arms. There’s no other word for it: mentally and emotionally, I’m exhausted.
Wordlessly, Tony sits, pulling me onto his lap and holding me. I cling to him, my eyes closed. Then, very slowly, I sigh. “Sorry.”
