Page 17 of Marry Lies
I shake my head. “No, but I do know we both want something quick and small. She keeps talking about the courthouse in Crestwood—the building is beautiful, after all—but we’ll see what happens,” I add, grinning. “I know we’re both eager to get married soon.”
“Oh, how charming,” Wendy coos. She places a hand on my arm as the other men clamber inside of the elevator. I internally cringe at her intimate touch. “You know, I think I was entirely wrong about you, Mr. Ravage. I think we’re going to be very happy working with Ravage Consulting Firm. Please give Stella my love,” she says, walking into the elevator with the others.
As soon as the doors shut, I hear Chase clear his throat.
I twist around and walk away. “Not now,” I growl, suddenly feeling like I’m going to suffocate under the self-made mountain of deception. I loosen my tie, feeling claustrophobic as my skin burns with the massive lie I just told to our new clients.
What the fuck did I just do?
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Chase says, chuckling as he follows me into my office and closes the door.
I quickly remove my tie, discarding it to the floor. Standing behind my desk, I place both hands on top of the cherry wood as I hang my head.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “What just happened?”
“I believe you just got engaged to a woman named Estelle Deveraux and planned a courthouse wedding, all without her knowledge,” Chase offers brightly.
“Fuck off and stop being facetious,” I growl.
“Look, I assume you know this Stella woman, right?”
I sigh. “It’s a long story.”
I hadn’t told Chase about what happened last week. Truth be told, I’m not proud of my actions. Leaving her there to contend with our fathers while I ran away like a coward… and now I’m spreading rumors that we’re engaged…
I’m a fucking asshole.
Chase sits down on the couch across from my desk as I bask in my self-loathing. “Well, it’s a good thing our next meeting is cancelled,” he says, smirking. “You have time to tell me what happened.”
I sigh and run a hand over my face before I explain the fountain last year—skipping over the part in the taxi—and then the lunch with our father and Prescott Deveraux last week. When I get to the part about walking out of the lunch, Chase chuckles and shakes his head.
I glare at him. “Is something funny?” I ask, frowning.
“Sorry, it’s just…you have a lot of groveling to do.”
“What do you mean?”
Chase shrugs. “Estelle is likely to find out about your fib soon. And then what? You better be prepared to intercept the news. And, because we want to please our newest clients, you should be willing to make sure she agrees to marry you.”
I groan and close my eyes as I lean back in my seat. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“Oooh, say it again,” Chase teases.
“I thought I told you to fuck off?”
He laughs and then stands up. “I never thought I’d see you get married before me,” he says wistfully. “I’m a little bit jealous, to be honest.”
I grunt. “You can thank my big fucking mouth for that.”
“Juliet is going to lose it when I tell her,” he adds, laughing. “We’ve taken bets on when you’ll find someone.”
I look up and send the most hateful glare I can muster toward my brother. “You’re joking.”
He opens my office door and shrugs. “Looks like she’s going to win this bet. She’ll never let me hear the end of it, so thanks for that. Why couldn’t you have waited two weeks? I put money on November.”
“Leave,” I grit out. “Now.”
He’s still laughing when he walks out of my office.
