“Thank you,” she whispers.
I lean over until my lips are against the shell of her ear, smiling when she shivers. “Don’t you know, Skittle? I’d do anything for you.”
Twenty-Nine
Linda
I wash my hands before dabbing at my lipstick where it is a little smeared, thanks to Asher and his insistent lips. I touch up my face, taking in the flush of my cheeks and the sparkle in my eye and smile happily. Happy with the person staring back at me, happy with the person who has made me feel this way.
It has been an evening filled with new faces and forgettable names, but I played the dutiful wife knowing how important it was to Asher and found that it wasn’t half as bad as some of the events I had been forced to attend growing up. Maybe it’s because I’m older, but mostly I think it’s because of the man who has barely left my side all night.
I turn to the sound of the door opening and see the sex doll from earlier, Dawn, Asher’s former stepmother. Lovely.
“Bathrooms are funny places for women. They’re places for ex-wives and fake fiancées to compare notes,” she drawls.
I don’t answer her, just grab my bag from the countertop and move to make my way around her, but she grabs my bicep to halt my movements.
“Oh, honey, don’t stand there thinking your shit doesn’t stink. I don’t know what you did to convince him to hire you instead of me, but you should watch your back.”
I stare at her pretty face that's twisted into something ugly thanks to the sneer that mars it and frown.
“You must have me confused with someone else,” I tell her honestly, baffled by her words.
“Cut the crap. I know everything about your little sham of an engagement because Asher asked me first. If I had known there was someone else in the pipeline, I’d have fucked him real good. He’d have forgotten you in a heartbeat with my lips wrapped around his cock,” she crassly informs me. She must see that my confusion is genuine because she starts cackling like the witch she obviously is. “You don’t know? Christ, what line did he give you?”
I shake my head, my anger growing with each of her words. “Lady, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but if you don't get your fucking hand off me, we are going to have a problem,” I spit at her, trying to remember where I am and who I’m here with.
It wouldn’t look good on Asher if I knocked someone out in the bathroom, especially given the nature of the benefit.
“He needed a fake fiancée. Someone to make his image look good for the company he’s trying to purchase. He offered me fifty-thousand dollars to stick with him for the duration of the negotiations, then another fifty to leave quietly. For whatever reason, he chose to use you instead, although I had no idea you didn’t know what was going on,” she admits, seemingly confused as I feel the world spinning around me.
I can think of a reason why he wouldn’t go through with it, though. He found out he was married.
“How long?” I choke out.
“How long what?” she asks, looking uncomfortable now that she made her play without all the facts.
“How long did he want you to stay with him?” I grit out, my legs shaking as I wait for the anvil to drop.
“Three months,” she answers over the din of my heart exploding. I take a deep breath, and when that doesn’t work, I take in another and another, each one more painful than the last as tiny fragments of my broken heart stab me from the inside out.
I pull away from her without giving her a second thought and head back out toward the ballroom to find Asher. I refuse to believe her words blindly without talking to him first.
Walking under the pretty flower archway that matches the centerpieces on the tables, I scan the room for him, spotting him and Graham talking over by the rose-covered arbor in the corner with their backs to me. Rubbing my damp hands over the material of my dress, I pull my shoulders back and hold my head up high. This is all going to be a big misunderstanding that we’ll joke about later. No way would my husband let me fall in love with him if it was all a con. He is not that cruel.
I paste on a fake smile, not wanting to upset Asher and cause a scene when I tell him what happened, but my footsteps falter the closer I get to him.
“I still can’t believe you pulled this off,” I hear Graham say to Asher with clear respect in his voice.
“I’m hurt that you ever doubted me, man,” Asher says, slapping him on the back, perhaps a touch harder than necessary.
“Yeah, what the fuck ever. I’m still trying to figure out what Linda sees in you.”
Of course, he gets my name right now.
“I’m awesome, and we both know it. You better have that twenty grand ready, my friend. A deal is a deal.” He laughs as my heart bleeds out less than a foot from him.
“Only you could come out of this deal twenty grand richer. Not to mention you didn’t even have the expense of a wedding. You always were a lucky bastard,” Graham mutters in mock disgust.
“But I’ll admit this company is as good as ours. You said it yourself. We are offering Peterson the best deal, and with Morris out of the running, he would be a fool not to take it. Plus, with the way Gregory has been watching Linda all night, I have no doubt he will go running back to Peterson and tell him all about your bride and how loved up you are. He wanted us to be engaged or married, and we both gave him that. In fact, we did everything he asked of us. Trust me, that resort is ours,” Graham continues, unaware of the damage his words are inflicting.
“Don’t jinx it. We still have six weeks until the deal goes through. Peterson could change his mind,” Asher warns him, his words making bile rush up my throat.
“Or your wife could wake up and leave your ass before then.” Graham laughs as I turn and flee.
I can’t listen anymore. I don’t need to, I’ve heard enough. I slip off my heels and run, ignoring the startled shouts from the people I bump into. When I spill out onto the street, it's just in time to see a cab pulling up. I don't hesitate before sliding into the worn backseat and telling the driver to take me home. No, not home. To Asher’s place.
I ask him to wait when we arrive, telling him I’ll pay him double, which he happily agrees to. I dash through the parking entrance, ignoring everyone as I head straight up to the penthouse for what will be the last time. It takes me three tries to get the door open with my shaking hands. When I do, I tear through the apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind me.
I struggle with the zipper on the dress, wanting to rip it from my body with my bare hands. The gown I felt like a princess in just hours before is now too tight, making my chest constrict as I heave, trying to suck in lungfuls of air, but it's not enough.
I pull at the material as it finally gives, peeling it from my body until I’m left standing in the pretty lilac underwear I planned on surprising Asher with later. Tears run in rivers down my cheeks, soaking my skin, but I swipe at them angrily as I make a beeline for the bedroom.
I yank on the first pair of jeans I lay my hands on. Same with the tank and sweatshirt. I shove my feet into some pumps, not caring how I look. I just need to be gone before Asher gets back. Sliding the rings from my finger where Asher had placed them just hours before, I drop them on the bed with the necklace and move to the closet.