Appetizers are served, a plated dinner follows, then more cocktails, conversation, and music. It’s an evening of excess with a room full of incredibly wealthy people, and a precursor to what Bane and Ruby’s wedding will be like, if they allow Mimi to take control of it. I’m not entirely convinced that’s going to happen. Ruby, who’s very accustomed to being the center of attention, still seems overwhelmed, and that’s saying something.
I can barely eat during dinner, constantly on guard. Gwendolyn might be sitting on the opposite end of the ballroom, but she’s certainly keeping tabs on me. Not to mention, I can feel Lex’s eyes on me from the opposite side of the table. I wish we were at a long table and not a round one.
As the conflict piles on, and I watch Ruby interact with Bancroft’s family, I begin to see exactly how challenging this thing with Lex really is, with or without these new developments. If what’s happening between us becomes public the complications will grow exponentially. I won’t be able to avoid Gwendolyn or Armstrong, or the rest of his family, because it will tie me to them irrevocably. It’ll invite all kinds of new issues.
Ones I’m not sure I’m prepared for yet, even if I want to be.
It would be another messy situation that could bring more negative attention to my family. The kind I thought I was going to leave behind when I married Armstrong. As I sit here, I mourn the future I thought I would have with the version of Armstrong who didn’t really exist and my fear over the potential loss of something amazing with Lex. With him I don’t feel confined by someone else’s idea of who or what I should be. I worry that part of that freedom is rooted in the secrecy of it all.
After dinner, I busy myself with more duties that keep me away from Lex, who’s engaged in conversations with the suits. Even so, I can feel his eyes on me whenever I pass him. I know he’s concerned, but I don’t have time to acknowledge it now. And I don’t want to. All I want is to escape. To run. Because I’m scared to face all of this.
The emotions swirl with the cocktail combination swimming in my system. I should probably slow down on the wine. I excuse myself to the restroom so I can take a moment to collect myself.
I manage to make it to the foyer unaccosted. But before I can get much further I spot the one person in the entire world I definitely don’t want to see. Well, actually, there are a few people I would be happy to never see again. I have a short list of ex-boyfriends who fit that profile, but Armstrong tops that list.
He’s skulking in a corner, like some kind of creep. I make a beeline for the ladies’ bathroom, hoping I can get there before he makes it to me. I’m not quick enough in my heels. Also, I’ve had three glasses of wine and not enough food. My head isn’t a hundred percent clear and I’m a little turned around.
The hand at my elbow catches me off guard, but the mouth at my ear makes my skin crawl. “Don’t make a scene, darling.”
It’s exactly what I should do, but before I can react and make a smart decision, I’m led through the closest door, which happens to be a coatroom.
“Get your hands off me.” I yank my arm out of Armstrong’s grip and shove away from him.
There’s no residual evidence of his broken nose, the marks on his face have all disappeared, nothing compared to the marks he’s left on my heart. Not just because he broke it with his actions, but because his dishonesty is and was so horribly hurtful, and he still refuses to set me free.
He looks me over, his cheek ticking as he takes in my dress. I can practically feel his disapproval. If only he could see what I’m wearing under this. Zero white lace or satin happening.
“Why are you here?” There’s a tremor in my voice, but it’s not fear, it’s anger. Anger at this situation. Anger at myself for making such a poor decision for all the wrong reasons. Because I didn’t trust my gut. And now I have to wonder if I’ve misread everything and I’m making another mistake with Lex.
Armstrong gives me a look that makes me feel about two inches tall. Until he speaks. “You won’t take my calls and they won’t let me past the front desk at your work, when else was I going to have an opportunity to see you?”
“You don’t need to see me. At all. Ever. That’s what our lawyers are for. It’s been months of back and forth over this. Just sign the papers and be done with me, Armstrong.”
He blinks several times, his agitation obvious. I doubt it in any way matches mine. “I don’t want to be done with you.”
I throw my hands in the air. “You can’t win me back. Nothing you can say or do is going to change my mind. You will never convince me to get over what you’ve done.”
He seems to consider that for a second, and then his eyes light up a little. “What if you were the only one?”
“For the love of God, Armstrong, that shouldn’t even be a question. It should’ve been only me from the beginning. For the rest of our lives.” I flail angrily. “But that’s not even the point now. I don’t want to be with you. The knowledge that I ever let you touch me, let you inside my body, makes me want to vomit. Do you get that? I can’t even stand your face.”
“Your explanation is sufficient, if not excessively dramatic.” He lifts one placating hand.
I would like to cut it off with a hacksaw and shove it down his stupid, useless throat. I think I should stop watching horror movies with Ruby for a while.
“You can’t hold this grudge forever, it’s unreasonable.”
I wonder if there’s a clinical diagnosis for his kind of messed up. I’ve had about as much of Armstrong as I can handle. I need to get out of here and away from him. “I don’t have anything else to say to you.”
I turn away, toward the door. His next words freeze me.
“I know about Mexico.”
The pit in my stomach opens back up, churning. I slowly turn to face him. “Excuse me?”
His smile is smug. “Mexico. I know about it.”
I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t see my shaking hands. “What exactly do you think you know about Mexico?”
“You have quite the history of bad behavior, don’t you, Amalie?”
“Your definition of bad behavior is rather skewed, don’t you think?”
“I think an arrest record counts. Your father had to work pretty hard to keep that under wraps, didn’t he? It really isn’t very good for business, is it?”
“I don’t have an arrest record.” I was just hanging out with someone who did, which was essentially the issue.
“I wonder how that would go over with your current employer, knowing how closely aligned you’ve been with known felons.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me into staying married to your pathetic, tiny-dicked ass?”
“My dick is more than adequate. Maybe you’ve just been overly free with who you put out for and you’re too worked in.”
I cross the room in three quick strides, hand poised to slap that smug smile off his face, but he’s expecting the attack. He grabs my wrist and steps into me, folding my arm behind my back as he pushes me against the wall. His grip on my arm sends a shot of pain to my shoulder. “You’re hurting me.”
“You were going to hit me, again, I’m defending myself.”
“This is harassment.”
He scoffs and suddenly his expression is dark, that smug smile dropping. “You may want to reconsider your position on this annulment, Amalie. In addition to your history of physical violence, I don’t think it would go over well if people found out about your time in prison.”
I didn’t spend any time in a cell, but the eight hours I spent in an interrogation room inside a Mexican airport surrounded by men who wore sashes made of bullets was enough to scare me straight. It’s also one of the reasons I ended up with Armstrong.
He has the ability to spin this however he wants. Truth doesn’t necessarily trump the excitement of scandal. Regardless of how much he embellishes, this kind of thing would be highly damaging and hard to recover from. It could be on the same level as the events at our wedding, whic
h were easy to hide with his family being in control of so many of the media-related sites. Even if it’s untrue, it could certainly taint my reputation and cost me a lot more than dignity. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
He’s so close. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. I hate that he’s touching me. “Finally, a reasonable question. I want you to be my wife, at least on paper. I can overlook your past and your promiscuity and you can overlook my extracurriculars and we can both be happy.”
“My promiscuity?” I struggle against his hold on my wrist. “Get off me.”
Armstrong releases me and steps back quickly, possibly to avoid my potential wrath. I’m spitting mad, but he has my attention, that’s for sure.
He adjusts his suit jacket, that dark smile still curving the corner of his mouth. “Do you really think I would marry someone I hadn’t done a background check on? I’m pragmatic, Amalie. Your family has money. My family has a well-established business that requires some support. Like I said before, when I came to Bora Bora, I can help elevate your social status and you can assist my family in keeping our empire afloat.”
Mimi said there were things going on with his family, now I have to wonder if this is what she meant. “Did you ever even like me? Does that even matter to you?”
“You’re lovely to look at and you complement me well when you’re behaving. I also quite enjoyed fucking you.” His smile is more of a leer. “I thought with time you’d settle into your role. I assumed you’d managed your vengeful side while you were in Bora Bora, getting played by my cousin. You do realize Lexington is just using you to get back at me.”
“Why would he do that?” This conversation makes it feel like my wine wants to come back up and revisit the world.
Armstrong’s smile is triumphant. “So you are letting my cousin fuck you.”
“That’s not what I said. I asked you why he would use me to get back at you. What would be the purpose of that?”
Armstrong’s expression is one of pompous satisfaction. “Because he doesn’t like it when I take the things he wants.”
“Am I somehow one of those things? Tell me, Armstrong, why did you ask me out in the first place?”
His brow furrows, the shift confusing him. “Don’t try to change the topic.”
“I’m not. It’s a question directly related to this conversation. Why did you introduce yourself and ask me to dance?”
He adjusts his tie. It’s a tell. A sign he’s uncomfortable, or being caught in some kind of lie. He does it a lot. “I told you why. I was saving you from making a mistake, one it appears you’ve decided to make anyway, despite my best efforts. I also thought you were attractive.”
“Right, of course, you were saving me from Lex. Can you explain what you meant when you said Lex doesn’t like it when you take the things he wants?”
“He has an inferiority complex when it comes to me.”
“Is that why you hate each other?” I can’t trust anything that Armstrong says, but I’m still interested in the answer.
“I don’t hate Lexington. I feel sorry for him, because he thinks he can best me, and he can’t.”
“And what is he trying to best you at?”
“You, of course.” He gives me a withering look. “You can stop lying, Amalie. I can smell his cologne all over you. I have to admit, he’s played this very smartly, although Ruby and Bancroft’s engagement party gave him an advantage.”
I have to cross my arms over my chest so I don’t dick punch him again. “This a game to you.”
“Not at all.”
“Are you sure? Because that’s exactly how it sounds. Like I was a game you were playing to win.”
“He walked away from you. That’s not my fault.”
“Are you referring to the night we met? If so I’ll assume this entire thing with me is game to you. Good job on winning, too bad I’m not some medal you can show off.”
He has the audacity to look affronted. “That’s not why I asked you to marry me, though.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No. That was about money. Jesus Christ, Armstrong, this whole thing between us has been about you getting what someone else wanted, or whatever would best benefit your status. Is that the world you live in? Where people’s emotions are just an inconvenient side effect of the games you play with them?”
“I’m not the only one involved here. Have you questioned why Lexington was in your bridal suite on our wedding day?”
It feels like I’ve stepped in quicksand I can’t get free from. I can’t tell truth from lies anymore.
My lack of immediate response spurs him on. “Do you really think it’s a coincidence that his date seduced me and then he ends up alone with you? Come on, Amalie, you’re smarter than that.”
“Seduced? What a crock of shit.” My whole body feels suddenly numb.
“Regardless of your perception, Brittany came on to me, not the other way around.”
“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”
“I’m just explaining. People make mistakes.” It might be easier to hear if he sounded contrite rather than annoyed.
“You admitted to making the same mistake multiple times. With several different people,” I remind him.
“I may have exaggerated out of anger.”
“You are unbelievable.”
He sighs, as if my continued resentment is inconveniencing him. “You can be angry, but this isn’t all on me. I’m trying to get you to see that I’m not the only one culpable here. How the hell did Lex end up in Bora Bora with you on our honeymoon? That’s far too convenient to be coincidental.”
Until all of these cards were laid out for me, I wouldn’t have agreed with Armstrong, but it seems far too impossible with all of tonight’s revelations. I recognize this is Armstrong manipulating me, but I have to wonder where the fabrications begin and where they end. Because even though I don’t want him to be right, this sounds horribly suspect. I don’t want these puzzle pieces to fit together, because it means not only was my relationship with Armstrong a lie, but this thing with Lex could be as well. And it would explain why he’s been so easy about the secrecy, encouraging it even, maybe making a game of it.
“Be honest, Amalie, how long have you been letting him fuck you? Since you left me in New York to go on our honeymoon?”
I can’t listen to Armstrong anymore or I’m going to start believing the lies he spews. If any portion of it is true, I think I may have a breakdown, the kind that might just result in some time in a padded room. I spin around, groping for the door handle.
He grabs for my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Away from you.”
“You can’t run from me forever, Amalie.”
He’s right. I can’t escape this. But listening to him isn’t helping. Not when it makes me feel like I’ve run from one colossal mistake only to make even bigger one.
Twenty-Four: Falling Apart
Lexington
I’ve been stuck talking business with my father and one of his associates for a while now, and I can’t locate Amie anywhere in the ballroom. I saw her leave about fifteen minutes ago and I’ve texted her recently, but the messages go unanswered. Things are not going the way I’d like tonight.
Gwendolyn is here, watching Amie like a vulture that hasn’t been fed in the last six months. I should’ve anticipated her presence. But it’s more than that. Amie’s been off ever since we almost got caught by Bane. I’m afraid of the questions she’s going to ask tonight and I’m worried that in her time alone with Ruby, she’s been given answers that will inevitably lead to more questions. I should’ve been upfront with her about the discord between me and Armstrong and how bad it had been, but I didn’t and I worry it’s going to give her cause to mistrust me.
Tonight has made me hyperaware of how much I don’t want to hide this anymore. I want to be with her and not paranoid that someone’s going to find out before we’re ready
. I don’t want to sneak around like we’re doing something wrong. I want to be at her side and not worry about accidentally touching her in a way I shouldn’t. I don’t care that she’s technically still married. Everyone knows the truth about that sham of a marriage.
It’s only been a handful of months since that debacle of a wedding and I’m concerned that pushing for what I want is going to make her run. What’s more, I fear that’s already happened.
Apart from the tenuous situation with Amie, my mother is a nervous wreck, although she’s masking it with excessive positivity. I’d hoped that Gwendolyn’s presence would help smooth things over and convince Armstrong to just let it go, let Amie go, but that’s not really how he works. I’m sure my appearance in Bora Bora and my parting comment to him is partly responsible for his inability to walk away from her. Goading him is never a good idea and I have difficulty with that.
At a break in the conversation I excuse myself and go in search of Amie. Scanning the ballroom I come up empty, so I head for the foyer. There are very few people out here, most of them tucked away in corners, frantically typing on their phones, or engaged in hushed conversations. In this social sphere it’s not unusual for business transactions to take place at all hours of the day and night, even in the middle of a party.
It’s at that moment that I spot my cousin Armstrong, lurking near the women’s bathroom.
A hateful smile pulls up the corner of his mouth when he sees me heading for him. “Hello, Lexington.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“It’s my cousin’s engagement party, it would be rude not to attend, don’t you think?” He slips one hand into his pocket, that wry grin of his growing wider. “Besides, I thought it would be a good opportunity to see my wife.”
“You need to stay away from Amie.”
“Amie? That’s rather familiar. Didn’t take you long to move in on what’s mine.”
I ignore the comment. “You need to leave.”
The Shacking Up Series Page 56
