Chapter 7
Cece
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting me from the half-sleep I'd finally fallen into after crying myself dry.
I ignored it at first, burrowing deeper into the silk sheets that still smelled faintly of Rafe's cologne despite him sleeping elsewhere.
The second buzz was more insistent, like the device itself knew I was avoiding reality.
I reached for it with heavy limbs, squinting at the bright screen through puffy eyes.
Rafe's name glared back at me, and my stomach twisted in that familiar way it always did—part anger, part something else I refused to name.
Rafe: I fucked up. I told Liam and Tristan the truth.
My heart lurched into my throat. I sat up straight, sleep evaporating instantly as my fingers hovered over the screen.
What did he mean by “the truth”? About Vice and Virtue?
About the blackmail? About how he'd forced me into this sham of a marriage with the emotional equivalent of a gun to my head?
I typed back quickly.
Me: What do you mean the truth?
The three dots appeared immediately. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. I clutched the phone so tightly my knuckles hurt, waiting for the response that would determine whether my life was about to implode entirely or just continue its current controlled demolition.
Instead of a text, the phone rang, Rafe's name flashing across the screen like a warning. I almost didn't answer. Almost.
“What did you tell them?” I asked without preamble, my voice scratchy from sleep and tears.
“Good morning to you too, wife.” His voice was low and tired, lacking the usual edge of arrogance.
“Cut the shit, Rafe. What did you tell them?”
He exhaled slowly. “Liam and Tristan stormed my office this morning. Liam was... not happy.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet meeting the cold hardwood. “What exactly did you say to them?”
“I told them that my parents were trying to force me into an arranged marriage with Samantha Hastings, and that I refused.” His voice tightened. “Liam was furious. Said Everlee was up all night, crying and worried about you.”
The knot in my stomach twisted painfully. Everlee. I hadn't even thought about how she'd react to all this. I was too damn wrapped up in my own disaster to consider that my sister, my pregnant sister, would be sick with worry. Some sister I was.
“And?” I prompted, knowing there had to be more.
“And I told them we had an arrangement. A marriage of convenience to get my parents off my back.” He paused. “I didn't tell them about Santiago. That's still just between us.”
“Gee, thanks.” Each word dripped sarcasm. “So generous of you to keep that one secret while blowing up everything else.”
“I didn't have much choice, Cecelia. They weren't leaving without some kind of explanation.” His voice softened slightly. “Are you still mad at me?”
The question was so ridiculous, so absurdly inadequate for the hurricane of emotions I was feeling, that I simply hung up. Just pressed the red button and tossed the phone onto the bed like it had burned me.
Was I still mad? I was fucking furious. I was devastated. I was trapped. I was married to a man who'd leveraged my worst mistake against me, who'd announced our union like a business merger, who'd turned my life upside down in less than forty-eight hours.
And underneath all that anger was something worse—fear. Fear that Everlee would look at me differently now. Fear that my stalker would somehow find me here. Fear that I'd never dance again, not really, not the way I'd trained my whole life to do.
I showered quickly, avoiding my reflection in the massive mirror that dominated Rafe's bathroom. I couldn't face myself, not yet. Not with the platinum band still glinting on my finger, heavier than its weight had any right to be.
Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in jeans and a sweater and my damp hair pulled into a messy bun. I texted the dance studio to arrange coverage for my classes, then stood in the middle of Rafe's bedroom and made a decision.
I had to see Everlee. Now.
The trip to Nouvelle Femme took longer than it should have, the taxi crawling through midday traffic while my anxiety climbed with each passing block.
My fingers fidgeted with the strap of my purse, twisting the leather until it creased permanently.
What would I say to her? How could I explain any of this when I barely understood it myself?
Sorry I got secretly married in Vegas to a man I've barely tolerated for the past two years. No big deal. Oh, and also I was dancing at a gentleman's club to pay off a debt to a shady businessman, but don't worry about that part.
Yeah, that would go over great.
The lobby receptionist looked up as I approached her desk, her perfect eyebrows rising slightly in recognition. “Miss Sutton.”
I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “I need to see my sister, please.”
She nodded, reaching for the phone. “Mrs. Maxwell is in a meeting, but—”
“It's important,” I cut in, hating the desperation in my voice but unable to mask it.
Something in my expression must have registered, because she nodded and made the call. A moment later, Tamara—Liam’s assistant—appeared to escort me upstairs.
“She's just wrapping up with Boss-man,” Tamara said as we approached Everlee and Liam’s office—Yeah, they shared an office. How cute. “They've been in meetings all morning.”
Great. Liam would be there too. Just what I needed.
Tamara knocked once before opening the door.
Everlee sat behind her desk, Liam standing beside her with one hand resting protectively on her shoulder.
They both looked up as I entered, twin expressions of surprise quickly masked by very different reactions.
Everlee's face softened, concern washing over her features.
Liam's hardened, his blue eyes turning to ice.
“Cece,” Everlee said, rising awkwardly due to her growing belly. “I didn't know you were coming.”
“I should have called,” I said, hovering awkwardly near the door. “I'm sorry.”
Liam squeezed Everlee's shoulder once before straightening to his full, intimidating height. “I'll give you two some privacy.”
He moved toward the door, nodding coolly at me as he passed. “Cece.”
Then the door closed behind him with a decisive click.
“Evie, I—” I started, but the words tangled in my throat.
My sister moved around her desk, her pregnant belly leading the way. At five months, she was showing prominently, the curve of her body protecting the niece or nephew I'd barely had time to think about with all the chaos of my own life.
“You got married,” she said simply, those three words carrying the weight of hurt, confusion, and worry.
“I did.” I swallowed hard, taking a step toward her. “It all happened so fast, and I didn't have time to tell anyone before Rafe just... announced it. I'm so sorry, Evie. I never meant for you to find out that way.”
“I'm not anyone, Cece. I'm your sister.” Her voice cracked slightly. “We tell each other everything. At least, I thought we did.”
The accusation stung, mostly because it was true.
We had always been each other's confidantes, even through the roughest patches of our lives.
Until I moved to New York and started failing at everything I touched.
Then the calls became shorter, the confessions fewer.
I'd been pulling away long before Rafe entered the picture.
“That's not fair,” I said, my defensiveness flaring. “You didn't tell anyone about your arrangement with Liam either. I found out after you were already married.”
It was a low blow, and I knew it. Everlee and Liam's marriage had started as a business arrangement too—her becoming his wife to help him secure his inheritance, him giving her financial stability when our father’s medical bills became too much.
But they'd fallen in love for real, and now they were disgustingly happy and expecting their first child.
Everlee's hand moved to her belly in a protective gesture. “That was different. We were both in crisis, and—”
“And I'm not?” I interrupted, louder than I intended. I immediately lowered my voice. “Evie, my life isn't exactly going according to plan here.”
Her expression softened. She moved to the small sofa in the corner of her office and patted the spot beside her. “Come sit down. Talk to me, Cece. What's really going on? What are you getting out of this arrangement with Rafe?”
I sank onto the couch beside her, feeling every bit as exhausted as I was certain I looked. What was I getting? Freedom from a debt I couldn't pay. A shield against my stalker, maybe. Financial security, at the cost of my independence.
But I couldn't tell her any of that without explaining Vice and Virtue, without confessing how desperate I'd become.
“It's complicated,” I said lamely.
“Try me.” Evie took my hands in hers. “I love you. Unconditionally. No matter what's going on, I'm on your side. But I can't help if you don't let me in. No more secrets between us, okay?”
My throat tightened painfully. For a moment—one breathless, dangerous moment—I considered telling her everything. About the rejection letters piling up, the mounting bills, the loan from Santiago, the dancing, the roses that kept appearing.
But then I imagined the look on her face. The disappointment. The pity. The worry that would keep her up at night, that might harm her or the baby. I couldn't do that to her. Not now, maybe not ever.
“Rafe and I... we make sense together,” I lied, the words tasting sour. “His parents were pushing him into a marriage he didn't want, and I... I needed a fresh start. It's a good arrangement for both of us.”
The lie hung between us, as tangible as the wedding band on my finger. My sister studied my face for a long moment, searching for the truth I was hiding. Then she suddenly pulled me into a fierce hug.