Chapter 14
14
Cat
I choose my outfit with care the next morning. Sun filters in through the giant windows in my bedroom. Theo has honest-to-god trees planted around the mansion, so it barely feels like we’re in the city. I can hear him jogging down the hall, the floorboards creaking under his feet. He uses the gym every morning and jogs through the hall as some sort of warm-up and cooldown, I guess.
I have four summer dresses I sewed, six pairs of jeans, three sweaters I knitted, and two sweatshirts, one of which says “I’d Rather be Reading.” High-society material, that’s me. I survey the clothes laid out on the king-size bed like a general going to war.
I need something sexy and mysterious that shows that I belong in Theo’s world, even if my name will soon be mud. Maybe simple is better. The ring glints at me from my bedside table, mocking the plainness of the clothes I chose to take in my haste to escape Rockwood.
All black and a giant diamond it is. I sigh and pull on black jeans and black boots before slipping the cool weight of the ring around my finger. I wear it as little as possible, and my hand still hasn’t gotten used to it.
I send Blair and Lane a selfie with the stupid ring pressed to my chest.
Cat
Do I look rich enough? Do you think a sweatshirt is okay with this?
Lane immediately responds
Lane
Definitely rich. Keep that silk tank top on.
I look down at my pajama top. It’s black silk with cream lace on the straps. Theo was eyeing it yesterday like it personally offended him. If I can’t look put together, at least I can irritate him, I guess.
Blair
Don’t be nervous.
I choke a laugh. Blair knows a text like that is enough to make my palms sweat.
Lane
Why would you be nervous?
I press a hand to my throat, already feeling hot and shaky at the thought of all the eyes that will be on us today.
Cat
Theo wants to see and be seen. We’re going somewhere popular for brunch.
This is my worst nightmare. In my early twenties, I attended events like this with my stepmother, where I was expected to look pretty, be polite, and never have a thought in my head that could challenge a man. And while every other girl stayed out after the fancy dinners to sneak liquor and smoke cigarettes and talk to boys, I was hustled home by our driver as soon as the after-dinner drinks were served.
Boring Cat Peterson.
That should have been my first sign to leave Rockwood. I should have known at twenty that things would get worse, not better.
Lane
You got this. Lean on Theo if you need to.
Fat chance of that. I snort as I slip my phone into my pocket. I leaned on Theo once before, and look how that turned out.
“Cat,” he calls from the hallway . Speak of the very unwelcome devil.
I wrench open the door. “Didn’t anyone teach you about inside voices?”
He pokes his head out of his bedroom. We share a wall, and I try not to think about it. “My house. My rules.” He gives me a cocky grin and disappears back into his bedroom.
I clench my teeth and step into the hallway. Do not murder your husband. You need him.
“I’m almost ready,” he shouts from the depths of his bedroom. The door is partially closed, and I refuse to open it and follow him inside. That way lies danger. It will smell like Theo, and his bed will be unmade, and then I’ll think about him naked in it. Nope.
I cross my arms and stare at the thick oak door.
“Hurry up,” I shout back, just to annoy him.
“Eager, princess?” His voice comes from right behind the door. Right. Theo is impossible to annoy.
“We’re going to be late.”
“No. We’re not. Daniel will pick us up on the street-side exit. Not the avenue side. Saves ten minutes.” He jerks the door open. His shirt is unbuttoned, and I get a glimpse of the trail of dark hair that leads into his pants and the edge of the tattoo that covers the firm muscle of his chest.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to brunch.”
My gaze jerks back to his face, and I redden. He’s smiling that wicked smile at me as he does up the buttons on his collar. The gold band on his finger glimmers in the soft lighting.
“I’m not the one who wants to go to brunch,” I say with admirable calm.
“You promised,” he says with an arch of his brow. “I gave you a dance. You give me brunch.”
The dance. I’ve been trying not to think about the dance. But as we take the stairs to the ground floor, all I can think about is the dance. The clench to Theo’s jaw when he found me in the club, the way his hands gripped my waist like he was barely restraining himself. The feel of his warm skin and the ridges of muscle under my tongue.
I’m distracted and too warm under my coat as Daniel drives us downtown.
“This place?” I hiss at Theo as the car pulls up to a SoHo brunch spot where the clientele is the draw—rich, young, and beautiful.
“You’ve been here?” he asks.
“Well, no, but I’ve heard stories.”
“Not a brunch person?” He’s lounging in the back of the car, legs spread, flipping his phone idly in one large hand.
“I didn’t get out much when I had the money for brunch,” I say with a shrug. Mostly truth. Daniel opens the door, and we emerge onto the wintry sidewalk. It’s cold, gray, and drizzling. If it weren’t for this plan of Theo’s, I’d be at home in my new favorite living room with a good book. Gotta live a little sometime, Cat. Even if I’d rather stay home and read than face prying eyes.
“Theo, I should have mentioned, people might…talk. When we go inside.”
He gives me a bemused look. “Of course they’ll be talking. The bellinis here are famous. Nothing like a little alcohol to get tongues wagging. I hope you didn’t think this was going to be a silent brunch.” His brow creases. “Is that a thing? Silent brunch?”
“No, I mean, they’ll talk about me.”
Theo pauses in front of the door. “How do you know? ”
“Because everyone does. You’ve been gone. You don’t understand.” I take a shaky breath and keep my eyes on Theo’s sharp jaw. “It happens every time I go to class. I wasn’t exactly well-liked in my old social circle, and I wasn’t—I don’t have your way with people. There have already been comments about our relationship.”
His jaw is flexing now, a little muscle feathering at the edge, where the hard line of it becomes the crease of his neck.
“No one will say anything.”
My eyes cut to his. Bright, furious green.
Only I’m not sure why he’s angry, since he’s one of the people who is pleased to see me brought low.
“You’re my wife now. And my reputation, well, it might be more tarnished than not, but I’m well-liked. And I have a lot of fucking money.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Quite a pair we make,” I say.
His eyes are back to being teasing. “Yes, a disinherited Juliet and a dissolute Romeo. The match of the century. Let’s show them, okay?”
I inhale a shaky breath before I nod. “Okay.”
The restaurant is the exact type of place I imagine people like Theo enjoy. A place people in my social circle go. The blond wood, pink velvet chairs, and glass lights gleam with wealth and satisfaction—pretty and totally self-indulgent. I guess that’s what brunch is for them—a circus, meant for them to see and be seen. And the people here are certainly taking advantage of that. I precede Theo to the table, and whispers ripple in my wake. I can practically feel Theo’s breath on my neck. He’s a looming presence as we approach our corner table and he directs me to sit facing the room. And instead of sitting across from me, he takes the seat at my side.
“People are staring,” I mutter. There’s a brunette near us who keeps sneaking glances, and is that a photo? Ugh. I guess photos are what Theo wants.
“That’s the point,” he says before ordering two coffees, mine with just milk and his black with lots of sugar.
“You noticed how I take my coffee? ”
His gaze meets mine. “It’s how you’ve always taken it.”
Oh. The breath leaves my chest, and in its place is longing. But not for something I’ve never had—for something I had and lost. Theo and I used to drink coffee together. How could I have forgotten? When it was cold and we had nowhere else to go, we’d escape to a local coffee shop. Theo always wanted to drink underage, but I was too scared to get in trouble, so coffee it was.
“I forgot,” I murmur.
“I didn’t,” he says. “Besides.” His mouth lifts in that cocky smirk. “I didn’t get rich by not being observant.”
I snort a laugh and slap my hand over my mouth. “And so modest too.”
“Nah. Modesty is overrated.” His impossibly green eyes glint.
“You should have that embroidered and hung above your bed.”
“Then where would I hang the mirror?” He grins at me. “Maybe I’ll have it tattooed on my ass.”
Another laugh bursts out of me. “You wouldn’t.”
“I so would.” He’s grinning too, and it feels like a whole herd of animals is galloping inside me. Danger, Cat. I’ve been down this path with Theo before, and it ended with a broken heart.
I drop my eyes to my menu. “What’s good here?”
“Oh, none of it,” he says cheerfully. “The food is terrible. Well, the dessert is quite good, actually. Yes, keep smiling like that. A well-known gossip blogger is looking over at us. No, don’t look.” He scoots closer until I feel him like a small sun next to me. He pulls a lock of my hair between his fingers, and I nearly flinch. “Pretend I’m telling you something really dirty,” he murmurs low in my ear.
“Pretend? I don’t need to pretend. I live in a den of debauchery. I’m waiting for the day I find a woman’s underwear hanging on one of the chandeliers.”
He laughs softly, hot breath blowing over my neck. Goose bumps follow. Biology. It’s just biology. I do not want my husband. “The ceilings are quite high. I don’t see how that would work logistically. I suppose if I were very vigorous— ”
“Stop,” I say, but I’m smiling. “I don’t need to hear about your athletic prowess.”
“I’m very athletic, it’s true. Ah, dessert.” He reaches around to point at the left-hand column of the menu. “I recommend the tarte tatin. They source fantastic apples. And the pastry chef is French.”
I make a considering sound, but all thought has fled. All I can think about is the heat of Theo’s body and the weight of his arm around my shoulders, the feeling that I’m his. His? No way. I stiffen. I don’t want to belong to anyone. I spent my entire life belonging to my family, like a doll on a shelf. No more.
He finally pulls away to order our food and a tarte tatin to share, and I’m grateful for him taking charge, because the eyes of so many people on me are making it hard to breathe.
“Angle your hand a little more so they can see the ring,” he says.
I comply, and I swear I hear a woman suck in a breath. “You’re way too good at this.” I look up to see his eyes hard and his handsome face blank.
“My main skill, really. It’s quite useful for courting investors. Unless they try to sleep with me.” He shrugs, like he doesn’t care, but cold seeps through me.
“Women make passes at you on business trips?”
“Of course they do.” He stirs more sugar into his coffee. “I’m hot, and I can’t really say no, right? Not if we want to grow our business. Oh, come on. It’s not like that. We go out drinking, and one thing leads to another. Can you blame them?”
No, not really, I guess. If I were rich and confident, I’d make a pass at Theo too. But feeling like you have to? Fuck that. Anger burns holes in my stomach. Fuck these investors and the way they’ve used him and discarded him.
“Do you like the ring?” he asks abruptly.
“As much as any ring. It’s archaic, don’t you think? A sign of ownership.”
“I suppose.” He sips his coffee. “You hate it.” He smiles.
“Darling, you’re not supposed to smile when you do something I hate. ”
His smile grows.
“I totally hate it,” I say.
He laughs, setting his coffee down as his shoulders shake. Why does he have to be so stupidly, annoyingly attractive when he laughs? I narrow my eyes on him. Damn you, Theo and your perfect shiny teeth and your just-fucked, tousled hair, and the way your Adam’s apple bobs in your throat.
“Do you know what I had to go through to get that ring on such short notice?”
“I imagine you walked up to the jewelers at Cartier and said ‘the biggest one, please. No, bigger. Do you have something really ostentatious?’”
He shakes his head. “I had to call the owner of Cartier to open the store for me. They were closed for renovations.”
“It’s good to be you,” I say blandly. “Even if this ring is fucking ugly and I want to throw it at your head most of the time.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you say the nicest things.” He grins at me, totally unrepentant, and my silly, traitorous heart does a little flip-flop in my chest.
“Do you think our charade is working?” I whisper once we’ve finished our entirely mediocre plates of eggs and dessert is in front of us.
Theo shrugs. “The real test will be next weekend. That charity gala. Sitting at a brunch table is one thing, but talking to investors and their partners will be tough. We should prep.” He swipes some of the caramel off the top of the tart and into his mouth. His lips close around his finger, and my stomach does a funny little pirouette. His lips are a little too full, especially his bottom lip, soft in an otherwise harshly male face.
“Talk about the investors, you mean? Learn their backgrounds?”
“And learn about each other.”
The pirouette turns into a full-blown knot in my gut. “I think we know each other well enough,” I say airily. “We can make up anything we don’t know. We’ll be fine. You’re a good actor, clearly, and I’ll just go along with it. I can make small talk. ”
“Catherine.” He levels a look at me with those green eyes. “I’m a different person now than I was at twenty. I’m not going to mess this up. Think about if people found out this was a marriage of convenience.” He takes a neat scoop of the tart onto his spoon. “I’d be ruined in the eyes of my investors. More than I usually am. A libertine is borderline, but a liar? Unacceptable. And you might find your inheritance being challenged.”
The thought sends chills through me. Theo is right. I know he’s right, and yet the thought of sharing with him, letting him in again…I stand in a rush.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I mutter before striding away from the table and keeping my head down as I pass clusters of people I probably know.
In the bathroom, I lean against the counter and press cold water to the skin of my chest where it’s red and blotchy from nerves. Sharing with Theo. I can’t. My hands clench around the edge of the counter. My past is shameful. I’ve had everything and made nothing of myself. I could have been like Blair, like Theo. I could have left sooner. I could have been braver. But I liked being rich and pampered, and I was too damn comfortable to leave the nest.
When I’m feeling more settled, I push open the door and head back into the dining room. The din grows with every step, like a march to the gallows.
“Cat Peterson?” I hear, when I’m nearly back at our table. I recognize that voice. Strident and too-loud, even over the noise of conversation. I turn to a table with three men and two women, but my gaze snags on the pretty brunette at the center. Lauren Hall. I always liked her voice, but she always hated it. She wanted to sound smooth and cultured, but she could never erase her Long Island roots. We were friends once, tentative friends, in the way of people who know they’re both on the outside and think an alliance might benefit them. At least until something better comes along.
For Lauren, something did. She’s married now, to a man who is Arnold Worth the Fourth’s best friend.
“What are you doing here?” she says when I don’t respond .
“Having brunch.” My heart is racing, and I press a hand to my stomach. Lauren’s gaze snags on the diamond, and an ugly look crosses her face. Lauren always liked me because I was less popular than her. Now, four of her ring could fit inside mine. A stupid assessment, but one I know Lauren is making as her eyes flick over my hand.
“With Theo Archer?” She gives her friend next to her an amused glance. “I heard about your little marriage.” She taps her phone.
“I really should be getting back to my husband.” My tongue feels thick as I say the unfamiliar phrase.
“Your husband.” She smiles sharply. “Surprised you’re willing to leave the house after the news about your theft became public.”
“Theft?” I should play it cool. I shouldn’t ask, but fuck.
“Arnold posted about it this morning.” She cocks her head. “Do you live under a rock?”
I’m paralyzed, my heart pounding, until a heavy arm slides around my waist and warm lips caress the top of my hair. “There you are, baby. I was looking for you.” I’m frozen for a moment, before I relax into his side.
Theo. Thank god. I’ve never been so grateful in my life.
Lauren and her friend sit up straighter at his presence. Of course. Theo might have come from nothing, but now he’s rich as fuck and handsome as the devil.
He gives Lauren a blank look. “Have we met?”
Lauren recovers quickly. “Once.” She titters a laugh. “But I’ve heard so much about you since then. Is this where you and Cat always go for brunch?”
“Sometimes. When there’s nothing better available.” He lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug.
Lauren gives me a poisonous look, like she knows we’re lying. “What’s Theo’s favorite thing on the menu?”
I freeze. She knows. Arnold told her about the will, which means he told all his friends, and it’s only a matter of time before my father publicly challenges our marriage and the will. He’ll challenge the will and take the shares .
“Dessert,” Theo says smoothly, grabbing my hand. “Nice to see you again,” he says curtly before he drags me back to our table. “What was that?” He stabs his spoon into the tart.
“She and her friends know about the will. And the marriage. They’re friends with my family.” I pull out my phone and open social media. I shouldn’t do this. I’ve avoided looking since I saw the awful comments yesterday.
Arnold’s page is filled with selfies and pictures of expensive cars. He’s tagged me in one item. A story he shared from a gossip site. It’s a photo of me leaving a party several years ago, and the accompanying article features a quote. “Disinherited Peterson heiress accused by her father of stealing jewels upon fleeing her family home.” Theo goes still as I read the words. “My father’s business partner’s son provided a quote,” I say faintly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this marriage is a sham. Theo Archer isn’t the marrying kind. And Cat Peterson isn’t either.”
“Fuck,” Theo mutters.
The room is too small. “Let’s go,” I say.
“Hell no,” he says. “We aren’t going anywhere. In fact, we’re going to eat every damn bite of this dessert and act like we never saw the post. You didn’t steal any damn jewels.”
“It’s my father,” I say. “He doesn’t want to lose the company. He’ll do anything to discredit me.”
Theo angrily eats another bite of apple tart.
“Theo.”
“Darling,” he says in a dangerously low voice. “This marriage can’t be called into question. I won’t allow it.” His tone sends shivers down my spine. Theo looks like he would kill Arnold Worth and hide the body.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.” His smile turns feral. “Now open up, princess, and try to look delighted while I feed you.”
“You are entirely too obsessed with dessert,” I mutter as he leans in.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He winks at me. “All the best things are forbidden.” He brushes a thumb over my lip like he did the other night. “Open.” His voice is low and meant for my ears only, and my mouth parts against my will. He spoons the tart in. I can’t help the little sigh of pleasure that comes from me at the taste of rich burnt sugar.
“See what I mean?”
I do see. All the best things are forbidden. Especially Theo. Fuck.