Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
O ne bed. There’s only one bed?
I glanced over my shoulder at Graham. The look of panic in his eyes mirrored my own.
“Is something wrong?” Kendall asked. “I mean…besides the obvious fact that we’re stranded out here until someone can tow us in.” She dropped her head in resignation. “I cannot believe the propeller is stuck.”
Me either. But none of this was her fault, so I rushed to reassure her. “We’re fine. And this is lovely.” I elbowed Graham. Apart from the kiss on deck earlier, it was almost as if he just expected me to take the lead in every interaction with his family.
He grunted, then said, “Yes. Thank you.”
Kendall left us to settle in. The door to the cabin shut with an audible click, and the space felt too small for the two of us. This was so not happening. We were not going to be trapped in a cabin on a boat with only one bed.
Graham walked toward the walls, feeling along them, searching for something. Meanwhile, I felt as if they were closing in on me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, unable to keep the bite from my tone. My anger needed an outlet. Otherwise, I might explode.
“Sometimes the rooms on a yacht have Pullman berths. They fold out from the wall like a Murphy bed.”
I glanced around, looking for signs of a cavity in the wall. Something, anything, that might fold out and turn into another bed. But there was nothing. A small closet with hangers, and a door that led to a beautiful en suite bathroom.
“This is never going to work.” I flopped down onto the mattress with a huff. There was a chair. A bed. And the floor.
But even more than our current predicament, I was referring to our relationship. To the way Graham continued to hold me at a distance both in private and in public. We were supposed to be married, for crying out loud. And he’d kept a huge fucking secret about something that affected me personally.
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Great.” I tossed him a pillow, not even bothering to argue. He’d offered; I was more than happy to take him up on it. Perhaps I was being childish, but I was angry. I didn’t want to share the same room, let alone the same bed.
“Fantastic.” He took it and dropped it on the carpet.
I grabbed a blanket and tossed it to him as well. “Here.”
He grunted and added it to his pile. “If you have something to say, say it.”
“I can’t believe you hacked my blog. Why would you do that?”
“I needed to know who was behind it.”
Seriously?
“Yes, seriously,” he said, making me realize I’d voiced the question aloud. He just had to control everything, know everything, didn’t he?
That answer wasn’t good enough.
“Did you do anything…malicious?”
I hadn’t noticed anything. But why would I? I hadn’t realized someone had been able to hack my site, period. It made me feel exposed. I wanted to increase my cybersecurity.
“As I said, I was merely looking for information.”
I searched for a robe, yanking it off the hook in the bathroom. “And did you find what you were looking for?”
He unbuttoned his shirt, smoothing it out before hanging it in the small closet that was hidden in a recess in the wall. “I found you, didn’t I?”
How could he be so calm? I felt as if I was going to explode. And the fact that he was so, so unruffled was only adding to my irritation.
“Wait…” I stilled, putting the pieces together. “You knew in Ixtapa that I was Gilded Lily. Did you invite me there? Was it some sort of trap?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “No. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“You could’ve sent me an email. Called me on the phone. Texted.” Any number of things, really.
“Would you have responded?” he asked.
“You never gave me the chance,” I said, not sure how to answer. But this wasn’t about me; this was about him. And I wasn’t going to let him turn the conversation around on me. “Is this something you do often? Hack into websites?”
He was quiet for so long, I figured he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said, “When necessary.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Define necessary.” Because I wasn’t sure that discovering the identity of the blogger behind Gilded Lily was necessary, strictly speaking.
“To protect the people I love.”
“Mm.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And you felt that you needed to violate my privacy to protect the people you love .” It seemed like a flimsy excuse to me. “Did you really feel that threatened by a few blog posts?”
“I don’t think you realize the power you have as Gilded Lily.”
Wow. Okay. Either I had more reach than I realized, or he was more paranoid than I’d ever considered.
“I would never abuse that power. I posted fair and honest reviews. I didn’t lie. I didn’t say anything malicious or untrue.”
“I know.” His expression was unreadable.
“Then why even do it?”
I stared at him, willing him to explain himself. For a man who valued privacy and discretion, he seemed to have very little regard for mine.
He said nothing. Finally, when I couldn’t take it any longer, I threw my hands in the air and turned away. “You had no right to do that. None.” I was beyond annoyed with his interference in my life and my business.
“I—” I heard the rustle of his slacks as he stepped closer. He placed his hand on my arm, gently turning me. “It was wrong.” His gaze was locked on mine, the green the color of the wind-whipped ocean before a storm. Dark. Foreboding. “I’m sorry.”
“But you’d still do it again. You don’t regret it.” He didn’t even seem all that remorseful.
“I regret upsetting you.”
“No,” I gritted out. “You regret that you got caught.”
He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. I took that as his assent.
He’d claimed that he’d wanted to discover my identity, but his actions seemed extreme, even for him. Or maybe— I sighed. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.
I’d always admired Graham’s loyalty and ethics. But in the span of a week, I’d learned that he was willing to commit fraud with a fake marriage scam and hack into someone’s website and god only knew what else.
Yes, I’d told him I’d be willing to exist in the gray with him. But he’d crossed the line.
It made me wonder what other lines he was willing to cross. Did he just think he was above the law? That he had so much money, the rules didn’t apply?
I’d never gotten that impression from him. But tonight, I was seeing a whole different side to Graham, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
A darker thought occurred to me. If he ever got caught for trying to scam the board, what were the chances he’d take me down with him? The prospect had me feeling light-headed, and his grip on me tightened.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“What was done was done. Telling you wasn’t going to help anything.”
So, basically never. He’d never intended to tell me.
I backed away from Graham, forcing him to release me. Was he even listening to himself? Did he really not see how wrong that was?
“You are unbelievable,” I seethed. “You talk about Moretti as if he’s the bad guy, but you’re no better.”
His eyes flashed with anger. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Are you scared to ruin everyone’s image of us as the perfect couple?” I lifted my chin, unwilling to back down. “Newlyweds who are madly in love? Because news flash…I don’t think anyone’s buying it.”
I’d done my best all afternoon and evening, but it had been stressful. Not because of anything anyone had said, but everything they hadn’t. Despite their initial shock, they’d all been so nice, so welcoming. Sloan had even taken me aside to apologize for her outburst. Graham’s family’s kindness only made me feel worse about the whole thing.
“What are you talking about?” he snapped.
“We’re supposed to be partners, and you allowed me to be blindsided in front of your family. You mentioned that my blog would be an issue, but you let me think that was because of the reviews I’d posted. Not because you’d hacked my site and it would mess with the timing of our ‘story.’”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “We’re supposed to be a team, but if this is going to work, we have to be able to trust each other.”
“I do trust you.” His green eyes swirled with emotions, imploring me to listen.
“No. You don’t.” I shook my head. “If you did, you would’ve come clean about the hacking and trusted that I’d still have your back.”
“And would you have?”
“Do I like being lied to? Absolutely not. But if you’d come to me with the truth earlier? If I’d found out from you—instead of from your family—like I did with the provision in your grandfather’s will, I wouldn’t have been nearly as upset.”
He was quiet. Why wouldn’t he say something?
“Do you even realize how humiliating that was?” I paused, trying to gauge his reaction. His calmness grated on me. It was probably a front—at least, that’s what I was telling myself—but still. I was livid, and he was just standing there, taking it.
“I would’ve answered any questions you had,” I continued. “Provided any information you wanted. All you had to do was ask.” I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. I was a runaway train of emotions, and it was full steam ahead. “Or maybe you were afraid to ask because you’re afraid to let people in. To let them see you.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. God, his silence was so infuriating!
And still, he said nothing.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I felt like I was in a fishbowl all evening. Like they were watching our every move, every interaction, waiting to call us out on the lie.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“Yeah, well, you would know.” I glared at him.
He furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sank down onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Why had I ever thought this was a good idea?
I twirled my wedding ring on my finger. Barely a week into this marriage, and everything already felt as if it were crumbling faster than the walls of my ancient chateau.
“What are we doing?” I asked, feeling as if I’d been hit over the head with an anvil. My head spun. I could go to jail for this fake marriage. And for what? Money?
My shoulders sagged. This wasn’t me.
“We’re working together to achieve our goals,” he said.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” I muttered, feeling dejected and scared and angry and so many other emotions I couldn’t even name.
He’d lied to me. And not about something small.
“This feels like a mistake.”
“Because of one evening?” he asked, incredulous.
Because of everything.
But I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t tell him that I felt like I was using him, and he was lying to me. And at this rate, we were going to fail. He’d forfeit his company, and I’d lose the chateau.
We were supposed to be partners. Sure, we’d each agreed to this for our own reasons, but we were only going to succeed by working together. Not by keeping secrets from each other. I was hurt. And angry—at him and myself.
“I was out there busting my butt to sell our relationship to your family.” And he was calling me his little fish. “You can’t possibly think that throwing around a term of endearment” — and a shitty one at that — “and one kiss would be enough to convince them, right?”
“Jesus, Lil.” He threw his hands in the air. “What more do you want from me?” He lifted his chin, and I wanted to punch the imperious expression off his gorgeous face. “I had my stylist work with you to give you a whole new wardrobe. Moved you in to my penthouse. I gave you twenty million dollars for the chateau.”
Wow. I was reeling from his statement. Wow. Wow. Wow.
Yes, he had done all those things, but I wasn’t impressed by them. By money. It made me feel like a hypocrite to admit that when I’d accepted twenty million dollars from him for the restoration of the chateau, but it was true.
“I’m not even going to dive into everything wrong with that statement. But what do I want from you? I want you to respect my privacy. I want this to be the partnership I signed up for. I want you to promise you’re not going to lie to me again.”
“I won’t. Lie, that is.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, assessing him. “And my privacy? Are you going to respect it?”
He hesitated, tugging on his collar. “Yes.”
I sighed. What good was Graham’s word when he’d already broken it once before? “I’m not sure I can trust you.”
“Then think about the chateau. Remember what’s at stake.”
“No. That’s not good enough.” As much as I loved the chateau, I said, “Nothing is worth more than my self-respect. And you promised—” I fought the urge to rage, to stomp my feet, to do…something. “You swore that we would be partners. You even said so in your wedding vows.”
He dropped his head to his chest. Then he took a breath, straightened, and stepped closer. “I’m sorry.” My expression must have betrayed my skepticism because he took my hands in his. “I am.”
“I’ve always believed you were a man of your word. Honorable. Ethical. But in light of recent events, I’m questioning everything I thought I knew about you.”
“Come on, Lil.” He gave my hands a squeeze. “You know me. You do.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if you actually let anyone see the real you. You keep secrets from your family, hold them at a distance.”
“It’s for their?—”
“Own good. Right.” I swallowed. “I can see that you believe that, but that’s not your decision to make. Only Sloan can decide what’s best for her. Only Nate can decide what’s best for him. Only I can decide what’s best for me.”
Perhaps sensing I was on the edge, he asked, “And what is best for you?” I heard the hesitancy in his tone.
I inhaled slowly. It was so tempting to walk away. But then what would’ve been the point of it all? I wanted to save the chateau, and I truly believed Graham wanted to save the Huxley brand.
Before I could answer, he asked, “Do you realize how many people are relying on me?”
“Over 150,000.”
“One hundred and seventy-five thousand people. One hundred and seventy-five thousand .”
“That’s a huge responsibility. I can only imagine the burden you feel, and I know you take their welfare seriously.”
“It is. And then there’s my family. We’ve been through a lot. All we have is one another. And I’m the one they look to when they have a problem or need reassurance.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because I’m the strong, steady one. And they know I will do anything in my power to fix it.” I didn’t think that was the entire reason, but I didn’t tell him that. This wasn’t about what I’d observed; it was about what Graham believed.
“And who gives you strength? Who fixes your problems?”
He lifted a shoulder, trying to brush it off as if it didn’t matter. But there was a sadness in his eyes, an air of loneliness that clung to him like a lion watching over his pride. Protective but alone.
And in that moment, I felt sorry for him. I was still angry, but I could also feel empathy.
I softened, but my anger still simmered beneath the surface. “How can you expect them to when you don’t share anything with them? A relationship is a two-way street. You can’t expect others to be open and vulnerable if you’re closed off and secretive.”
“I’m—” He dropped his head to his chest. “It’s not like I want to be this way. I think—” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I think I just needed this to work so badly that I was scared to fuck it up. And ironically, I still ended up fucking things up.”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him more vulnerable. And while I knew he was sincere, I also worried it was another attempt to manipulate me.
I felt my shoulders relax. Maybe this whole situation wasn’t as hopeless as I’d feared.
“Then do something about it.”
“Like what?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“Confide in your family. In me. Or, at the very least, stop avoiding me.” When he opened his mouth to protest, I held up my hand. “You asked for my help. And if you want everyone to believe I’m your wife, you’re going to have to start acting like a husband.”
“I am .” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I take care of you, provide for you.”
Did he truly not understand? He’d been in relationships in the past. Surely he understood how this worked. What it meant to be a couple.
“Graham.” I leveled him with a look. “Do you think that’s why Sloan and Jackson are together? Or Emerson and Nate?” When he remained silent, I nearly shouted, “No! They’re in a relationship because they love each other. Have you ever watched them together?”
He furrowed his brow.
“Oh, come on. I’m sure you have. You’re one of the most observant people I know. So, tell me what you notice.”
“They smile at each other a lot,” he said.
“Yes. Good.” God, this was painful. Like pulling teeth. “What else?”
“They call each other ‘babe’ and ‘baby’ and ‘ mi Cielo.’”
“And the name Jackson calls Sloan. Hay…”
“ Hayati. ”
“Yes.” I snapped my fingers. “What does that mean?”
“‘My life’ in Arabic.”
Swoon.
He gave me a pensive look but then asked, “What else?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, not ready to move on just yet. Not ready to concede the point. Perhaps I was being harsh, but if this was going to work, Graham needed to get on the same page with me. He needed to realize we were a team. And he needed to stop holding back.
“I get that you’re not big on PDA or showing emotion, but you can try to act like you care about me. Like you’re attracted to me. Otherwise, everyone is going to think it’s strange that you’re more affectionate with your dogs than your wife. Unless you really are the cold, heartless billionaire everyone claims you are.”
He clenched his fists, and I sensed that I’d touched a nerve. Good! Maybe it would finally spur him into action.
“Is that what you think this is about?” His nostrils flared. “You think—what? That I’m not attracted to you?” He stalked closer, and I held my ground. “That I don’t care about you?” I could feel the anger radiating off him in waves.
“I don’t know!” I threw my hands in the air, fed up with this conversation. With him. I needed space. “It’s not like you ever give any indication of what you’re thinking. I thought I knew you, could read you, but you keep shutting me out.”
By the time I was done speaking, my heart was pounding. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I could feel the tension building like a storm ready to unleash.
He stepped closer, and I took a few steps back. The air was charged—one spark and it would combust. His eyes were dark, hooded. I licked my lips, feeling hot. Too hot.
But he didn’t stop. He kept pursuing me until my back collided with the wall. I let out a little squeak, feeling a bit like a mouse trapped by a cat. He was toying with me. Hunting me.
“Should I touch you?” He grabbed my hips roughly, and my breath caught, lips parting. I…liked it. Liked the harshness of his grip and the intensity of his gaze.
He gave my hips a squeeze, and I nearly moaned in appreciation. I wanted to push him away. I needed him even closer. I was angry. I was turned on. I wished my heart would stop beating so hard so I could think straight.
“Should I kiss you?” He leaned in, his breath fanning across my hair. He smelled of mint and whiskey, and for a split second, I forgot why I was mad. “Is that what you want?”
He dragged his nose along the shell of my ear. My knees weakened, my entire body aching for his touch, angling toward him like a flower seeking the sun.
“Would that make me seem like more of a real husband?” he taunted. “Would that make you happy?”