33
Nolan
A ire was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, watching Magnus prepare meals. She was speaking to him in soft tones that were borderline seductive. She had her painting overalls on and looked relaxed and happy. The smile on her face would have warmed my heart a day ago. But now... My eyes narrowed. The scales had fallen off, and I was seeing the real her for the first time. Of course, that was not Aelin. Even though I had never met her in person before, she was not the type of person to be a homebody like Aire was. She would never have spent most of her time indoors or at the foundation like a good little housewife. She also did not have an artistic background, unlike her cousin.
"Afternoon Magnus," I said. They both turned their gazes at me, startled. Aire's smile widened and Magnus looked shocked at first, but calmed when he seemed to realize it was me.
Aire pushed her back off the counter and strolled to me, arms open. "Back so soon?" I stepped aside, avoiding her hug.
"Magnus, can you leave us, please? I will pay you the full amount for today." Magnus glanced between me and Aire, said nothing, and began putting his things away. I stood still, silent until Aire frowned and asked, "What's going on?" I waited for Magnus to leave. Only then did I say, "You and I need to talk."
"Nolan—"
"Who the fuck are you?"
Blood drained from her face.
"I will only ask once."
Her mouth trembled. She looked so vulnerable. Like a child caught stealing candy. If only her crimes were so miniscule.
"Aire Taylor. Aelin Burgess's cousin."
The confession came so easy but it was hard for me to take in. This woman had lied to me repeatedly. Made me believe she was someone else and was now acting hurt, like she was the victim. Her shoulders drooped, and she sank onto the stool next to her.
"My mother is Kenneth Burgess's daughter and so is Aelin's mother." She took a deep breath. "We've always been mistaken as the same person, even when we were children. When my father died, I was in college. I found out that he had nothing for me and my mother was cut off from the family. I had no money. I wanted to finish my degree, so I went to my grandfather for help. I found out my mother had asked him to pay my tuition and when she died, he would only pay for my schooling as long as I promised to pay him back. So when grandfather asked me to act as Aelin and wipe away my debt, I did it."
I scoffed.
"You..." Her voice was so low I barely heard her. "You have to understand, the picture he painted of you was that of the devil incarnate. He thought you wanted to destroy the business and sell it for parts. The marriage deal was the guarantee that you wouldn't do that, and in return for helping him save his company, I would be debt free."
Her sob story was convincing enough, but if she thought it would make me forgive her for her role in this twisted deception, she was deluding herself. I can't believe I thought I was beginning to share something with her. Something more than just sex. My stupid heart wanted to believe that she wasn't what the tabloids had painted her to be. But it was worse. She was someone else.
"H-how d-did you find out?" she asked.
"A thorough background check that I should have done before I married you."
She nodded as though it was the answer she expected. "D-does my grandfather know?"
"Why would I tell him? But feel free to divulge what happened here. I won't hold it against you."
"You weren't supposed to find out. I was told this marriage was supposed to be temporary. Marry you for a couple of years, that's it. I only did it because Aelin couldn't be found and I was told the deal would fall through if I didn't."
"So I guess you don't matter anymore because your grandfather is purposefully tanking the deal."
Her brows shot up. "What!"
"He doesn't want to sign the papers anymore. So I wanna know. Why is he doing it?"
Her tear glistening eyes grew twice as large. "I promise you, I don't know what he's thinking. I barely talk to him. I barely saw him before all this went down."
"And Aelin, or should I say my bride? Where is she now?"
"I don't know. She was missing for a while and then I later found out that she was in rehab. She came to the fundraiser last weekend."
I raised my eyebrows, not sure what to do with the information .
Aire hastily added. "She wanted money so she could keep her mouth shut and not tell you about the whole thing. But I guess that's moot now."
"You think?"
She got off from her chair and closed the distance between us. "I'm sorry," her hands clamped around my arm. I should feel repulsed, and yet blood rushed down my body as thoughts of the last time we touched entered my mind. Disgusted, I whipped my hand away. She flinched and stepped back. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "What are you going to do next?"
I hadn't even thought that far. The betrayal hurt me to think of anything else but to confront her. "Divorce is not an option. Your grandfather is up to something, and keeping you with me is the best insurance against whatever he's planning."
I left the room, no longer wanting to look at her any longer. Her vulnerability was tugging at my heartstrings, making me feel for her. Making me want to draw her in my arms and tell her everything is alright. As though she was the victim in this situation and not the other way round.
The living room bar was on the way to the home office. I passed by it and poured myself a glass full of brandy and then shut myself in my office. Working was difficult, but I pushed through the thoughts of Aelin, no Aire, and after an hour of struggle, I had put her in the back of my mind enough to work for four more hours.
Aire was in her room when I came out. She had cleared the kitchen of Magnus's meal prep and stored everything away in the fridge. The smell of food coupled by my alcohol filled stomach zapped my appetite and I closed the fridge. There was a smudge of paint on the door handle that made me think of her.
What did she spend all day doing? I wondered? My feet carried me to her study. I switched on the light and it bathed a clean room with a desk at one end of the wall and an easel with a canvas covered up by a white sheet at the center. I had seen some of her works in the dossier and the few she showed in Milan. I had to admit begrudgingly that they were good. Her specialty lay in doing abstract portraits. My hand itched to see what was beneath. I don't know why I was resistant. Maybe it was remembering how cagey she had been when I first came in here. Ever since then, I had steered clear of her studio to respect her privacy. But did she deserve it? Certainly not after lying to me.
I snatched the cloth away and let it fall down to the floor. It was a half-finished painting. I couldn't tell what it was yet, but something inside me sank. A sort of disappointment that I remember feeling when I was a kid when my father did not come to one of my recitals. I don't know what I thought I was going to see. A portrait of me? Now why would she paint something like that?