Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Marigold
“Reece?” I whisper again.
Neither of us moves. The music and chatter from the ballroom leaks faintly through the closed doors behind us, but out here it feels like the world has gone completely still.
I know his voice. I know it as well as I know my own, if not better. And those two words, spilled like secrets, gave everything away.
Then No One flinches and takes a step backward like I struck him.
“Reece,” I try again and shift closer, but he shakes his head. Before he can retreat again, I surge forward and grab the edge of his mask.
“Mari, no—”
I rip it off.
The white mask falls away, hitting the ground between us. And there he is.
Reece.
Not No One. Not some mysterious Alpha from the mainland. Just Reece.
My best friend. The person who sits with me while I sketch. The person who fixes everything in the house when it breaks. The person I've trusted with my secrets, with the real me, only for him to…lie.
All I can do is stare at him for a long moment, breathing hard, my heart thudding out uneven beats. Then comes the anger; it slams into me like a sledgehammer, making it hard to see straight. Black spots dance in front of my vision.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I say, slapping both hands against his chest.
His decidedly larger chest.
His face drains of color. “Mari, please, I can explain—”
I cut him off. “I don’t understand. Are you pretending to be an Alpha?”
His mouth opens. Closes.
Finally he nods.
“Yes, but—”
“Why?” My chest hurts. Everything hurts. What the hell is wrong with him? “Was this some kind of joke?”
His eyes widen. “What? No!”
“Then what was it? Were you trying to mess with me? Play some kind of game?” I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
I can’t look away from him.
“No!” His voice cracks with the force of it. “Of course not. Mari, you know me.”
Part of me wants to believe him, but the other part—that part is furious. “Do I?”
The hurt that flashes across his face is immediate. For a second, guilt twists through me, but I’m hurting too. I feel stupid and embarrassed and betrayed all at once. How could I not know? Even without his glasses, the mask, the fake pine scent… Now it all seems so obvious.
I missed every single sign. Or worse, I ignored them.
“You…you danced with me,” I say.
His gaze drops. “I know.”
My voice rises as the pain in my chest increases. “You kissed me!”
“I know.”
“And all this time it was you?”
“Mari—”
“No!” I shout. My entire body is shaking. “I talked to you about him. I told you everything! You knew and you never told me it was you the entire time! You had plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth but you decided not to. You lied.”
His shoulders slump.
Every sketch. Every conversation. Every stupid hope I’d had since the Ackerman ball.
All of it.
And he’d stood there listening while I talked about him as if it were someone else.
How could he let me do that?
“You have to believe me,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
I want to flinch away from his words. At least he hasn’t touched me yet. How much worse will this all be if he tries to touch me?
“Then what were you trying to do?”
Blinking, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he glances toward my purse. “The Ackerman ball wasn’t supposed to be about you,” he mutters after a while. “I didn’t go there for you.”
“What?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“I went there because of Mr. Stockton.”
I blink, absolutely sure I’ve not heard him correctly. “Wait, Dominic Stockton?”
Reece nods. His gaze fixes on my purse. “The little silver box you have in there… It’s mine.”
Confused, I open my wristlet bag and pull the small device out. “But…this…”
Recognition tugs at me. I am stupid. Absolutely, ridiculously stupid. I hadn’t recognized the piece he was working on in his shed.
“Do you remember the metal box that I could only get to vibrate?” His voice seems strained now.
I turn the thing in my hand, studying it. “Wow, this is the same one? But it looks completely different—new.”
“I smoothed it out, polished it,” he explains. “I was able to use it to change my voice—” But then he stops and grimaces. “I needed it for Stockton, as a prototype. The only way I thought I could get him to talk to me was to pretend to be…well, this.”
I stare between Reece and the box.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“He wouldn’t have looked at me twice as a Delta. I thought if I could get close enough to him at the Ackerman ball, maybe I could get him to listen to my idea. The only way he’d give me a real shot was to show up as an Alpha with a prototype for the device.”
My anger wavers, and I hate that it does. I try to hold onto it. Because there are still too many unanswered questions and anger makes it easier for me to get them. Or better yet, to accept them.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. “I could’ve helped you. I could have—”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he interrupts, and looks away. “This is your Season. You’re Luxe. And I’m…I’m just a Delta.”
My stomach sinks, twisting into knots as it does. I’m about to defend him, assure him that what he is has never mattered to me, but I stop myself. None of this explains why he kissed me. I thought our friendship went beyond our denominations. I thought I meant something to him.
But he’d played a part, taken advantage of me, and lied. He had plenty of opportunities to come clean and he’d chosen not to.
Something inside me snaps.
I laugh once, but the sound comes out hollow, even to my own ears. “Wow, Reece. You know what? You’re right. You are a Delta. And me? I am an Omega.” I shove the box against his chest. He fumbles and barely catches it. “I thought you were my friend. But I guess you were pretending to be that, too.”
His face pales.
I turn and walk away. He doesn’t come after me, and I’m thankful for it. If he stopped me right now, I don’t know how long I’d be able to keep my anger separate from the tears. And God knows crying in front of him is the last thing I want to do.
By the time I make it back inside the ballroom, I’m barely holding myself together.
Somehow, the rest of the world carries on like nothing has changed.
Music is still playing. Couples dance. People are laughing and drinking champagne and pretending this whole ridiculous Season is the most important thing in the world.
Meanwhile, it feels like my heart has been carved out of my chest.
I almost make it across the room before I walk directly into someone and strong hands catch my shoulders.
“Whoa. There you are, Mar. I was about to put in a missing person report.”
I know that voice, that dry, sarcastic humor.
Iris.
Even though I’m beyond thrilled to see her, I keep my head down, hoping she won’t notice the absolute turmoil I’m feeling. It lasts all of two seconds.
“Mari?” Hands still on my arms, she gives me a little shake and dips her head to try and meet my eyes. “Hey, what’s going on?”
It’s enough to crack whatever fragile control I have left. I look up.
Big mistake.
The second our eyes meet, tears spill down my cheeks.
“Oh, shit,” she breathes. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
But I can’t speak. I’m heaving for breath now as crying turns into full-on sobbing. Grabbing my hand suddenly, Iris starts tugging me through the crowd.
“Nope,” she says before I can even open my mouth to protest. “We’re not doing this here. If you’re gonna break, then I’ll find somewhere private.”
She drags me into a quieter alcove near one of the side hallways before turning to face me. Her gaze sweeps over me quickly, checking for something. Injuries, maybe? I don’t know.
“What happened?” she demands.
I shake my head. My vision is blurry through the streams of tears.
“Fuck, Mari. Tell me or I’m going to lose it. Who am I killing? Did someone touch you?”
Another sob escapes before I can stop it. Everything I’ve been holding back comes rushing out at once. The humiliation, the confusion, the rage, the hurt and grief, all the way back to when we lost Dad. Every single bit of it. It piles on top of me, and I’m drowning.
I fold in on myself, crying hard, my body trembling from the force.
Iris immediately wraps her arms around me. “Hey. Hey.” One hand rubs circles across my back as she shushes me. “What happened? Did someone put their hands on you? Because if they did, I just need a name—”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh slips out.
She pulls back but only a little, and her gaze is hard and scarily serious. “You may think I’m joking, Mari. But I’m not. Only say the word.”
“No.” I sniff. “It’s not that.”
“Are you sure? You know you can tell me.”
“Yes. I know. You don’t have to kill anyone tonight.”
She studies me for another moment before nodding. “Okay. Fine, but I’m ruling anything out yet.”
I manage a smile but it’s weak. A flicker. It’s all I can muster and I take several shaky breaths and wipe at my face with the back of my hand.
“I’m just…” I search for the right word. Furious. Hurt. Pissed. Confused. “Overwhelmed.”
“Honestly?” Iris says. “That’s fair.”
I let out another feeble laugh.
“These events are sensory torture. Too many people. Too much noise. Too many Alphas trying way too hard. I don’t miss it at all.”
I’m struck with the need to tell her everything.
Absolutely everything. But for some reason, I press my lips together.
I’ve been keeping things pushed down for so long, painting on smiles for even longer, that I’m not sure I know how to let the truth all out.
There was only one person who had any idea how I really felt and look what happened. He betrayed me.
“Do you want me to just take you home?” Iris asks.
The little beat of excitement that idea gives me has me nodding. “Oh my God, yes. But…what about Heath?"
Iris snorts. “Fuck Heath. I’ll handle him.”
I hesitate. It’s not that I have doubts she can handle him but I’d feel bad if they had a fight because of me. At the same time, I’m so emotionally and mentally exhausted, I don’t have the energy to worry about it too much.
If Iris says she’ll handle him, I have to believe she will.