Chapter Sixteen #2
But then I saw Charles turn toward me. And because I was watching him, I saw the words form on his lips.
That bitch.
Yeah, Harrison didn’t keep his cool after that.
He took a threatening step forward, towering over the older man, his jaw so tight that I could see a muscle ticking there from all the way across the room.
“There she is!” Mitch said, stealing my focus away from Harrison.
Then there was Marg, in all of her bouncy, sweet, motherly charm.
And Marg?
Marg knew everyone.
And thought I also needed to know everyone. Or, at least, know everything there was to know about everyone.
I lost track of time.
And champagne.
And names.
But it was hard not to enjoy Marg’s enthusiasm. And, well, the ambiance of the place. Even if I felt like an outsider the whole time.
“Oh, you think you feel like an outsider,” Marg said when I admitted that to her. She gave my arm a pat. “Try being someone who enjoys carbs.”
“I love carbs,” I told her.
“Oh, your handsome fella is making his way over here quick, fast, and in a hurry,” Marg said.
I tensed but tried to school my face into a look of innocence as we both turned toward Harrison.
“Marg, nice to see you again,” he said, giving the woman a warm smile. All traces of the anger that had just been on his face had disappeared.
“You too, Harrison. I was just getting to know this lovely lady. But I think I see my husband trying to eat more of those bacon-wrapped scallops. And he knows his cholesterol is a problem!”
She hurried off at that, leaving me surprisingly anxious to face Harrison alone.
I forced myself to feign nonchalance as I sipped my champagne.
When he said nothing, I decided I was going to need to.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to.”
“He’s a dick.”
“He is,” Harrison agreed.
“And I think it’s shitty that none of you said anything.”
“You’re right. It was.”
“I don’t care that you had some business deal with him. Wrong is wrong.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“Marg is delightful.”
“She is.”
“Why are you being so nice?” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Am I supposed to be mad at you?”
“I insulted your business partner.”
“He had it coming.”
“He called me a bitch,” I said, watching his face.
“He did. And I will no longer be pursuing that business venture with him.”
“Because he thinks I’m a bitch?”
“Because he thought he could call you that.”
God, why did he have to continue to be a good guy in literally every other way but signing my annulment papers?
“You’re supposed to be annoyed.”
“I am.”
“At me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Sure it is. I’m really good at pissing people off.”
“By being a good person?” He asked, making a sound escape me that was dangerously close to a growl. “Did you forget to eat?” he asked.
“Yes, but I’m not annoyed because I’m hungry.”
“I’m willing to bet it’s not helping.”
“You don’t know me,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I know you enough to know you get grumpy when you haven’t eaten.”
I chose to ignore that.
“Aren’t you embarrassed?”
“For failing to speak up? Yes.”
“About me,” I clarified. At his knitted brows, I sighed and waved down at my body. “About my outfit.”
His gaze lazily tracked down my body. I swear each inch of skin he looked at warmed.
“Why the hell would how you look embarrass me?”
“This is inappropriately sexy,” I insisted.
“It is sexy,” he agreed, his arm lifting and going around my hip, pulling me closer.
“My boobs are practically out.”
“Not enough for my taste,” he said, his eyes sliding down my chest.
“The slits are completely indecent,” I told him.
“I’m a big fan of your legs.”
God, he had to stop pulling me closer. My mind and my body were always at odds around him. And my pulse was already thrumming, my skin warming.
“Fine. But you don’t want all your business associates to see them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they might think the wrong thing.”
“Like what? That you have nice legs and I like seeing them?”
“That I don’t fit in here.”
That got a deep sigh out of him.
“So, that’s what this is about.”
“What did you think it was?”
“A pleasant surprise.”
There was a quick jolt of guilt.
I hadn’t exactly considered that angle. That by showing up, he might have thought it was a sign that I’d been softening, reconsidering my feelings on our whole situation.
I’d been so focused on making him see I didn’t fit in his world that I hadn’t considered this possibly being genuinely hurtful.
“What makes you think you don’t fit in here?” he asked.
“We are from different worlds.”
“Are we? Because I fit in pretty well with your family. And it seems like you got on well with Mitch and Marg.”
“Mitch and Marg, maybe. But not everyone else here.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, sweetheart,” he said, pulling me a little closer. “No one fits in here. Everyone pretends they do. But no one does. It’s all an elaborate play.”
“You fit in.”
“I was taught how to play my part from the cradle.”
Okay.
That was kind of sad.
“I also want to stress that this,” he said, glancing around, “is not my world.”
“It’s part of it.”
“An extremely small part of it. I don’t care if these people like you or not. Most of them don’t even like themselves.”
“So this was a waste of a trip,” I grumbled, sipping the rest of my champagne.
Harrison plucked the empty flute from my fingers and placed it on the nearest table.
“Why does it have to be a waste? The food is surprisingly good at this event.”
“A bacon-wrapped scallop doesn’t sound awful.”
With that, he led me around, plucking food off of trays until I was no longer starving.
We were stopped no fewer than a dozen times. It seemed the news of our ‘marriage’ had gotten around. And everyone wanted to talk to the woman who snagged one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. No kidding. More than one person actually used that term.
Harrison remained effortlessly charming.
I only got more and more convinced that I was right after all.
Because with each interaction, I got insights into his world. There were endless discussions about international summer camps, college, and private clubs. Yes, plural.
Social clubs, gentlemen’s clubs, country clubs, yacht clubs, polo clubs. Yes, polo.
Then there were the philanthropy ones.
Museum boards, foundations, patron societies, historical preservation societies.
I mean, the guy even slipped into French at one point. In casual conversation.
“You okay?” Harrison asked when another group walked away from us.
“I think I need some air.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer, just broke away and made my way out of the event room.
The air immediately felt thinner in the front hallway, with its ultra-high ceilings and lack of a crowd.
My heels clicked across the floor as I made my way toward the front doors.
This had been a mistake.
All I did was convince myself more and more that I didn’t belong with Harrison while he remained completely unaware of that fact.
But it had never been clearer to me that I needed to end this marriage.
“Layna,” Harrison called, making me tilt my head up at the sky and sigh.
Of course he had to be the good guy and come to check on me.
My heart begged me to flee.
But there was no way I was outpacing him in the ice pick heels on my feet.
So I just let him rush up to me.
“Let me drive you back to… wherever you are heading.”
His hand went to the small of my back. The other arm raised to gesture toward a SUV.
He was going to make a big deal out of it, so I went ahead and just agreed.
The inside of this SUV was a little more upgraded than the one he had me use, with two separate TV screens and a barrier between the front and back seats.
He gave the hotel name to the driver before sliding the partition closed for privacy.
“I don’t want to talk,” I grumbled as I watched it slide closed.
“Good,” Harrison said, his hand teasing up the slit on my thigh. “I don’t want to talk either.”