Page 50 of Faking Cinderella
I step forward until our bodies line up when she refuses to budge an inch. Doesn’t matter that I have her by at least eight inches and probably a hundred pounds.
She’s not backing down from staring at me, and she doesn’t retreat.
She also doesn’t shove me back when her hands land on my chest, though we’re both aware that she could.
Absolutely, undoubtedly, no questions, this woman thinks she runs the whole world.
But she’s fuckingkindtoo.
And I don’t like that contradiction in her.
“Why are you pretending to be someone you’re not?” I reply.
“I don’t know who you think you are?—”
“You were at the Hoteliers Association dinner. Saved Imogen Carter from your father’s drunk ass.”
“He wasn’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Victory. “You’re right. He wasn’t drunk. Just checking.”
Her pretty blue eyes narrow. “What do you want?”
“For my silence?”
“Yes.”
“The truth.”
“So that you can tell Decker because he asked you to come here andaccidentallybe my housemate so that you could spy on me and find out all of my secrets?”
“You’re very suspicious.”
She arches a brow and glares up at me. “What part of that was wrong?”
“Irrelevant. How long do we have before your security agent realizes you’re trapped in a closet?”
Her cheeks take on a subtle pink stain. “Two minutes at most.”
“He didn’t intervene Friday night. When you ambushed me.”
“He understands the delicate situation, and he knew I had things under control.”
“Why’s it delicate?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You’re lying to a guy who saved my life once. I’m making it my business.”
“He saved your life,” she repeats.
No. Fuck, no. We were barely at the same duty station long enough for that to happen, even if we did make fast friends. Back when I could make fast friends. When I trusted the whole fucking world as much as a Marine can trust the whole world.
“Yes.”
Her gaze slides to the door. “By making you into a character in a book?”
“People can do more than one thing in their lives.”
