Page 81 of Fall For Me
Her head snaps up, weariness flickering across her features.
“No,” she blurts. The instant hard pass stings more than I care to admit. “I mean—thank you, but no. I haven’t told them I’m married.”
Why does that hurt even more? Our marriage is a sham.
“Okay,” I say, keeping my face neutral. This isn’t about me, it’s about her and her family. “I could have Kit look into things,” I offer. “See if he finds out anything about what’s going on with them.”
Peyton’s mouth quirks into the first proper smile since she walked back in. “I can’t believe you have a fixer.”
“A what?”
“A fixer. Like Hall fromBillions, the dude doing Bobby Axelrod’s dirty work.” She shakes her head, somewhere between amused and disbelieving. “Very morally gray billionaire of you.”
“I prefer to think of Kit as a resourceful personal assistant.”
“Uh-huh.” She shakes her head but she’s smiling wider now. “Yeah, okay. Have your ‘resourceful personal assistant’ look into it.”
“I’ll call him.”
* * *
The next evening, I have to deliver the hard truth.
We’re in the living room. Peyton is curled into the corner of the sectional with a throw blanket over her legs. I’m on the opposite end when my phone pings on the armrest. I scroll through the text that came in. Read it once, then again. I stare at the words until the screen goes dark in my hand, the information burning sour in my gut.
I grab the remote and pause the TV. “Kit found out what’s going on with your parents.”
“Oh?” Peyton turns toward me, the coziness gone.
“A significant number of clients severed ties with their accounting firm,” I tell her. “The corporate accounts that generated the bulk of their revenue—they’ve all dropped them. Within the last two weeks.”
Peyton goes still. “What?”
“Kit suspects it was Matt pulling strings. He couldn’t ruin your family through the legal system, so he found another way. Business pressure. Whisper campaigns. Favors called in.”
The color drains from her face.
“Then it has all been for nothing.” She sighs. “I ruined my parents’ lives, anyway.”
She starts to cry and shake. The sobs break free—ugly, wrenching sounds that tear deep inside me.
I’m across the couch before I realize I’ve moved. I pull her into my arms, tucking her against my chest, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other rubs soothing circles between her shoulder blades.
“We’ll find a solution,” I murmur into her hair. “I’ll help. We’ll fix this.”
“How?” She shakes against me. “Thank you for offering, but I don’t even know how you could help.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“At least I have a job now.” Her red-rimmed eyes find mine. “Thanks for that. I can help them with the medical bills; that’s the most important thing.”
“No need to thank me. My company is lucky to have you.”
I’m lucky to have you, my mind echoes.
Except I don’t really have her.
She gives a tiny smile, but then her face crumples again. “He won. Gosh, I hate him.”
