Page 42 of Discretion at Its Finest

His eyes didn’t flinch. “Exactly.”

“Do you have any idea what that’ll look like?” I snapped. “People will talk, Reid.”

“Let them.” He shrugged, casual, like it meant nothing and the fallout didn’t matter.

And for the hundredth time, I had whiplash. One second, he was plotting his revenge, threatening to unravel everything I’d tried to hold together, every lie holding it in place. The next, he was deliberately stepping into the cracks of my life, until I couldn’t tell if he was pulling me apart or putting me back together. He made me feel things I’d spent years trying to bury. Things that terrified me and that I hated myself for still wanting.

“Why would I even need to be there, Reid? It’s an investor gala, not a press stunt. Me being here is confusing and unneeded as it is,” I questioned, though I knew his answer wouldn’t be one I wanted to hear, let alone one that made sense. Because nothing about Reid Kaufman made sense at all.

“Because investors want confidence. They want stability. They want to see strong alliances between the people they’re betting on.”

“Right. Nothing says stability like the family castaway showing up with his brother’s fiancée.”

Instead of getting angry at my snarky comment, the idiot smiled. Like I’d said a funny little joke rather than the truth of our situation. He took a step closer, his eyes boring straight into my soul as I stared back at him. His hand reached up, fingertips brushing the stubborn loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I tried to ignore the sensation bubbling under my skin, but before I could look away, his hand lifted my chin higher, leaning in slightly.

“You’re going to wear the dress I picked and be on your best behavior tonight, Genevieve.”

My eyes narrowed slightly. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is if you don’t want Gregory to find out about that night… or the night in the kitchen before that. Then we’ll see how stable your little life really is.”

My cheeks flushed as my eyes went down to his lips then back up to meet his gaze. Then, I looked away. “Fine, you made your point.”

“Glad we’re in agreement.” His hand left my chin, leaving my skin feeling cold. “We leave at eight.”

Chapter eighteen

Genevieve

Ismoothed my hands down the front of the gown, gazing at myself in the mirror as my hair fluttered around my shoulders. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, unfamiliar and too calm for the chaos in my mind, resembling the kind of woman that could command a room without trying, step into any space and demand attention by just being there.

But I didn’t feel like her.

Not tonight.

I didn’t know why I was nervous. My stomach was tight, my nerves unsettled, as though my body understood something my mind hadn’t yet caught up to. Because this wasn’t just a gala. I was expected to walk into a room full of businessmen, board members and investors… on the arm of the very man I’d spent years trying to forget.

My eyes dropped to the dress again.

It fit too well. The neckline dipped just enough to make me feel exposed. The slit ran high enough up my thigh to make me question whether this was meant to be a statement or a punishment.

Probably both.

I turned away from the mirror. Gregory still wasn’t home. Reid didn’t tell me if he’d be attending the gala or where he was, though I doubted he would’ve told me.

I used to brush his absence off my shoulder at times, only mentioning it when I wanted him to be present for his son… but lately, I could feel myself searching for him more and more.

Was it because of Cheryl? The woman who all but turned up and stole his attention away from his soon-to-be wife and son? Was it Reid? Him getting closer, his touch haunting me in even my dreams, pressing on my conscience that was trying to feel guilty for enjoying what he’d done to me? I didn’t know anymore.

I stepped out of my room slowly, padding down the hallway in my heels, careful not to let them click too loudly. The door to Eugene’s room was cracked open, and warm light spilled into the hallway.

I stopped in the frame, my heart clenching as I watched him tug at Reid’s tie as he sat beside him at the edge of the bed. Reid seemed somewhat amused as Eugene was moving towards being upside down, his lower half on the bed, the upper half hanging off.

“It’s time for bed, bud,” he said gently, voice low.

“Don’t wanna go to sleep,” Eugene mumbled. “Wanna watchTransformers.”