Page 68 of The Billionaire's Promise

"I'll lose my license," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. It was a mistake. I owed some money and I didn't have it."

"So you stole from me?" I asked, incredulous. "You took family heirlooms, things my grandparents expected me to hand down to my own children, and pawned them to pay your debts? Who did you owe money to?"

"Can you keep your voice down?" he asked, glancing around. The crowd was listening with avid interest, not even pretending to look at the art.Wewere the show now, and if Brayden thought this entire conversation wasn't going to hit every ear in Atlanta by midnight, he was sadly mistaken.

"No," I said. "Who did you owe money to? And for what?"

"I can't tell you," he mumbled, looking at the ground. "Can't you just let it go?"

"No. Tell me what you wanted the money for and I'll drop the charges."

Vance squeezed my arm and said, "Magnolia."

"Do you promise?" Brayden asked.

"First tell me why you needed the money," I said.

"For Heather's engagement ring," he confessed in a low voice. "I was over-extended and I couldn't get credit. She wanted a ring, and I thought—"

"You thought you'd steal from your current fiancée to buy a ring for your new one? God, you're a dumbass," I said.

If I hadn't had Vance beside me, his ring on my finger and his declarations of love fresh in my ears, I might have murdered Brayden. As it was, I laughed.

"So will you drop the charges? I really am sorry," he said with a sheepish smile I'm sure he thought was charming.

"No," I said.

"But, you promised," he sputtered. "You said—"

"I lied," I cut in. "And you're an idiot."

"Come on, Maggie, don't be such a bitch. I'm sorry about everything, but you don't need to get back at me by doing this."

"Get back at you?" I laughed again. "I don't need to get back at you at all. I've moved on. I don't care about you anymore. But you were stealing from me. You knew I loved that bracelet, knew my grandmother gave it to me, and you pawned it for cash. You must have known I'd go crazy looking for it, but all you wanted was to make yourself happy. You'll have to hope your lawyer can work a miracle, because we have you on video at my house and they're tracking down the things you pawned. You're going to lose a lot more than your license."

"You fucking cunt—" Brayden swore. He didn't get the chance to say more. Vance lunged forward and swung his fist, catching Brayden right on the jaw. Brayden dropped like a sack of rocks. Vance stepped back and shook out his hand.

"Fuck. Forgot how much that hurts."

I caught his hand in mine and rubbed his fingers. "Careful with those hands, honey," I said. "You can't work if you get injured."

Vance kissed my forehead. "I've been dying to hit him for years. If he moves, I'll do it again."

"He's not worth it," I said.

"No, but you are." He rested his lips on my skin, and I leaned into him, twining my fingers with his.

"When you're not being an asshole, you're pretty sweet," I said.

"Charming, not sweet," he said, trailing his lips down my cheekbone to my mouth and kissing me slowly. I forgot everyone was watching us and kissed him back, my body melting into his.

"Uh, guys? The dickhead is getting up," Charlie said, staring down at Brayden as if he were something she'd stepped in.

I looked over my shoulder to see Brayden sneering at us, propped up on one hand, touching his cheek gingerly with the other. "I'm fucking pressing charges, asshole. You hit me!"

"No shit," Vance said with a laugh. "Did you just figure that out?"

"I'm going to fucking kick your ass," Brayden shouted.