Page 137 of The Wrong Groom

For several seconds, no one speaks. It’s quiet enough to hear the faint hum of the office’s air conditioning. My heart races, and I feel a sick, hollow sensation deep in my chest.

Then my father speaks. His voice is taut, stretched thin. “How dare you?”

Travis rises to his feet, his fists clenched, face flushed with anger. “You’re making a mistake,” he spits at Gabriel. “You⁠—”

“Travis,” my father interrupts. I realize suddenly that while he’s angry at Gabriel, he’s even more furious with Travis. Travis, who knows all about Vérité’s impropriety. Who stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.

I can see the realization dawning in Travis’s eyes too. He turns toward the desk, his movements slow and careful, like he’s standing on the edge of a sheer cliff.

“You,” my father hisses. “How dare you bring this mess into my house, into my business, without understanding the consequences?”

Travis’s mouth opens, then closes. He seems to make a mental calculation. Color floods his face, and his shoulders drop. “I’d watch your tone with me, if I were you,” he snaps. “You’re the one standing on thin ice, not me.”

“Are you threatening me?” My father slams his hands down on his desk as he shoots to his feet. “Is that how you do business? Root around for blackmail material on everyone you deal with?”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it in the first place if you hadn’t gone back on our deal!” Travis shouts. “She was promised to me, and you broke our arrangement to score a Thorne⁠—”

“We hadn’t signed anything,” my mother snaps.

“We had an agreement!”

I bury my fingers in my hair, overwhelmed by everything. By the situation, the cruelty, the sound of raised voices. I can’t be here. I can’t handle this.

As if on autopilot, I make a break for the door. My parents and Travis have devolved into a shouting match, hurling insults and threats over the glass surface of my father’s desk, and none of them even seem to notice as I slip out.

From the hallway, I hear Gabriel’s voice as he calls after me. “Alexis!”

I don’t stop.

I take the stairs rather than the elevator, even though my knees feel weak and my stomach is in open revolt. I don’t want to run into anyone on my way down to the lobby.

I don’t slow until I burst through the lobby doors and out into the street. It’s an overcast day, and the cool air feels nice against my overheated skin. My chest heaves, and for a breathless second, I think I’m about to hurl on the sidewalk right outside of Vérité’s offices, which would be the most mortifying thing to ever happen to me.

No, I’m not nauseous, I’m just dizzy. My head feels like it’s spinning, like I got put on a tilt-a-whirl in my father’s office and couldn’t leave it by going outside.

I hear Gabriel’s voice before I see him. He sounds concerned, and more than a little desperate.

“Alexis.”

He must have followed me outside. There’s a part of me that’s glad someone in that office cared to check up on me. Clearly, my parents couldn’t give less of a shit.

There’s another, larger part of me that isn’t sure what to say to him. I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t know how to think about Gabriel anymore, and the uncertainty is almost worse than the heartbreak.

“Alexis,” he says again, his voice lower now, anguished.

I turn on my heel to face him. The emotions roiling in my chest are almost painful, and I can’t hold them back any longer.

“How could you do this to me?” There are tears in my eyes, but the words feel hot on my tongue. When he flinches away from me, it’s like I’ve burned him.

His mouth opens, but I cut him off.

“Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just tell me? You broke my heart, you asshole! You⁠—”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he says, his tone pleading. He steps forward, his hands half-raised like he wants to touch me but doesn’t dare. “I swear. Travis was going to take the dirt he got on Vérité public. You would have been arrested. Your reputation would’ve been ruined, and I… I didn’t want to let him destroy what you’ve built.”

My fists curl so tight my nails bite into my palms, trembling from the force of everything I want to say and can’t. I want to scream, to lash out at him more, but all that comes out is a strangled sob.

“I had to let him think he won. I had to protect you. I divorced you so that he would back off. I needed time to prove your innocence.”