Page 70 of Ruthless Wars

“I get it,” Paco says. “You’re protective. That’s good. But how about the three of us have a seat and talk? There are things Margot can’t tell you, and there are things you can’t tell Margot. That’s where I come in. I know enough about each of you that I’ve just become the perfect arbitrator.”

With us all taking seats around the small outdoor table, casually popping pretzel bites and ordering coffees, I’m still not comfortable talking about anything until Paco’s first statement hits me like a two-ton brick.

“Margot isn’t married. Technically, she never was.”

It takes me a minute to shake off my stunned silence. “If she isn’t married, why the hell didn’t she just say that?” I ask, more irritated now than ever, talking about her like she’s not sitting three inches from me. I turn to her, and again receive the silent treatment.

Paco answers. “Because she can’t. She’s keeping a secret, and as much as she cares for you, it’s not her secret to tell. It’s actually not my secret to tell, either. But I’m going out on a limb because you’re one of us. The Alliance. And if there’s one thing we can do, it’s keep a secret.”

I fidget a little, not exactly comfortable with this guy throwing around the Alliance’s name in public like this. Maybe it’s his confidence coupled with his lack of concern that settles me.

Still, I ask, “Should we be discussing this here?”

“Not normally. But I’ve got a disrupter in my pocket. Any listening device won’t work, and no one’s around. And it’s a hell of a lot safer to chat out here than at Long Multinational’s headquarters or yours.”

When he cocks a brow, as if requesting permission to continue, I nod.

“Margot’s marriage was a sham.”

“Paco!” she says quickly, frowning at him.

He chuckles. “Do you have a better word?”

We’re all quiet for a moment as our coffees are delivered. He savors his sip, followed by an appreciative mmm.

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to tamp down my impatience.

“She married Guillermo Fernando Rodriguez, and the media got it wrong. He’s not a count; he’s a viscount.”

“Oh,” I say like I know the difference, but I don’t.

“But the marriage was never ...” Paco pauses, and his tan takes on a distinctly reddish sheen.

“Consummated,” Margot mutters under her breath.

My questioning glance volleys between the two of them. “Should I ask why? Was this a marriage of convenience? For a title?”

“God, no,” Margot lashes out. “I’m already a duchess by blood.”

“You are?” And this is the point when I realize I really don’t know this woman at all, and Google barely grazed the surface. I ignored the rest of the texts from Corey about Margot, now realizing I've got some reading to catch up on.

She nods meekly. “When my mother married Everett, technically, she should have renounced her title. And technically, he should have given up his American citizenship. But technically, they both gave the proverbial middle finger to the rules. So, my bloodline stands unless someone contests my title—which rarely happens, because who the hell cares? Outside a world of aristocrats, titles are meaningless, and it’s not like I want it on a business card.”

“Then why marry Guillermo Fernando—”

“Roddie,” she says, correcting me, and her nickname floors me a little. “Roddie and I have been good friends for a long time. I was the one who introduced him to Wyatt. My brother.” Margot gives Paco a glance, like she’s reached the limit of what she can comfortably say and is handing him the baton.

Paco takes it and shares the truth. “Roddie and Wyatt are in love. But Roddie has a huge inheritance that has several key conditions. He had to be married by twenty-five. And with the irritatingly conservative nature of his family, they’re not convinced that being gay isn’t a choice. To them, it seems a bit negotiable. So, they threatened to withhold his inheritance—cutting him out entirely—if he didn’t marry a woman. That’s where Margot came in.”

Margot sits a little taller in her seat, and somehow, I’m proud of what she’s done.

“Margot stood in at the ceremony ... as a sort of proxy, not legally but emotionally. Wyatt stood behind her. For the three of them, it was as close to a wedding day that Roddie and Wyatt will have—at least for the foreseeable future. And Margot and Roddie stayed married long enough for the funds to clear. But moving nearly a billion dollars takes a little time, and his family wasn’t exactly quick about it.”

“Buttheads,” Margot says softly. She turns to me, and there’s a lightness to her expression. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

I can’t help kissing her lips, taking my sweet time to enjoy their softness against mine. When I break away, a question is still gnawing at the back of my mind. “But if you’re not married, why didn’t you say so?”

“The papers,” she says. “You flashed them at me, and with the questions the press had, I started doubting if the divorce had been finalized. If I'm actually divorced, why does everyone still think I'm married?”

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