Page 186 of Charming Deception

That part is understandable. Megan would be impossible to replace.

But he’ll move on soon enough.

It’s a common practice of narcissists to keep other potential sources of supply in the wings, primed and ready, just in case.

Like whoever he’d cheated on her with.

I know this because I read up on narcissism and even consulted with a top expert in the field after I found out Megan had been manipulated by and emotionally abused by one for years. I also know she was raised by a struggling single mom, abandoned by a narcissistic father who loved only the prospect of his son’s success and invested nothing in his daughter’s life other than the meager support payments he was required to cough up. Cole told me enough to make me despise the man, when I’ve never even met him.

But her ex-boyfriend is worse.

He’d preyed on her goodness, her vulnerability, her need to be loved. He’d taken advantage of the kind, giving person she was, for years.

The fact that he’d somehow gotten his hooks into her today, convinced her with whatever lies that she needed to race home, was unconscionable.

The man was garbage.

He had her so upset that she’d somehow given Rurik, who drove her to Nicole’s and was waiting for her outside, the slip. And hopped on a plane to rush here.

For him.

He probably told her he was dying or something.

The fucking con artist.

She must know this guy is Mr. Wrong. Mr. Fucked-in-the-Head.

She’d never go back to him, would she?

When Locke pulls our rented car up in front of Megan’s mom’s house, I’m out the door so fast, Rurik has to run to follow me.

There’s a truck outside, and I know it’s Troy’s.

“I just want you to leave, Troy! How many times do I have to say it?”

I hear Megan yelling from inside the house, and the rage that crashes through me is blinding as I push my way inside. I barely know how I got there.

What if he put his hands on her?

“Calm,” I hear Locke mutter from somewhere behind me. He and Rurik are both on my heels.

We all pile into the living room to find Megan and her ex-boyfriend facing off. I’m so fucking relieved to see they’re not touching. That they stand several feet apart, and Megan isn’t crying.

She’s just telling him to leave.

They both look at us in shock. The dog sitting at Megan’s feet startles, pops to its feet, and starts barking at Megan’s ex.

Megan gives the dog a hand signal and says calmly, “Quiet,” and the dog stops barking. “Now sit.” The dog sits.

“Megan.” I stand there, panting, and her attention moves from the dog to me. Warmth explodes in my chest when our eyes connect.

“Who the fuck is this?” Troy demands.

“Jameson,” she breathes.

When I force myself to look at her ex, his face is going pale, and I can tell he knows exactly who this is.

I take stock. He’s thinner than me, dressed in a plaid shirt and work jeans, kind of ruggedly handsome in a blue-collar sort of way, and I hate him instantly.

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