Page 10 of Fake Dark Vows

I glance up, spot Central Park, and make a beeline for it. It’s been years since I’ve wandered through the park, and I’m hoping it will soothe my nerves and calm my racing pulse.

“Please, Brandon,” she says. “For your dad’s sake.”

I’m aware of my own heartbeat, my stale morning-after breath, the pounding headache vibrating with each footstep. “What about Damon? Have you asked your husband to put everything behind him too?”

“Can we leave Damon out of this?”

“It’s a bit difficult when you’re married to my younger brother.”

It’s a low blow and not my finest move, but my hangover is kicking in, and I have too much to do before I head to Ruby Island for the birthday bash of the century.

“I know. You’re right…” Classic Kelly, trying to play peacekeeper. “I’m sorry, I knew it was a mistake to call, but Ruby is so excited about this week, that I thought, well, I just wanted to let you know that there’ll be no animosity on my part.”

“Is that it?” I ask.

Another pause, and I hear her sucking in a deep breath. “That’s it.”

“Great.” I go to end the call and then think better of it. “Kelly,” I say, praying that she’s still there.

“I’m here.”

“I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try.”

“Thank—”

I cut her off.

CHAPTER 4

Rose

I’m in the shower, trying to rinse away the alcohol oozing from my pores when my phone rings. I tug back the shower curtain, flick water from my hand into the tub, and reach for the device on the vanity unit. My fingers are still wet though, and the phone slides into the basin which, fortunately, is empty.

“Hello?” The tinny voice reaches me from the speaker—I must’ve answered without realizing.

“Damn!” I cringe when I realize that whoever is on the other end can hear me and cuss under my breath.

Leaving the shower running, I step out of the tub, creating puddles on the bathmat and the tiled floor as I reach out to grab my phone with one hand, and move my sopping wet hair away from my ear with the other. I can’t afford to repair a waterlogged cell, and I let my insurance lapse when my last job fell through. I’d let the call go straight to voicemail if I wasn’t waiting to hear back from one of the jobs I’ve applied for.

I hit the green button as the call ends.

“No, no, no,” I mutter to myself. “I got out of the shower to answer you.”

I locate the call log, find the unknown number, and press redial. The person at the other end picks up on the first ring.

“Hello,” I say, realizing, too late, that I’m talking over their introduction so now I have no idea who they are or where they’re calling from. “You just tried calling me. I’m Rose Carter. Sorry, I was in the shower, and I dropped my phone, and now I’m dripping water all over the bathroom.”

Stop talking, Rose, I tell myself. Way too much information.

A woman’s voice chuckles at the other end, and I allow myself to take a deep breath. She didn’t cut me off—yet.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” she says. “My name is Julia Fields. You don’t know me, but I’m calling from Weiss Petroleum. I’m Mr. Weiss’s personal assistant.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and groan out loud.

“Is this about the suit? It is, isn’t it? Look, I apologized for the fingerprints and the wine.” I pause. “Well, maybe not the wine, but it was an accident, and he was so rude, and he said that I couldn’t afford to replace the jacket, which is probably true, so I don’t really know what he expects me to do about it.”

I run out of steam as an image of Mr. Weiss—Julia Fields’ boss—holding his empty glass at arm’s length while wine drips from his lapels, pops into my head. I wish I’d never walked into his building with my father’s lunch because now I can’t even take a shower without him rearing his well-groomed head to spoil it.

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