Page 131 of Under the Lies

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” he grumbles as we pull up to the valet outside of Reeve’s art gallery. The same art gallery where Noah finger banged me against the painting.

Turning my head, I blink once, twice, taking in the frustration on his face.

I haven’t said a word to him all day, not when he handed me a box that held the dress I’m wearing now. Not when he took my hand in his, leading me to the couch to gift me a pair of shoes.

Or re-gift since they were the shoes he stole from me the first night at Heathen’s Hell.

I didn’t say anything as he slipped them on. Fastening the strap around my ankle, where his hand lingered for the briefest of touches before I stood up.

“Depends,” I answer, hand going to the door. Already wanting this night to be over. I’m tired of pretending.

“On?”

“Are you going to keep ignoring me or go back to acknowledging my existence?” I open the door and get out before he can respond.

He follows suit, handing the keys to the valet before walking over, grabbing my elbow and pulling me to his side. “I don’t think I need to remind you of tonight’s objective.”

I grind my teeth before remembering we’re in a place people can see us. Plastering on the fakest smile I can muster, I stare into his soulless eyes. “Of course not, darling.”

His eyes narrow at my endearment.

I know my role perfectly at this point.

Together, arm in arm, we walk into the room, gaining attention within seconds.

In the eyes of society, I’m the darling daughter of a prominent family and he’s the orphan who owns half their properties.

I’m their equal while Noah’s their superior.

“You have to at least act like you like me, Sayer.” He pulls me close, but I’m stiff against his side.

After several tense breaths, I force myself to relax.

“It feels weird. Being here,” I admit as Noah grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing tray.

He stiffens before handing me one. “Why?”

Not for the reasons it should.

“It reminds me of Winter Formal.” I down half the glass of bubbly at the thought. With the lights on and all the people here, I feel like I’m about to make my debut all over again. We had it in the city’s museum. Art was everywhere like it is now. It was the only part I enjoyed about that night.

He chuckles. “Only with a better escort this time.”

My head whips to his. “You remember who my escort was?”

“Mark Tulaen.”

Wide-eyed, I stare at him. That was over eight years ago. “H—how…” I flounder, searching for sentences that have left me.

“I remember everything about you.” He says it so casually, so flippantly before he takes a sip of champagne. I stare at him with my mouth open in a little O.

He remembers…

I stare up at him, into his eyes and almost suck in a breath at what’s staring back. Open and honest, I see the truth swimming in the depths of his arctic blues. My heart trips over itself as all my annoyance and anger at him for the past couple days fades away.

Noah hasn’t forgotten me, and he wasn’t lying to me at Harlots.

He wants me.

---