Page 71 of Bitter Secrets

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t let the tears take over. She blinked them away and plunged ahead. The only way she could deal with what happened last night was to have their characters act out a version of it on screen. Unlike her and Roth, Juliet and Rex had moved past their failed marriage. But, in a moment of striking honesty, Rex ruins everything by bringing up the past.

She sped through the conversation, not allowing herself to dwell on Roth’s confessions, but focused more on Juliet’s reaction—the shock, confusion, and disillusionment she felt.

“Why tell me this now?” Juliet shouted. “What’s the point?”

“I want you to see the real me,” Rex said.

She flinched. She saw him, all right, in all his gory glory. Last night, she pushed, expecting Roth to stonewall, but she got more than she bargained for when he told the truth, shattering the last of her illusions. A part of her wished he lied. Although everything pointed to his ulterior motives, there was still the minute possibility that he felt something genuine for her, and it wasn’t all motivated by money. Last night, he obliterated that hope. He admitted that he cataloged her weaknesses and used them against her. He knew she was lonely and vulnerable, an outsider like him, and used that to isolate, seduce, and set himself up as the white knight. He read her work as Minnie Hess, not because he was interested in the story but because he wanted to glean everything he could about the person who wrote it to manipulate her. She had been such an easy mark. How was she supposed to look him in the eye, knowing that he’d seen her as a means to an end from the very start?

Her fingers stumbled over the keys. She drank the rest of her chamomile tea to eradicate the bitter taste on her tongue. She was dimly aware of people coming and going and time passing as light shifted across the table, but she was completely immersed in the story.

A hand gripped the top of her screen. She jolted and stared at Johan.

“I think they’re getting ready to close.”

She looked around and saw that most of the patrons had cleared out and the workers were giving them pointed looks. She looked back at the scene. Rex and Juliet had concluded their fight the same way she and Roth had. In bed. That wasn’t supposed to happen. When she started to erase what she’d written, Mo grabbed her laptop. She snatched it from him and put it into her bag. She would have to rewrite it later. She rose, biting back a groan, and resisted the urge to rub her numb butt.

Before they left, she gave the baristas a generous tip that improved their mood and had them cheerily telling her to come back again. She hunched her shoulders against the cold as they exited and saw the sun was just beginning to set.

“Can we walk for a while?”

Johan took her work bag and went to the car while she and Mo strolled. He walked a little behind her so as not to intrude, which was a good thing since her mind was consumed with her story. There was no way she would allow Juliet ending up with Rex. They weren’t going to fall for Roth/Rex’s shit. Rex was hellbent on coming clean about things that should have stayed buried, starting a landslide that turned Juliet’s world upside down. He provoked Juliet and used her emotional vulnerability to make his move and reclaim something Juliet never intended to offer.

He’ll topple companies, destroy relationships, pay millions to reclaim what he once got for free.

She quickened her pace. What did Roth want from her? To hurt her? Break her? Repay her for leaving him and having her father dig into his past? What would assuage his need for revenge?

She didn’t realize how far she walked until Johan pulled up beside them. She ducked into the back seat and stared out the window as they made their way back to Roth’s building.

Mo escorted her through the empty lobby to the elevator. She leaned against the wall and stared at Mo’s broad back. Even though the moment had passed, she knew her breakdown was on his mind, as it was still on hers. When the doors opened, he stepped aside to let her pass. She stepped into the entry hall and turned to face him.

“What do you report to him?”

“Everything.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you going to tell him about today?”

He eyed her intently. “What time we collected you, where we went, how you behaved.”

Her nails sank into her arm. “Behaved?”

“Your well-being is our primary duty.”

“Isn’t that his job, not yours?”

“When he’s not in attendance, it’s part of our duties,” he said smoothly.

She looked away as she asked, “And what are you going to report about my behavior today?”

“You were tense, stressed, a bit manic.” When her head snapped back to him, he added, “You had a panic attack.”

“It wasn’t.”

“What was it, then?”

In a distant part of her mind, she was amazed that the elevator doors hadn’t closed. He stood in the middle of the elevator, hands clasped behind him, as if he had all the time in the world.

“I have asthma,” she lied.

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