Page 134 of Bitter Confessions

The door swung open. A woman she hadn’t met gave her a puzzled look.

“They said somebody was ill in here?”

Jasmine bared her teeth in what she hoped was an acceptable smile. “Everything’s fine.”

As the woman nodded and headed to a stall, she took one last look at her wan reflection before heading for the door. This was no time to cry or break down. Later. When she was alone in a dark room, she’d lament the whys of her life, but not now. If rumors spread that she was pregnant on top of everything else, there’d be hell to pay. Would Roth think she started it, so he’d feel pressured to stay married to her?

The women who’d been standing at the vanity when she entered the bathroom in spectacular fashion were sitting on a nearby bench, clearly waiting for her to emerge. They fell silent when she appeared. She didn’t spare them a glance as she swept past. The effort it took to hold her head up and take one step, and then another, was excruciating. She looked down to see if there was a knife sticking out of her gut, but it was just her imagination.

When she reached the ballroom, she searched for Roth. It didn’t take long to find him, since he was one of the tallest men in the room. She started in his direction, moving unsteadily through the crowd. Her surroundings had a hazy, dreamlike quality to it. She wasn’t aware of the music or if anyone called her name. She couldn’t hear anything over the sound of crashing waves in her mind.

The crowd parted, giving her a direct path to Roth. Even amid her turmoil she noticed the woman at his side was standing a little too close. They weren’t touching, but their proximity suggested they were familiar with one another. Were they? It would be in her favor if someone captured his attention. As Warren had pointed out, there were countless beauties for him to choose from, especially in this crowd. There’d always be women hanging on the arms of the rich and powerful, batting their eyelashes in the hopes they could entice and trap...

Women like her mother.

The broad, with her low-cut dress, too-perfect pout, and ample cleavage on display, touched Roth’s arm. He glanced at her. She mouthed something, forcing him to lean down to hear her. He shook his head before straightening and looked back at the man with the handlebar mustache. The woman tried to play off her embarrassment that Roth hadn’t bothered to engage further. Jasmine would have been happy to explain that when it came to business, there was no competition.

“What better revenge is there than dressing the woman who ruined you like a slut, using her father’s reputation to establish yourself, and then casting her aside once you’ve squeezed everything you can out of her? Even I can appreciate the poetic justice in that.”

Roth had admitted he wanted to use her connections and knowledge of society for his benefit. But was he conniving enough to request a revealing dress to capitalize on their notorious affair, her mother’s infamous history, and humiliate her in the process? He claimed he’d changed his mind about punishing her, but… had he?

All emotion leeched out of her, leaving her so empty that hunger pangs knocked around in her stomach. She felt as if she’d been drenched in cold muck. She took a step back and bumped into someone. She heard a man mutter something and said a dull “sorry” but didn’t bother to see who it was.

She should leave. She couldn’t perform when her identity had been stripped to its core. She was just a means to an end for him that he didn’t want to get attached to. That was why he’d killed what was burgeoning between them.

He may have talked her out of her panic attack and stepped between her and Cecil, but he intervened for his own interests. He threatened Cecil because he was interfering with Hennessy & Co. and his comeback wouldn’t be complete without her at his side. The affectionate act he’d put on throughout the evening would disappear the moment the show was over.

Her eyes filled with tears. She was so far gone that one actually trickled down her cheek. Her life was a lie. Fake marriage, fake husband. Absent, resentful father who’d never wanted her and had tried to get rid of her. Despite Maximus’s feelings toward Elena, he’d given her a similar upbringing to her sisters, only to have her cause so much public discourse years later. If Maximus had refused to provide for Elena, would her mother have aborted her? Had no one ever wanted her for herself?

Roth shifted his eyes from Amos Faulkner to her. His brows drew together in a forbidding frown. Another tear slipped down her cheek as sorrow swamped her. She spun away, swiping at her eyes with her sleeve, uncaring if she smeared what was left of her makeup. She had to get out of here before she fell apart and really made an ass of herself. She kept her head down as she made her way to the exit, so no one would see her face.

When a hand gripped her arm and swung her around, she had no doubt who it was.

“What happened?”

“N-nothing.”

Roth cupped her chin and raised her face. She couldn’t see his expression through the tears, but it didn’t take a genius to know he wasn’t pleased she was here instead of the library, where he’d told her to stay. She wrenched her chin out of his grasp and tried to step away, but he hooked an arm around her.

“I’m sorry. I was going to step out for some fresh air,” she said lightly as she dabbed at the tears falling freely now. She pushed at him. Why the hell was he touching her? It was twisting that invisible knife, increasing her pain tenfold.

“Darling, it seems Roth’s wife has had some... mishap,” a nasal voice drawled. “Can you take care of her?”

She went rigid as she realized the people he’d been talking to had followed and were now standing around them in a loose semicircle. She averted her face and strained away from Roth.

“I think his wife needs a refreshment. Or maybe she’s had too many and needs to lie down somewhere.”

The condescending laughter made her flinch, but it was better for them to assume she was drunk than upset.

“I can take care of myself.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth as the pressure inside of her mounted. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You all should carry on.”

Roth cupped the back of her head and forced her face into his chest in a gesture that felt almost caring. She took a deep breath and gripped handfuls of his jacket as she tried to draw on his strength, as she had when they arrived. But this time, it wasn’t working. She slowly became aware of the chuckles and the awkward throat-clearing.

“You want to hand her off to our wives so we can finish our discussion? They’ll entertain her, maybe sober her up before you head home.”

The insult and the dismissal were obvious. Her arms dropped, but when she tried to step back, Roth didn’t release her.

“I don’t need anyone to see to my wife. We’re done here.”

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