Page 5 of Beautiful Cruelty

When the bridal boutique’s text arrives, asking if I’m okay and if I’d like to refund my dress, that’s when I lose what little composure I have.

Loud, choking sobs punch out from my throat as if they’re being ripped out from the pits of my stomach. Reality closes in on me. I squeeze my eyes shut and bang my hands against the steering wheel as I continue to ugly-cry.

But for the first time since last night, I don’t see Nathan fucking Caroline on his desk.

Instead, I see a pair of storm-gray eyes and an enigmatic smile. Broad shoulders that stretch the fabric of his tailored suit. And blond hair falling across his forehead in a way that beckons my fingers to brush it out of the way.

Maybe it's the way he noticed the details of my shoes. Maybe it's how he didn't offer me any empty sympathy about Nathan.

Or maybe I'm just desperate to feel something other than heartbreak.

Another text comes in, this time from the photographer jolting me out of my crying fit to inform me that he’s not refunding our down payment.

But I don’t care about that right now.

All I find myself doing is staring at Vadim’s newly-created profile in my phone as one text after another continues to pour in, requesting confirmations and updates that my wedding really is over before it even got started.

My finger hovers over the call button.

No… I decide. I can't.

I won’t.

But I'm a goddamn liar if I say I don’t want to hear that voice again, even if it's the last thing I should be doing right now.

Especiallybecause it's the last thing I should be doing right now.

2

LACEY

My phone ringsjust as I'm pulling out of the parking lot. My sister Megan’s name flashes across the screen, and I hit the speaker button.

"Hey Megan."

"Lacey! I'm so sorry, but I've got to work late tonight. My boss wants me to help fact-check everything before we upload the latest episode.”

"Since when did the Voice start fact-checking?" I merge into the right lane, heading north.

I can practically see Megan rolling her eyes on the other end.

The Seattle Voice, where Megan works, is a podcast that claims to be hard-hitting citizen journalists telling the truths that “the man” doesn’t want us to know about.

But from the few episodes Megan made me listen, it sounds more like the ramblings of multiple conspiracy theorists all trying to shout over each other in thirty-minute segments.

I guess that’s why it has over seven million listeners. Not for nothing else, itispretty damn entertaining.

"Ha-ha, real funny," she says. "I'm just calling because I need you to check on Dad for me. I know Freddy's supposed to be there, but..." She trails off meaningfully. "Well, I don’t trust him."

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Yeah, of course. I was about to head that way anyway." A lie, but a small one. "Actually, I was planning on crashing there tonight."

"What? Why?" There's a pause, and I can practically hear her brain clicking into gear. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just..." I bite my lip, debating how much to tell her. Not about Nathan. Not yet. And definitely not about the gorgeous billionaire who's about to put Mrs. Klossner out of business. "Just one of those days, you know?"

"Lacey, the work day's barely just gotten started." She doesn't sound convinced. "Look, I'll pop over later, and you can tell me everything."

"Everything's fine?—"

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