Page 69 of The Pretender

“Do you even know who you’re sleeping with?” Stephen pointed at Harris but kept his gaze on her. “He’s working with the investigator. He’s here to find out information on you.”

The excitement in his voice suggested he wanted to knock her down with the news. But it was too late. “I know he’s with Damon.”

“You call him Damon?” Stephen yelled the question.

“Damon and Harris. They’re working together. I know all about it.” She’d already accepted this piece. A part of her always knew it to be true. They’d just finally confirmed it. Now that they had, they were trying to figure out the island’s secrets.

“You are unbelievable.” Stephen shook his head. “I guess if you sleep with them they’ll look the other way, or that’s your hope. Your father would be horrified by your tactics.”

Harris grabbed Stephen. Harris’s fingers tightened around the older man’s neck. “You are really close to being choked again.”

But the damage was done. The words were out there. In addition to all the sins he’d thought she’d committed Stephen had now added a new one. She could barely count the ways she’d disappointed him. The list was too long.

She’d tried to get through to him. Kept the slightest contact because all of her family was gone and she was desperate to reconnect. But to what? He’d severed every tie. He picked every word to inflict maximum damage. He refused to believe her, despite all her hopes that he would one day.

Enough.

“He’s staying in here. With you,” Stephen said, stating the obvious.

She wasn’t ashamed of that fact and wasn’t about to pretend to be. “Yes.”

“You’re sleeping with him. That makes you a—”

“No.” This time she was the one who took the step closer. “Stop right there. After all the unforgivable things you’ve said and done to me over the years, do you really think calling me names matters? You hate me. I get it. Well, Uncle Stephen, I don’t like you either. You want us not to be related? Fine. As of today just pretend we aren’t.”

“And then there’s the part where I’m five seconds from kicking your ass.” Harris moved his hand and tightened his grip on Stephen’s shoulder until he winced and squirmed and tried to get away from him. But Harris held on.

Stephen made a squeaking sound as he tried to move away from the punishing hold. “You are fired.”

Harris sighed. “You can say it a hundred times, but I still don’t work for you.”

It took a few tugs, but Stephen jerked out of Harris’s grip and stood up straight again. “Then I’ll let yourfriendfire you. Damon is on my payroll.”

“Good luck convincing him of that.” Harris opened the door and shoved him toward it. “And stay out until she tells you that you can come back in.”

Stephen didn’t say anything. He was too busy storming across the lawn toward the main house.

Numbness filled her now. A gray hollowness as her mind blanked out and she moved on automatic pilot.

Before she could grab the chips off the floor, Harris was in front of her with a hand on her arm and his face just inches away. “You okay?”

A wave of dizziness moved through her. “Art appraiser, my ass.”

He shot her one of those sexy smiles. “I told you I have other skills.”

“Apparently.” She needed to sit and regroup but she only got as far as the armrest of the couch. She plunked down and forced her mind to focus.

“I thought he was going to...” Harris shook his head. “I didn’t want him touching you.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically.” She didn’t even know where that came from since she was no longer sure it was true. When he’d stepped toward her, in that moment, he looked like he was prepared to do whatever he needed to take her out of the family for good.

“Your optimism is impressive but wildly naïve, Gabby. Everyone is capable of violence if pushed far enough. Don’t underestimate that.”

“He’s my uncle.” She had to believe some bond still existed. That it wasn’t that easy for him to erase her forever.

Harris cupped her cheek in his hand. “He’s unraveled. You’re right. He’s not your family anymore.” He briefly closed his eyes before opening them again. “Shit. I could have phrased it better.”

But he was right. The words matched her uncle’s actions. “No, I get it.”

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