Page 34 of Tangled In Lies

Once I’m calm enough to continue this ridiculous conversation, I lower myself back in my office chair, the leather squeaking when I put my whole weight into it.

Are you just going to let her get away without getting any more information?

She’s playing you for a fool.

Don’t be weak, Son.

I inhale deeply and push the suffocating thoughts aside, especially when they come in the form of my dad’s voice.

Sure, I could use my dad’s techniques and torture the answers out of her. Eventually, she would give them to me because everyone has a breaking point. Evenmy fallen angel does. But to what avail? That she’d be broken and bloodied and never able to act the part I need her to play?

Not worth it.

I want answers, yes. But I also want to get my new business endeavor off the ground, and I need her for that. In one piece.

So, I nod and say, “Yes, there are rules, and I expect you to follow them.”

She stares at me, clearly waiting for me to lay them out so she can leave. To get away from me as fast as possible, just like she continues to do.

“When we’re both home, I expect you to eat with me in the dining room. For all intents and purposes, we will present this as a real marriage, and I will not tolerate anyone questioning the integrity of it, inside my home or otherwise.”

“Just remember, I told you I won’t sleep with you.”

Her voice is almost friendly, and I’m taken aback by it. What game is she playing now?

I focus back on the conversation and her ludicrous sex statement. “Yes, you’re unwilling to have sex with me. Got that loud and clear. I also remember telling you I don’t take women without their consent. It’s truly not my thing.”

“No sharing a bedroom either.”

I thought about that one for a long time. I know it would drive her crazy if I made her share a bed with me, but then I came to one conclusion: I don’t think I could handle it either. I’d probably end up killing her in my sleep one night, which would be incredibly inconvenient.

I nod but stay quiet as she continues.

“I’d also appreciate it if you could keep your affairs low-key and out of the press.”

So matter of fact, as if we’re discussing the weather.

I know some of this is how we grew up and how particular manners and expectations were drilled into us. It’s like this neutral to slightly friendly state is her norm, and real emotions are slipups, like when she was lost to something in her mind earlier.

The more time I spend with her, the less anything about her or what happened makes sense.

It’s also crystal clear she’s not the same girl I used to know.

If I didn’t see her sitting in front of me with my own two eyes, I’d swear she’s an imposter.

I got a few real glimpses of her old self in the past few days when that fire I was so used to sparked in her eyes. That version seems years away from who’s sitting in front of me now. This person is a cheap copy of her. A robot. The urge to ask her, “Who are you?” is strong, but what’s the point?

I clear my throat. “We will start attending events together this weekend, and I expect you to act appropriately. Pretending is your specialty, so you shouldn’t have any problem with that.”

“I need to know what events and when they occur to prepare accordingly and see if it works for me.”

Leaning back, I steeple my fingers in front of me. “Evangeline, let me make one thing very clear. I don’t give a fuck about your social calendar. You’re mine now, and you will do as I say. If I tell you to be somewhere, you better be there.”

Her jaw flexing is the only outward sign she isn’t happy about this. “I’m going to marry you because I have to, but I’m not your property. I have my own life and engagements I will continue.”

The control she has over most of her emotions is strangely fascinating. If I had to guess, she’s ready to scratch out my eyes with her fingernails. She must be.

She shifts in her seat, uncrossing and crossing her legs. “I also need keys and access codes to the house.”

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