Page 58 of Bitter Beats

“What if he’s a threat to you?”

I roll my lips together, considering her words. “Like what if he figures out our arrangement or?—”

“No!” Allegra cuts me off, her expression alarmed. “I mean, what if he’s a threat toyou, Mckenna.”

“Oh!” I toss a dismissive hand. My mind whirls and nausea swims in my stomach. I wish I didn’t mention anything about Bran. There’s nothing to say and I don’t want Allegra to worry. There’s nothing to worry about. “I’m fine. Branson and I have been classmates for years. He’s not a threat. He’s… It’s fine.”

She sighs heavily and opens her arms. I fall into them.

“I don’t believe you,” she whispers. “We still need to talk.”

“We will,” I promise. “But not tonight. Tonight, I need to get through this dinner.”

“Okay. I got you,” Allegra swears, much like Mav did earlier.

I smile for real this time. “I know.”

And I believe her. Deep down, I believe Maverick too.

I’m going to be okay. I’m going to get through this.

A woman and her daughter push into the bathroom and Allegra and I break apart. The woman gives me a curious look but there’s no judgement in her eyes, no venom in her expression.

I take a calming breath, hold my head up high, and leave the bathroom. Tonight, I have a job to do.

TWENTY

MAV

She was withdrawnfor the remainder of dinner and spent the ride home staring out the SUV window.

Alfred tosses me questioning glances, but I ignore them since I don’t have an answer. I don’t know what transpired between Allegra and Mckenna in the bathroom. When they emerged, Mckenna had it together enough to go through the motions.

To sit politely and order dinner. To smile when someone told a joke, to nod when someone asked her a question, to pick up her wine and sip at appropriately spaced intervals.

She looked the part. The perfect girlfriend. Unblemished and innocent and sweet. Gentle and understanding and dull as fuck.

But hell, I miss her fire. Her energy and her sass. That smart mouth and backbone that peeks through when I least expect it.

This watered-down version of Mckenna terrifies me more than any shit with Branson Burton.

We arrive back at the brownstone and bid Alfred good night.

As soon as we enter the home, Mckenna beelines for the stairs.

“Wait,” I say, not wanting to end the night like this. Apart, with a wall between us.

To think, our morning started so well. Was it just hours ago that we traded secrets and vulnerabilities at the kitchen island?

Now, I want to clear the air. I want reassurance that she’s okay.

I’m starving for the backstory of who the fuck Branson Burton is to her.

She turns slowly. Her expression is guarded, but her eyes meet mine.

“What do you want to know?” she sighs. She sounds tired and emotionally drained.

I arch an eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest. “Who the fuck is he?”

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