Page 63 of The Wrong Boss

“You slobber after that woman like I’ve never seen before, Cole.”

I bit back my retort and mashed the elevator button and tried another tack. “I’m engaged toyou. That means something to me.”

Alba didn’t meet my gaze. She stared at the numbers above the elevator, her shoe tapping on the tile floor. When the doors slid open, we both stepped through without a word.

All the lightness and joy that had filled me—unexpectedly—over the course of the afternoon dissolved into bitterness. The elevator began to move, and still my wife-to-be said nothing.

“I willnotcheat on you,” I started again. “That’s not who I am.”

“Was she really the only option for a golf partner?”

“My father accosted us when we arrived. He didn’t give her a choice.”

Alba snorted. “Right.”

“You know how he is, especially when he and your dad get together. You can’t say no to them when they get an idea in their heads.”

Her lips pursed, and I knew that was as much of a concession as I’d get. Tension stretched between us as the elevator brought us up to the top floor, where the family residences were located, and I found myself gripping my hands into fists and relaxing them in turn just to try to burn off some of my frustration.

We made it inside our room before she whirled on me. “I asked you forone thing, Cole. I said keep it under wraps until after the wedding.”

Scoffing, I threw my hands out to the sides. “Then what? It’s a free-for-all? Why wait at all?”

“I willnotbe made a fool of.”

“Listen to yourself, Alba! You’re making up stories about me and my assistant. What part of ‘I’m not going to cheat on you’ is so hard to understand?”

Her eyes burned into mine. “I saw the way you looked at her,” she finally said, her voice so quiet I had to strain to make out the words.

“The way I looked at her?”

“You’veneverlooked at me like that.”

“You’re jealous,” I said.

“Of course I’m fucking jealous, Cole! You look at that woman like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You didn’t even look at me like that when you asked me to marry you.”

“Oh, please.” I turned away from the truth she flung at me and stomped to the kitchen. I cracked open a bottle of water and wished for something stronger.

“Am I wrong?”

I turned to see her in the entrance of the kitchen, arms crossed, leaning against the far cabinets. Sipping some water to buy myself time, I mulled over her question. There was only one answer I could give her. One answer that made sense to me, because I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d never cheat on her.

My word meant everything to me. I didn’t make vows easily, and I valued loyalty above everything.

So I said, “Yes, Alba. You’re wrong. I’m marryingyou.”

The words hung between us, and in the far recesses of my mind, I wondered why they felt like a lie.

Alba’s shoulders crumpled, and I crossed the distance between us to take her in my arms. She rested her head on my shoulder as tears wetted the side of my neck. Her breaths shuddered through her, and all I could do was run my hands up and down her back to try to contain the storm.

I was a piece of shit. Maybe I’d deserved to be given away by my parents when I was born. Maybe the very core of me was rotten, and they could tell. That’s why my adoptive family treated me like I’d never be as good as their biological kids. That’s why I’d always chased my career, why I’d told myself that I cared about loyalty and fidelity.

I was trying to hide who I really was. My loyalty was a thin, brittle veneer covering a black heart.

My word—the vows I’d already made to her—was a lie. My loyalty was hollow. Because as I held my crying fiancée, I realized that the woman I wanted in my arms was on the other side of the resort.

Alba pulled away, her eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t do this, Cole,” she whispered.

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