Page 80 of Beyond Question

A quick glance toward the foyer and—

Yep, even Cabot’s armed guard watches me with an amused look on his otherwise stoic face.

“For fuck’s sake, Wilder,” Cabot barks, “take a seat.”

I shoot him a glare. Easy for him to say; he’s only fucked around withonewoman in this room. She’s curled up between his legs on the chaise, tucked under a blanket, and looking at me with sympathy and a hint of amusement in her big brown eyes.

Setting my coffee mug on the breakfast bar, I close my eyes and shake my head, then drag a hand through my hair. “I don’t know where to sit,” I mumble.

“Oh my god,” Bronte says, “it’s me, isn’t it?’

I open my eyes as she stands.

“Come sit by my mom, Travis, good grief.”

“This is weird, right?” I wince, then motion between the three of us.

“No, you’remakingit weird.” Bronte huffs as she grabs a chair and pulls it close to her mom’s corner of the couch. She motions to the place she just vacated. “Sit, Travis. Please.”

I look at Paige, who gives me a soft smile, then a quick nod of her head, and I’ve never moved so quickly in my life. I plop down beside her, then pull her against me and kiss her temple, exhaling a deep breath when the tension in my muscles starts to dissipate now that she’s beside me—and her body settles against mine like it’s always been meant to be there.

“Well, I think we’ve delayed the inevitable long enough,” Cabot says. “I’ve done some digging.”

“Wait,” Paige says, then clears her throat. “I have to tell Bronte… everything.” She looks up at me, searching my face, then whispers, “And Travis.”

I nod, squeezing her shoulder. I hope she can see in my eyes that I’m not going anywhere.

We both look at Cabot, who inclines his head, then Paige turns a bit toward Bronte. Her body tenses and I rub hershoulder, then she takes a deep breath, exhaling long and slow. “Baby,” she begins, and I glance past her to watch Bronte’s face as Paige gathers her resolve.

Bronte’s brows are drawn down as she waits.

You could hear a pin drop in this place.

Then Paige’s shoulders rise and fall on a heavy intake of air, and she says, “My name isn’t Paige Matthews.”

My eyes widen and I glance at Cabot, who ignores me even though I know he wants to give me thatI told you solook, then I turn back to look at Bronte, whose eyes must look like mine.

Saucers.

“My name is Josephine Burton.”

Josephine,I mouth, testing the name on my tongue. But it doesn’t feel right; it’s not her.

“And I’m originally from London.”

London?It’s crazy how there’s not even a hint of an accent when she speaks.

“You have no accent,” I say, unable to keep my thoughts inside my head.

“No.” Paige shakes her head but doesn’t turn to look at me. I’m here, and she’s telling me her story, but this revelation is for Bronte. “I worked very hard to shed that part of me. When I could afford to do so, I paid for additional help.”

Jesus.

Bronte nods, eyes still wide as she waits for more.

I run my hand down Paige’s back, trying to reassure her.

“When I was young…” Her words trail off and she turns her head. I follow her gaze to Cabot and Rylan, who nods, then Paige returns her attention to Bronte, and she continues, “My father was a monster.”

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