Page 76 of The Confidentiality Clause
I wish I could go home. But if I do, Houston will think he had an effect on me. I’ll be seen as even weaker than before. So here I sit, using every ounce of my strength to keep my composure. I let my gaze float around the ballroom. Tables line the walls, while a large opening is left in the center for dancing. Maybe there’s an open seat at a different table. I could switch while they’re bringing out the dessert course and everyone is distracted.
A door opening on the opposite side of the room catches my attention. My heart leaps to my throat. Brock stumbles in, wearing a rumpled suit with his tie hanging loose around his neck. I stand and our eyes lock. He smiles. I do not.
“Is that him? He made it after all!” Bethanne cheers.
I don’t respond or even spare a glance at Houston. I storm across the venue floor over to Brock. His eyes widen when he sees the look on my face.
“I know I’m late–” he starts.
“Don’t,” I hiss and shove his chest until he runs into the door. He lets me push him out into the hallway. The door closes behind us with a slam.
“I’m sorry, things took longer than I thought, but I realized I wanted to be here more,” he says, still wearing a smile.
“I told you how important this wasweeksago,” I say, and his face crumples at my hurt. “I shared the way Houston made mefeel. You saw for yourself the type of guy he was, and you left me here to fend for myselfalone. And for what? So you could get another deal?”
“I’m sorry, I should have been here on time. But I’m here now. We can go back in there and I’ll make a big show of apologizing. Whatever you want.”
He pushes a shaky hand through his messy hair. When he does, I notice a pink mark on his cheek. I step to where we’re almost touching and grab his chin. A kiss mark. My anger becomes an inferno.
“What are you doing?” he stutters out.
“Is this lipstick?” I ask, venom coating my voice. “Were you out with someone? Is that why you were late?”
“No.” He scrubs at the side of his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “No, this woman kissed my cheek at the party and I almost vomited.” He wipes the mark off. “I didn’t know that was there.”
I let go of his chin. Our eyes lock, and I let every emotion come to the surface. The fire, the hurt, my feelings for him, all of it. I don’t hold back a single thing.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why do you care if it’s true or not?” he throws back.
I grip the lapels of his jacket and glare at him. “You don’t get to ask me that. Not after you made me think you weren’t coming. I had to sit there and tell person after person you were running late. Do you know how pathetic I sounded?”
His gaze softens. “I really am sorry, Ariel. I shouldn’t have been at that party at all. I know that now. I should have come home from LA as soon as the issue was solved.” He closes his eyes. Anguish twists his features. “My life lately has felt like a running list of things I should have done.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I wanted you to be here. Why didn’t you at least warn me?”
He grimaces. “Because I’m an idiot who left his phone in New York. I wanted to go back and get it, but by the time I realized I didn’t have it, I knew that I’d miss the whole event if I tried.”
I let go of his jacket and cross my arms. “Do you expect me to believe you left your phone somewhere? You, who can’t go anywhere without it?”
“That’s not fair. I’ve changed,” he says.
“You told me before you left that you hadn’t!” I raise my voice.
“Well, I lied!” He matches my volume. “I lied because I was upset and scared that I lost all that I’ve been working for since college.”
“And then what? You jetted off to LA and New York and partied and flirted with other women until it just dawned on you that you’d rather be here?” I shake my head. “I’m not buying it.”
“No, I worked myself to death in LA and went to New York for a deal that could change my career. It was right within my grasp.” He holds his palm up in between us. “And then I thought ofyou. Of the way you look when you first wake up and how you smile when you insult me. I thought of everything you said about what legacy I was leaving behind.” He closes his hand into a fist and drops it to his side. “And I left.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I hug my arms tight around myself to keep it together. If I let go, I’m not sure yet if I’ll hug him or slap him.
“I want to believe you,” I whisper.
“I don’t think you do,” he says.
My head rears back. This man has a tendency to say things that warrant a stiletto to the shin. “Excuse me?”
