Page 85 of Savage Suit
“Ryan?” Quinn called, a combination of shock and concern on her face. She rushed toward me. Reid met her at the rope that had separated us from the reporters. Once he allowed her entry, she rushed to me. “Ryan?” she said in a teary voice, taking my face between her hands. “Don’t faint. You’re so pale—”
“Ryan?” Noah called.
I blinked at him, unable to process the concern I heard in his voice or the stone-cold fury on his face. My eyes felt wet, but no tears fell.
“You’re Quinn?” Ingrid Warrington’s voice bounced in my head. “The one who whored herself out to Reid Keegan so Ryan could get the job? Excuse me, the one who slept with Noah and Reid months ago at a party.”
“What?” I squeaked, somehow as horrified by that prospect as I was by my parents’…
A sob escaped me; around me, chaos erupted. Noah roaring words. Men yelling. Crashes and curses.
“Let go of me, Reid!” Quinn shouted.
“No. She will charge you with assault.”
“Good, because I intend to fuck her up,” she growled, and the hot mic caught her words.
“Shut up,” Reid snapped.
“You have two fucking seconds to get that bitch out of here, or you’re going to be sweeping pieces of her from every surface in this place after I drag her from one end of the building to the next, beating her ass.”
“Lay a hand on me. Show the world what thugs you are,” Ingrid shouted.
“Oomph!” Reid grunted.
My sister flew past me in a blur of motion, mobilizing me like nothing else could.
“No! Stop!” My yell slowed Quinn down a fraction. Her barreling to destruction was like a bucket of freezing water. Ingrid’s claim Quinn slept with Noah didn’t matter. I stumbled forward. “Stop, Quinn,” I ordered as my phone rang. “Stop.”
She skidded to a halt. The moment she turned to me, the fight left her, and her lips trembled.
The day we buried our parents was the only other time I’d seen such devastation on my sister’s face. I shuddered, wanting to cry and fall apart. My sister needed me, though. The reminder soothed me. Calmness came over me, allowing me to tuck away my pain.
Lifting my head high, I walked to Quinn and wrapped my arms around her. “It’s okay, baby,” I whispered.
“That’s why he said I couldn’t go,” she sobbed. “If I’d insisted on going, would I be with them, away from all the grief?”
“We don’t have proof about her claim,” I told her.
“You know they’re true and so do I. He had been so unhappy for so long.”
“Quinn—”
“No, Ryan. You know it’s true.”
“I don’t,” I said fiercely. Because I didn’t.
She yanked herself out of my arms. “Take your fucking rose-colored glasses off. Face reality. Your martyrdom is just an excuse to convince yourself you were doing what Mama and Daddy wanted. You don’t want to believe what that woman said, because then you’ll have to admit the same fate awaits you. He gave up his dreams because Mama ended up pregnant.”
“I haven’t given up my dreams!”
“Dreams?” she screeched. “For yourself? You’re scared to live. You’re nothing but a fucking bore. Worried about your past comportment. Worried about your present behavior. You’re miserable!”
This was spiraling so fucking far out of control, but I didn’t know how to stop it and refused to dignify her charges with a response. “I have the degree I always dreamed of and a job at one of the most prestigious companies in the world.”
“You’ve given up,” she insisted in a teary voice. “You have no spontaneity. No gaiety. Everything is about me and Logan—”
“Excuse me for caring,” I said sarcastically.
