Page 123 of A Convenient Secret
“Don’t worry about it, Seagull.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s go back and try to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
He leads me back to the atrium, his hand on the small of my back. Until he drops it when we join the mingling crowd. I want him to keep it there. And he made it clear he wants to keep it there, but I stopped him.
I stopped him, because I wasn’t brave enough to tell him my story earlier.
Tonight.
The determination grows strong inside me suddenly. I don’t want to hide anymore.
That thought thrills and scares me, but the courage floods my veins.
Tonight.
I will bury Lily Thorne, or the hidden parts of me.
Tonight.
The atrium hums with polite chatter as parents mingle. I stay close to Declan as we find the twins and Saar.
“Yes, Zoya, you were exceptionally good on that stage.” Despite his words, Zach looks unimpressed.
“Try to kill her with kindness, little dude.” Saar ruffles his hair. “Ah, here you are.” She turns to us.
“Thank you for staying with them,” Declan says, looking equally unimpressed at his son.
Is he kinder to me only? I spent so much time with him alone that I forgot about the aloof, grumpy version of him. It became only one layer of this man for me.
I guess that one is still available to the rest of the world. For some reason, it makes me grin.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to dash now.” She turns to Zoya. “You stole the show, girl.”
As soon as she leaves, the twins go to get a juice refill. Someone approaches Declan, who steps closer to me while he engages in a polite conversation.
My eyes roam the room, and I feel the weight ofjudgment. People are staring at me. Or at Declan. Or at us. Do people read the trashy pages?
Declan concludes his conversation and turns to me. “Ready to leave?”
A tall, perfectly put-together woman approaches, blond hair swept into a sleek chignon, a designer clutch tucked beneath one arm.
“Declan.” The voice is smooth, practiced, and edged with just enough artificial sweetness to set my teeth on edge.
She places a manicured hand lightly on Declan’s forearm as if she has every right to touch him.
I don’t like her. Acid coils in my stomach, my gaze glued to those sharp, red nails.
Declan’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, his posture stiff but polite. “Margot.”
She smiles or purses her lips; I’m not sure which. She gives me the briefest once-over before she dismisses my existence entirely.
“I was hoping I’d see you here.” She juts her chin forward like she is taking a selfie. “I have a box at the Met tomorrow night. I thought you might enjoy the performance. Just us, of course.”
Declan inhales sharply through his nose. “I’m afraid I have plans.”
She leans closer. “Cancel them,” she purrs.
He doesn’t even blink. “No.”
I suppress a smirk.
