Page 1 of Tangled Kisses
Chapter One
Reese
He is not worth the murder charge. Breathe in. Breathe out. Try not to kill the man.
If only it were that easy.
From a distance, it looks like idle chatter—my fiancé and some slim redhead. But I know his tells: a grasp of the wrist as he drags his fingers down to press her palm, bent head as he leans in, murmuring some wildly amusing anecdote in her ear.
I know, because he used them all on me. And like the idiotic twit that I am, I fell for them—and for him.
Trust me, I always had my suspicions. I’m not naive. Vander Hale has an insatiable appetite for beauty—and a fiancée doesn’t curb his hunger.
“Miss? Which do you prefer? The Winterberry or the Spring Ivy pattern?” The salesgirl’s chipper voice scrapes across my nerves.
I cut my gaze to her, forcing a smile as I suck in a sharp breath through my nose. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it?”
“Personal preference is always important.”
A humorless laugh slips out. “Here’s my question—do either of these patterns scream lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch to you?”
The color drains from her face as she shifts nervously. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me. And you know exactly who I’m referring to. So, I’ll ask again—” I tilt the plate in my hand, weighing it like a weapon “—which of these seems more appropriate for a philandering lech?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean?—”
I release a sharp grunt and jab the plate through the air, pointing toward Vander and his flavor of the week. “Stop with the innocent act. He’s standing right over there, flirting with one of your co-workers. Do you need me to move closer to point them out?”
Her knuckles blanch around her clipboard. “I know who you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do,” I mutter, my mouth twisting into a smile that belies the rage swirling in my chest. “And this isn’t the first time you’ve seen them together, is it?”
“Miss, it’s not my place?—”
“Oh, but it is. Because I’m the foolish sap prepared to marry him. Along with spending an obscene amount of money on this overpriced crap.” I rest my elbows on the counter, flashing her a sickly-sweet grin. “Since you don’t have a style preference, maybe you’ve got an opinion about durability?”
Her brow creases. “It’s a plate. They’re both made of bone china.”
“But if I hurl this five-hundred-dollar plate hard enough, will it knock my fiancé’s head clean off his shoulders or just maim the adulterous bastard?”
She leans closer, her voice low. “It happens all the time.”
Drumming my fingers against the glass, I click my tongue. “Meaning adultery or my fiancé screwing the cute salesgirls?”
Her gaze flickers—just for a second—toward Vander. It’s all I need.
Not guilt. Not shock. Just pity.
The kind reserved for the poor fiancée who’s always the last to know.
My chest hollows out. Of course, she knows. Theyallknow. Beautiful little salesgirls in luxury department stores are his playground. And me? I’m the idiot picking out china patterns while half the staff can swap stories about how my fiancé fucks.
Her mouth parts, and I catch the flicker of something soft in her gaze.
I straighten, pacing a slow line in front of the counter.
I’m a good girl. The calm one. The one who keeps her shit together no matter what. That’s me. But that ends now.
