Page 2 of Tangled Kisses
I stop and flick my fingers in a small circle toward her face, baring my teeth in a smile. “That look—what is it? Sympathy? Some girl’s girl solidarity because fucking another woman’s man is wrong. Or is it terror, because you’re standing in front of the fiancée of the man you fucked?”
Her face flames, and she takes a step back, unable to meet my eyes.
Bingo.
“You’re an even worse liar than you are a salesgirl, and that is saying something.” I grind my teeth as five years of fury threatens to explode out of me.
Years of pretending I didn’t notice the lipstick on his collar or the hint of perfume that clung to him after a night out with the boys.
Years of swallowing the humiliation every time I walked into his country club and caught the admiring glances that followed him as he strolled by in a custom-made suit and a vintage $50,000 Rolex. A striking man with the pedigree and portfolio to open every door.
When you possess the money and power of the Hale family, you needn’t ask permissionorforgiveness.
Silly me, I thought love mattered, but in high society, it’s secondary at best.
And so am I, it seems.
I lean in, my voice dropping to a purr sharp enough to cut glass. “I hope you had a better time in bed with him than I ever did. Unless, of course, you enjoy being rutted from behind—his favorite move. That one’s a classic.”
Her face twists, betraying a flicker of recognition.
I let out a brittle laugh, shoving a hand through my hair as if I could scrub the fury out of my scalp. “Oh yes, you know that one well, don’t you?”
The salesgirl swallows hard, eyes darting nervously to the nearest customers. “Miss, please—keep your voice down. You’re attracting attention.”
I cross my arms, tapping my foot against the tile in quick, sharp beats. “Forgive me. I would never want to embarrass you.” My hand flicks toward her, cutting the air like punctuation. “Though I imagine it’s far more embarrassing to be outed as one of his many flings. I wonder what your boss will have to say about it. Or is fucking your VIP clientele considered standard for your position?”
Her terrified whimper carries across the showroom, and Vander’s head snaps up, his gaze cutting toward me.
I have only a few moments before he strides over and takes control of the situation.
Mere seconds to determine the course of my life.
One path keeps me on the straight and narrow, marrying into one of the wealthiest families on Long Island, complete with a Hamptons summer home and glitzy parties in the city.
The other path burns it all down.
So many choices, so little time.
I grip a dish in each hand. My pulse races, but my smile never falters.
“Let’s see what these bad boys are made of. At five hundred apiece, you’d expect durability,” I murmur, lifting the plates.
Then I give the plates a shake and cut my gaze to the sharp corner of the glass counter.
The pretty little salesgirl’s eyes widen. “Miss, don’t?—”
Too late.
The Winterberry shatters against the counter in a glorious crash, shards spraying like confetti. Shocked whispers ripple through the showroom.
Vander is on the move. Who knew it was so easy to disturb his latest mating ritual?
But I’m nowhere near done.
“Hmm, clearly crap.” My tone is cool, controlled, even as adrenaline races through me. “Let’s give Spring Ivy a go, shall we?”
Before the salesgirl can move, I smash the second plate down. It splinters at my feet, bone china reduced to bone dust.
