Page 67 of The Billionaire's Secret
I shuffle my feet, "Guess not. I mean when I saw the two of you at the wedding, the tension between the two of you was palpable. But then you both seemed to have worked things out."
"We did." She chuckles. "It wasn't easy."
"I'm sure."
"I was lucky I had the support of these wonderful women." She looks around at the group. "It's tough doing this on your own. You haven't had it easy, V."
Tell me about it.
"I want to extend our support to you... If you'll take it." She touches my shoulder.
"We’d love to help you." Amelie takes my hand.
"You bet," Isla adds.
"We have a vested interest in this. There can be no better woman than you to deliver Saint his comeuppance," Meredith says.
A lump of emotion blocks my throat.Tell them, tell them everything. Come clean. This could be your last chance.
It’ll put your life in danger.
It could save Saint from ruin.
I open my mouth, but I’m stopped by a familiar voice, "Why, Victoria, what a surprise to see you here."
I turn. My face pales. "You?" I swallow down the bile that laces my throat.
The tall man comes to a stop on the other side of the group. His gaze bores into me, in his eyes a warning.
"Who’re you?" Amelie glowers at him.
He tilts his head, "Hello Tory." He smiles.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.My vision narrows, the band around my chest tightening. This can’t be happening. Not here, not now. Not when I had been so close to finding a way out.
I shake my head, try to speak, but the words die.
"Victoria, you okay?" Summer whispers.
Meredith glances at the man, then back at me. My breathing catches while my hands and legs seem to grow numb. I can’t move, can’t say anything.
Can’t do anything but watch as she rises to her feet. "You must be a friend of Victoria's..."
"Indeed." Antonio's smile widens. "You don’t mind if I borrow her for a second do you?"
17
Look in my face, I am somebody; Look at my back, I am nobody. What am I?
Answer: A mirror
Saint
"Hit me, motherfucker." I swing with my gloved fist. Arpad ducks. I stumble. Straighten, then pivot and rush toward him. He sidesteps me. I rush forward, slamming into the ropes that demarcate the boxing ring. Using the elasticity to brace myself, I turn, shake my head.
"Wanker," I growl.
Arpad snickers. "Speak for yourself."
