Liar Liar

‘Wait.’ His fingers curl around my forearm and I find myself staring at them. ‘Remy Durrand is not a good man. Maybe you haven’t found that out yet, but you will.’

‘You’re mistaken if you think I need some kind of protection. Remy would never hurt me.’

‘No,’ intones a deep and familiar vice, ‘but he would hurt the man who’s touching you.’

I try not to turn, to look at Remy, but the pull him is too great. It’s unfair that anger looks so good on him, his eyes the colour of stormy seas. Meanwhile, my twelve-hour lipstick is likely long gone and the tears I’ve tidied with the napkin have probably ruined my smoky eye.

‘Well, if it isn’t the cunt of Monte-Cristo.’

My head whips to the amiable man I’ve spent the last thirty minutes with. His fingers tighten on my arm, the sudden venom in his tone a shock to me.

‘I’d say it’s good to see you but we’d both know I’d be lying, Durrand.’

‘Let go of her, Hayes.’ Remy’s command is so cold I think it might’ve been less frightening if he’d actually yelled.

‘Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I’m tired of having things taken away from me.’

‘This isn’t business, Hayes. If you have something to say to me about business, you should make an appointment. Not lay your hands on the woman I love.’

‘Hear that, sweetheart. The man with no heart says he loves.’ Sliding from his stool, he brings his mouth to my ear. ‘The man is a fraud, just like the watch he wears. You can’t trust a thing he says.’

‘Let go of me, Carson. We were just having a drink.’ I’m not sure who needs to hear this; the man who has my arm or the man staring daggers at him.

‘You have my card,’ Carson murmurs. His grip relaxes but doesn’t immediately release me. ‘If you need me, I’m only a call away.’

‘She won’t be needing you.’ Remy’s declaration is filled with menace as I take a step towards him. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Hayes,’ he adds as I brush past him without the slightest intention of being the bone these two dogs are baying for.

‘What the fuck was that all about?’ One grip is exchanged for another, Remy’s question a low growl in my ear.

‘What does it matter?’ I retort, trying to pull away. After the drama, my heart is now smarting. I dash the back of my hand against my cheeks, reluctant to let him see the manifestation of my anger.

‘Rose, what is it? Did he hurt you?’

‘Him?’ His head jerks back at my tone, almost as though I’d dealt him a slap. ‘Carson Hayes hasn’t hurt me. You, however . . .’ My gaze rakes over every painfully beautiful inch of him.

‘What on are you talking about?’ This isn’t an appeal for information, more a deflection. A swerve. ‘One minute you were dancing with Rhett, the next you were gone. How the fuck do you know him?’

‘He was in the store when I got your watch fixed. Not that it’s any of your business.’ I steeple my hands over my nose, the tips of my fingers at the very corner of my eyes, blotting those building tears. ‘I helped him choose a watch for his grandmother’s birthday.’

‘Carson Hayes doesn’t have a grandmother,’ he growls again. ‘His grandfather has a succession of women in his life younger than his grandson.’

‘How very Riviera,’ I snipe. One walk along any marina on the Côte d’Azure and you’ll see rich old men surrounded by a bevy of beautiful and much younger women.

‘And you just happened to see him in the store, but you didn’t think to mention it to me?’

‘Why would I mention it? I mean, it’s not like I had a fiancée hiding somewhere, is it?’ I retort, using the same tone. ‘You don’t get to make me feel like shit, Remy Durrand. Not when I was doing something nice for you. I’m not the one who owns liar pants.’

‘What?’ His brows draw down over angry green eyes. ‘Why weren’t you there for the speeches?’

‘The speeches? Or your speech? Urgh!’ My feet start to move again to put distance between me and this situation. Me and this fuck up.

What’s the big deal?

Like I speak French!

I don’t get far as he spins me around, pressing me against a nearby door, my palms flat against the wood.

‘Listen to me, I don’t care about the speech. I just want you to tell me what this is about?’

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but while I know you like an audience, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen enough of you today.’ I snatch my hands away, sliding out between his body and the doorframe. I’m so angry right now, I can’t even think. I need a moment alone to process how best to approach this fucking text.