Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1)

I had to close my eyes to even try to process the wealth of information she announced. But one word made its way to the forefront of my mind: engagement.

If I thought I was angry before, it didn’t come close to the rage at thinking of her with someone else.

“Were you seeing someone when we slept together?”

“No.” She shook her head hard, her hair whipping back and forth. But then she shrugged and tipped her head. “Well, not really. It’s kind of arranged.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“Right? But it is what it is.” Her energy fell away, and her humor vanished, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “I thought it would be fine, like my parents’ marriage. I thought it would work out. At least until he showed up and was a giant dick.”

She pushed her hair back and finally looked directly at me for the first time. Standing so close, I could see a red discoloring on one side of her cheek, and fury ignited inside me. I stepped forward, like I was readying for battle. “Did he hit you?” I asked, dangerously soft.

She touched her cheek before quickly dropping her hand and rolling her eyes. “Not like you’d care.”

“I do not condone abusing women.”

“Well, it wasn’t him.” Another shrug like she wanted to pretend it wasn’t a big deal when the reality was too much to bear. “My father didn’t take it well when I said I wouldn’t marry Camden. He took it even worse when I threw my dead mother’s disappointment in his face.”

Another barrage of information, and I fumbled to process it all. But her struggle to hide her pain pushed all of it aside.

“Verana…”

“My future husband assaulted me, and my father still wants me to marry him. Seems about par for the day.”

Finally, the first tear fell, only to be quickly wiped away. Instead of freezing like I had before, a sharp pinch pierced my chest, and I had to force myself to stand still, despite wanting to comfort her.

“What do you mean, assaulted?”

“Nothing.” She took another swig of her champagne and plopped it down on the desk with a loud thud, turning back to packing up her belongings. “By the way,” she said over her shoulder. “My real last name is Mariano. I used my grandmother’s maiden name to get the job since my father forbade me from working, you know, because of the future engagement and all that. He said he’d blacklist me, so I worked around him.”

Thankfully, she had her back to me, missing the information hitting me so hard, I stumbled back a few steps.

Mariano.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Holy shit.

She was Verana Mariano.

Lorenzo Mariano’s daughter.

Under my nose this whole time.

Of everything that came pouring out tonight in this small cubby, this almost brought me to my knees. She’d been hiding something, all right. She’d been lying this whole time. I just hadn’t been looking in the right place. No wonder she knew so much about shipping. She’d grown up in it.

My mind whirled with thoughts and ideas like a computer screen with windows opening and closing as I considered and rejected ideas. Missing out the stocks factored into each one, and the hope that vanished earlier slowly seeped back in. One idea piqued my interest, but I needed more information before shutting it down.

“So, let me get this straight,” I said in the strongest voice I could form around my shock. “Your father wants you to marry Camden Conti, his new CFO. And you don’t want to. And you used a fake name—”

“My grandmother’s name. Not fake.”

“You used a name that isn’t legally yours so you could find a job in the shipping industry without Lorenzo blocking you?”

She stopped but didn’t turn. “Yup. Sums it up. Lucky me.”

“Why here?”

At this, she did turn and gave me the full force of her dark eyes and delicate lips. “K. Rush Shipping is less known. Recently brought to the forefront of the industry and acquiring companies to grow—like Pacman,” she said with a giggle—even adding the chomping motions—before sobering to continue. “You’re on the cusp of being huge, and I wanted to be a part of it. Also, you had very little interaction with Mariano Shipping, so I assumed you’d be less likely to figure me out.”

My chest puffed with pride at her analysis of my company. She had no idea about the full history of the company. She didn’t know what the K signified. I’d worked hard to hide it in plain sight. But the future she laid out was all true and all because of me.

I watched her, the giggly, frantic energy from before gone, leaving a tired girl in its place. Defeat clung to her, and she wore it uncomfortably. I didn’t blame her. From the small time I’d known her, Verana Bar—Mariano, wore her strength like an armor. She stood tall with her back ramrod straight as if daring anyone to doubt her. Her pearls, cardigans, and sweet smiles presented a kind woman, following the rules, but somehow, with me, I saw the fiery determination beneath. She may follow the rules to a t, but she didn’t want to.