Her chin-length, dark brown hair was wind tossed. Skinny red cotton pants showed under her quilted winter coat. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, Darius. Is Peyton around?”
“Why are you asking?” His gut told him he wouldn’t like the answer to his question.
“Oh, I’m not asking for myself.” Ginny gestured toward the stranger behind her. “I’m asking for my new best friend, Bruce Grave.”
Behind him, Peyton gasped. The sound was barely audible. But even with his back to her, Darius was in tune with her every movement.
His spine stiffened. He lifted his gaze to the stranger. “Who are you?”
“I’m Peyton’s fiancé.” His voice was taunting. His dark eyes gleamed with contempt.
Darius’s gut had been right. Dammit. His world was shifting around him. The heart he was still getting used to pounded in his chest as though looking for a way out. He turned to Peyton.
“You have a visitor.” His voice sounded strange in his ears. He stepped away from the door, inviting Peyton to join them.
She came forward with stiff, jerky steps as though she wasn’t certain she wanted to move. She stopped beside him and pulled the door wider. Peyton ignored Ginny’s smug expression and addressed only the man who’d called himself her fiancé. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be the one asking you that.” The stranger’s voice was pitch-perfect outrage.
What the hell is going on? Darius fisted his hands, anxious to find out.
In her peripheral vision, Peyton noticed Ginny standing back as though inviting her to take center stage. Her shock wore off as her muscles warmed beneath her temper.
“You have no right to ask me anything.” Peyton turned to Darius. She saw the hurt, confusion, and anger in his midnight eyes. It broke her heart. “He’s not my fiancé.”
“Then who is he?” Darius’s words were cold.
Bruce looked to Darius. “Has she told you about me?”
“Why should I even mention you to him?” Peyton answered before Darius could. “You have nothing to do with us, so what are you doing here?”
“I came to talk some sense into you.” Bruce gave Darius a scathing look. “I hadn’t realized you’d shacked up with a local.”
Peyton sensed Darius’s anger stirring. Bruce’s comment pricked her temper, too. “There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear, so please leave.”
Peyton shrugged deeper into her black-and-silver TFU sweatshirt. The cold wind had penetrated the material. Her toes were curled, seeking warmth inside her slippers. But there was no way she was letting Ginny or Bruce into Darius’s apartment.
“Our engagement isn’t over.” Bruce pushed his hands into the pockets of his black cashmere winter coat. “I can overlook your infidelity.”
“Our engagement is over because I can’t overlook yours.” Peyton a
rched a brow. “How’s Leila?”
“She’s fine.” Bruce met and held her gaze. “She sends her best.”
“How nice of her.” Peyton crossed her arms. “Does she still give good head?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Bruce’s fair skin darkened under a blush. “I don’t understand why you’re jealous of Leila. You have no reason to be.”
Peyton settled her hands on her hips. “She’s welcome to you.”
“Why are you saying this?” Bruce pulled his hands from his pockets and spread his arms. “From the moment I met you, I’ve been faithful to you. I’m still in love with you, Peyton. I want you to be my wife.”
Peyton wanted to spit. Bruce was playing to his audience. She was too afraid to look at Darius. Was he buying this? “You never loved me, Bruce. You were in love with the idea of marrying a partner’s daughter just to further your career.”
Ginny sighed, long and audibly. “Oh, give him another chance. The guy’s in love with you. And you’re perfect for each other. You’re both rich New Yorkers, unlike us dumb, dirt-poor locals.” She sent a glare in Bruce’s direction.
Peyton turned to Ginny. “I know you were hoping that introducing Bruce as my fiancé would come between Darius and me. But Bruce and I are never getting married. I returned his ring. And since Darius has a restraining order against you, I don’t see the two of you getting together, either.”