Amanda gaped.
“What the fuck do you mean you can’t marry me?” she demanded, voice shrill. So much for nice.
Her sister, who had been adjusting the veil when I walked in, stared at us, then grabbed her purse. “I’ll leave you two alone,” came a low mutter before the door slammed shut.
Taking a deep breath, I turned back to my bride. Or ex-bride.
“Just what I said, Amanda. I can’t go through with this wedding. It would be a lie, and I’m all kinds of asshole but I’m no liar.”
Those green cat eyes narrowed at me.
“Jake, we agreed to go through with this,” she spat. “You told me that things were good.”
My head shook slowly.
“I was lying,” came my brutal answer. “It was all lies.”
Hey, I never said I was a nice guy. The opposite, even during our supposed “magical day.”
And the woman looked like I’d punched her in the face. Shock. Anger. Embarrassment. All these emotions flashed across her face like someone changing the channels on a TV screen.
“Do you know what they’ll say about me out there?” she hissed angrily. “Fuck you, Jake Mason. I’ll be the goddamn laughingstock of New York.” With a violent motion, she ripped the veil off her head and threw it on the floor.
But that was none of my concern.
“No worries, I’m sure you’ll live,” was my smooth rumble. “You’ve survived worse. Let’s just cut our losses and go our separate ways.”
But that only made her angrier.
“You obviously don’t give a shit about me, otherwise you wouldn’t be doing this. Not right now.”
That was certainly true, but there was no sense in pouring salt in the wound. So my expression stayed neutral, words mild.
“I should have called this off a while ago, Amanda. Let’s just leave it at that.”
And tears started to fall from her face, big, ugly ones dripping through her black mascara.
“Jake don’t do this to me,” she pleaded. “You’ll ruin my reputation in this town. They’ll think I’m a bad bet.”
Shit, was she thinking about business? At a time like this, too? But hell, that’s what made her a good business partner, if not exactly a good wife.
“Listen, this can’t just be about business,” I said impatiently. “I’ve changed my mind.”
And those green eyes narrowed behind her streaked mascara.
“Is there someone else?” she demanded. “Is that the reason you’ve been different? Is there someone else?”
The blonde put her hands on her hips and aggressively stepped into my space. Her smeared make-up made her look real scary, like a ghoul with black streaks on her face.
But I didn’t back away. Instead, I told the truth.
“Yes,” the word dropped from my lips. “There’s someone else.”
And in that instant, the burden lifted. My shoulders lightened, my head immediately clear, like it was going to levitate. Because shit, there was absolutely someone else, and that special someone happened to be her daughter. All this misery? Not worth it. My business? Fuck, I’d find another way. I’ve been running this corporation for twenty years, I have enough connections on my own. That much was obvious, because nothing was worth this.
But Amanda flew into a fury then, beating at my chest, screaming like a dying hyena.
“Fuck you!” she screamed, pulling at my hair, trying to scratch and bite. “Fuck you, Jake Mason, fuck you to hell and back. I’m gonna squeeze your balls and hang ‘em out to dry! You’ll pay for this!”
Huh. The real Amanda was out now, the harpy with no filter. But she couldn’t intimidate me. Effortlessly, I pulled her hands behind her back and pushed her onto the couch.
“See ya,” was my bland reply. “I got better things to do.”
And it was the truth. Because my best girl was out there, and there were reparations to be made. I only hoped I wasn’t too late because what if there was no going back? What if Lacey wanted nothing to do with me now? What if she couldn’t forgive or forget? I’d be screwed then … and left with nothing but my sins.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lacey
I was cold. Shivering.
The room they had me in felt like it was all glass, one wall completely mirrored. But I couldn’t see anyone. Machines beeped next to a folded white towel with electrodes on it. I knew they were going to put them on me. They said the electricity would rip through my body, burning my brain, setting things on fire.
That sounded bad.
But it was supposed to make me feel better afterwards, to restore my judgment and clear things up. So I sat and waited for the doctor to return.
Shivering, my teeth chattered.
Goosebumps rose on my arms and thighs.
Where was everyone? Was there radiation in here, so it wasn’t safe for others to come in?
Suddenly, there was a rattling noise and raised voices sounded through one of the glass walls.
“You can’t go in there!” one of the male nurses shouted, burly and huge. I hated Lester. Sometimes he threw my food on the floor, just to see me pick it up before eating. Isn’t that cruel and unusual? Can guards do that?