Page 58 of The Temporary Fiancée
Stiffly, I follow him out of the car. To my muted relief, there’s no crowd of paparazzi waiting to ambush us as we walk into the lobby; Reed seems pleasantly surprised as well.
He gives my hand a squeeze, and I look up at him with the best fake smile I can muster.
“Story hasn’t breached containment yet,” he tells me in an undertone. “Next time we come downstairs, I’d expect it to be different.”
No kidding.The story will hit the magazines within the next few days, and then nothing will be the same.
Already, I can see a camera pointed our way—there’s a man at the end of the block, pretending to be nonchalant. I wonder if Reed notices him, too.
He must, because he leans down to kiss the top of my head as we step through the open glass doors. I turn my face away from the photographer, hiding my expression from the camera lens.
“Did you have a good lunch, Mr. Eastwood?”
It’s Henry, the doorman. He’s grinning from ear-to-ear, expectant.
“The best,” Reed replies cheerfully.
Henry’s eyes twinkle. “So did you pop the question?”
Reed nods, and I have to marshal my expression into an even-keeled smile.EvenHenryknew before I did? Are you kidding me?
Just in case my unhappiness is too obvious, I hold up my hand, splaying out my fingers to show off the glittering ring. The ring I haven’t even gotten a chance to look at.
“Good for you!” Henry exclaims. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Henry,” says Reed graciously.
The elevator arrives, and Reed gives Henry a wave as we step inside. The moment the doors close behind us, we’re alone—but still silent.
Reed carries himself with a quiet ease, but I can tell he notices something’s up. Now that I’m confident there are no cameras trained on me, I don’t bother to keep up the pretense of the smile. I’ve been tense and uncomfortable since the moment the ring appeared, and he seems all too aware of that fact.
Good. He should be.
Only once the elevator doors trundle shut behind us does he turn to me, his expression serious.
“Okay. We’re alone. What’s up?”
I could tell him, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I shake my head and try to brush past him, heading for my room. It might clear my thoughts if I’m alone for a little while. There’s an unfinished knitting project sitting on my bedside table, and I’m itching to get my hands on those needles. That’s the closest I’ll get to meditation.
But Reed stops me. He holds out a hand to block my path, his expression serious. “Hey. Come on. Talk to me.”
When I still don’t reply, he sighs.
“Olivia. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Fine.” I round on him, my arms folded. “You wanna know what’s wrong? Fine. I’m pissed, that’s what’s wrong.”
He arches an eyebrow, but says nothing, leaving space for me to continue.
“We’re supposed to be a team,” I say. “But you let me walk into that blind. You didn’t tell me what was going to happen. You left me clueless—why? Because you thought it would be easier?”
Reed blinks. “No. That’s not it. I swear.”
“I can’t help you pull off this huge lie if you don’t keep me in the loop. How did you know I’d react correctly? What if I screwed up?”
“You didn’t screw up,” he says gently, laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
Admittedly, it’s nice to hear. I was a little worried that I looked upset despite my best efforts. But I shrug his hand off anyway. I’m not in the mood to accept comfort from Reed.
