Page 198 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Cordelia turned to me, her face nearly identical to Small Dick’s, it made me want to barf, too. She soothed a palm to her collarbone. “Excuse me?!”
Her cheeks matched the color of my roses. The only indicator of her irritation. Seriously, her forehead didn’t budge. Not one bit.
I shoved the bouquet into her chest. “Here. These match your face. You’re welcome.”
Gathering the lavender monstrosity Virginia had squeezed her bridesmaids into, I left the alcove of the Eastridge Country Club and entered the ballroom. My eyes sought and failed to find Nash.
Virginia spent the entire opening ceremony seeking a way to separate us, including sending me off to take pictures I scowled in. Meanwhile, Sir Balty creeped me out with his beady eyes and weird fixation with me. First golf, then brunch, and now the engagement dinner.
Enough already.
Pulling out my phone, I called Nash and remembered his had powered down earlier. I messaged him through the Eastridge United app, knowing he wouldn’t see it until he got home and charged his phone.
Durga: Tell me your favorite thing in the world.
I’d have to find him the old-fashioned way—gossip by socialites.
Pocketing the phone, I latched onto the arm of a random rail-thin brunette. “Have you seen Nash Prescott?”
She shook her arm away and sipped her Cosmo, a version of me my mother would have preferred. “He left down that hall with Virginia a minute ago.”
“Thanks.” I flashed her a fake smile and complimented her dress, because I knew she expected it—and would spiral if I didn’t.
Shoot me now. I hate these things.
Balthazar cued a waiter to him. I used it as a distraction and slipped past them. Déjà vu shotgunned into me once I hit the hallway leading to the office. My last time here, I’d barreled into Nash, exactly where he stood now.
He glanced at his watch, brought a whiskey glass to his lips, and entered Virginia’s office without shutting the door behind him. My heels rapped against the floor. I slipped them off and crept down the corridor. I didn’t want to be dramatic, but I’d sensed something off the whole night.
Nash seemed irritated with Eastridge, beyond his normal threshold. The silent car ride negated our honeymoon phase. It set me on edge, encouraging me to spy, even if I knew, morally, I shouldn’t.
Pressing my back to the wall, I inched as close to the door as possible without being seen. Virginia muttered something indecipherable, luring me dangerously near the open frame. I honed in on the scraps I could glean.
“Whatever you're doing with my daughter, I want you gone.”
If she expected him to cower like the spineless Eastridgers she’d grown accustomed to, she’d be sorely disappointed. Nash fought. For instinct. For sport. For survival. Anything else equated to giving up.
I anticipated Nash’s brash response with a smile on my face. Without seeing her, I knew Virginia’s impatience fed her fury. She was a furnace doused in Butane.
Ice cubes clinked together.
He took his time sipping. “Careful with the threats, Virginia. You may look good in white, but you sure as shit look awful in orange.”
She sucked in a breath, stilettos dragging on the floor a bit. “You know about it…” Know about what? “How—”
That tone. I recognized it. It came before a tantrum.
That neck-and-neck election for the chairwoman of the Junior Society? A Jimmy Choo thrown at the crystal chandeliers.
Gaining two-and-a-half pounds during our Italy holiday? Fat-shaming her debutantes.
After the deliveryman mistook her for my grandmother? A fire poker to the wall.
I leaned forward a tad. Just to see.
Neither of them noticed me.
Nash sat at the desk, back pressed against the leather executive chair, legs propped on the mahogany. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is, I know everything.”
