Crown of Lies

“I am, and I’m not.”

I crossed my arms, doing my best not to overflow with annoyance. “That isn’t even an answer.”

Dad jumped in. “What you’re saying is he’s adopted?”

Penn smiled, granting him respect but not me. “On the way to being adopted, yes.”

“On the way?” I sniped.

“Yes, the paperwork has been filed. We’re awaiting the good news.”

“We?”

“Larry and I.”

“So you are gay?”

Penn looked at me condescendingly as if I just didn’t get it. “No, Elle. I’m not gay.” Taking another sip of water, his eyes darkened over the rim. “I thought we clarified that the other night when you came to my home asking me to help you with a small matter.”

Dad locked his gaze on me. “A small matter? Is everything okay, Elle?”

I fought the heat blooming on my cheeks. “Yes.” My teeth locked together, making it hard to reply. “Fine. Penn is just being troublesome.”

“I’m being troublesome?” He pointed at himself, shaking his head. “I think you’ll find I’m being nothing but cooperative.”

“If you were being cooperative, you would tell me who you truly are, where you came from, who Larry is, who Stewie belongs to, and what the hell your friend is doing in Fishkill.” I breathed hard, not caring my father watched me as if I was about to snap. I’d already snapped once today, and I bounced on the tightrope to break again. “Tell me the truth, Penn—if that is even your name. Then perhaps we’ll see how cooperative I can be.”

Silence cloaked the table. My outburst rang in my ears.

Penn didn’t move.

Dad shifted in his seat, but I remained locked in a vision battle with the man who’d taken my virginity, kicked me out, then rescued me.

I didn’t want to admit it, but beneath my hate and dislike and mistrust and wariness was the fluttering of feelings. When he’d washed my feet...I’d softened. When he’d pressed inside me, I’d caved. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he’d affected me more than just physically.

And I hated that more than anything.

This isn’t worth it.

I had a business to run. Greg to deal with. Distractions such as this were a waste of my time.

Standing, I threw my napkin on my dirty plate and sniffed. “You know what? I no longer care. It was a pleasure getting to know you, Mr. Everett, but I don’t want to see you again.”

Turning to my father, I added, “We’re not engaged, Dad, nor have we ever been, trust me. I slept with him—you might as well know that, seeing as he’s implied it in every innuendo he could. Do I feel good about that? No. Do I regret it? Yes. Am I pissed he lied to you about our engagement? More than anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m returning to the office where I’m in control and don’t have to put up with men like him—” I pointed a finger at Penn’s carefully schooled expression.

I didn’t wait for my father’s reply. Or for Penn’s rebuttal.

As I stalked past tables full of laughing diners, I crushed my heart for flying so fast. I’d done nothing but run away from that man since we’d met.

I disguised it with bluster and bravery, but really, I was terrified of him.

Petrified of the way he made me feel beneath my dislike.

Scared of the way my instincts nudged me harder and harder to look past the man and see someone I thought I’d never find.

But most of all, I was disappointed in myself.

Because for the first time, I’d been the one to lie.

Everything I’d said to my father, every word I’d growled about Penn—wasn’t true.

I felt good about sleeping with him.

I didn’t regret a thing.

And yes, I was annoyed about his lies, but I was more interested in the snippets of truth behind them.

It didn’t matter now.

I had other fights to win.

It’s over.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

CENTRAL PARK HAD two faces.

The sinful one it showed in silver moonlight with hooded nameless men, and the innocent one where sunshine dappled green grass and children squealed in the distance.

It’d been so long since I’d strolled through the lush greenery.

Three years too long.

Nameless...

He was in the trees and the breeze.

He was all around me but never there.

My heels clipped on the sidewalk, keeping me locked in the fury vortex of the restaurant. Needing to calm my heart rate, I slipped off the pretty pink (but crippling) shoes and switched pavement for turf.

The springy softness gave simplicity to the complication my life had become over the past few weeks.

The Tropics restaurant was nestled in a prime position on the border of the park. I had intended to call David immediately to collect me, but then the sunshine promised to calm me before book-keeping and running staff added a different kind of stress.

I would walk for a bit, soak up some vitamin D, and then call David to return to Belle Elle and deal with the pile of worry I’d left there. I’d cuddle Sage, work until my eyes were too sore, then return home and lock every single door against the world.

I hadn’t gone far—a few minutes at most when footsteps sounded behind me. Firm and faultless, masculine and moving fast.

My back tingled as I strode into a faster pace.

If it was who I thought it was, I didn’t want to talk to him.