without a fight, because I was really his last hope of getting his hands on his trust fund. He didn’t have enough time to do the whole fake relationship thing with someone else—not if he wanted to make it seem realistic. Especially since he’d be expected to take a break between our “divorce” and the beginning of another relationship. He’d be forced to elope again and, yes, it would definitely look fake.
He reached out and cupped the side of my neck. “I need you, Vienna. I need you to trust me when I say I didn’t break my word. I need you to stay on board. You said you were in this until the end,” he reminded me.
I had, and I’d meant it. But now … now, well, nothing had really changed, had it? Because I did believe he hadn’t broken his word. Which meant he hadn’t really done anything to deserve my anger. I was directing it at the wrong person.
I was also being a little unfair. Whoever sent those pictures wanted to break us up. They could have as easily followed me around and took photos of me that would seem incriminating. If they had, I would have wanted Dane to hear me out. No, I’d have expected that he’d have had the common decency to hear me out. And if I’d properly explained the truth of the photographs but he’d still doubted my word or wanted to walk out on me, I’d have been pissed. Not to mention hurt that he’d think so little of me.
Dane wasn’t angry with me, though. He wasn’t telling me to be rational or to cut him a break. He was being uncharacteristically patient and understanding. And me? I was playing right into the hands of the person who sent the flash drive. They’d wanted to hurt me, and I’d let them have that power. Which was utterly stupid.
But wouldn’t it be just as stupid to stick around when I was clearly in far too deep with him? Wouldn’t it make much more sense to leave now? Or would that just be cowardly?
I’d never thought of myself as a coward. But as I stood there weighing whether or not to walk out on him, which would mean not only breaking my word but leaving the guy in the lurch, I felt somewhat gutless. My mother was the one who ran; who always put her own needs first and didn’t give a shit how her actions affected others.
Dane gently brushed my bangs aside. “When I can prove it was her, I will make Heather pay for this.”
I blinked. “Heather?”
His brows hiked up. “You think it’s a coincidence that I sent incriminating pictures to Thad’s wife—ruining Heather’s relationship with him in the process—and then you’re sent a flash drive on which there are photos of me that appear at first glance to be equally incriminating?”
Actually, I hadn’t made the connection. It would indeed seem like one massive unlikely coincidence. Still … “I can see why you’d think it was her, but this is not Heather’s style. She doesn’t do ‘low-key.’ She’d come to o-Verve and toss printouts of the pictures on my desk. She’d want us both to know how clever she was in finding you out. She’d want to see the hurt on my face; want others in the building to hear that you were screwing around on me.”
“Not if she feared dealing with blowback from me. This way, she got to hurt you without suffering the consequences—she’d prefer that over backing down completely. I’ll bet she’s at her parents’ house right now, expecting you to turn up any second in tears carrying a suitcase full of your things. She wouldn’t want to miss the show. Heather can’t stand the thought of you being happy. She wants to ruin this for you. She tried to convince me to leave you, but it didn’t work, so she decided to try to make you leave me.”
It made sense, and yet I wasn’t sure I agreed Heather was the mastermind. It could have as easily been one of the other people so intent on coming between me and Dane.
I sighed and dropped my head, so fucking tired of people trying to play me in one way or another. And, of course, they were no doubt counting on that, the bastards.
Dane stepped closer and palmed my nape. “I swear to you, Vienna, if you’d asked me where I’d been those nights, I’d have told you. I just