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Whitmore’s commitment.
The words slam into me with horrible, sickening clarity.
I’d tried so hard to scare Charles off. I’d talked about gaining weight after marriage, chopping all my hair off, turning into one of those wives who completely let themselves go. I’d practically handed him a list of reasons not to want me and waited for him to show even a flicker of disappointment.
But he never did.
Because he doesn’t want me. He never did. Not my youth, not my face, not my body—not even a little bit.
Heat rushes up my neck so fast it makes me dizzy.
This whole thing isn’t a romance. It’s a transaction.
Dad gets to clean up my ruined reputation by marrying me off to a respectable man. Charles gets Whitmore money poured into his precious company. And I…I get to be the bargaining chip.
I thought he wanted me for my looks, at least. That was the one tiny, humiliating comfort I was clinging to. But no. He doesn’t even care about that.
I can’t believe I let this happen. I agreed to it all just to keep Dad happy.
What the hell is wrong with me?
And just when I think the night can’t get any worse, I lift my eyes and lock gazes with the last person I want to see.
Heidi.
She’s standing across the room in a plain black dress that does nothing for her. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and she offers a small, sheepish smile.
Fine.
Let’s get this over with.
I roll my eyes at Charles’ back—he probably won’t even notice I’ve wandered off—and walk over to her, heart hammering against my ribs. I refuse to let it show. She already destroyed my life once. I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she still has any power over me.
“Heidi,” I say, keeping my voice cool and polite. “How lovely to see you.”
“Grace,” she replies, swallowing hard.
I open my mouth, the venom I’ve rehearsed for weeks rising sharp on my tongue—how she ruined everything, how humiliated I felt, how unforgivable it all was.
“You should know—”
But then Max appears beside her.
His shirt is streaked with dried blood down the front, his nose red and swollen. Without hesitation, he slips his hand into hers.
I stare at their joined hands as his thumb brushes gently across her knuckles in a small, soothing gesture.
Oh.
He actually loves her.
She squeezes his hand.
And she loves him.
The bitterness I’ve been carrying around suddenly feels heavy and pointless. As much as I want to hate them both, I think I finally get it. Unfortunately. Because I know exactly what it’s like to want someone you shouldn’t. To fight it, to try to do the right thing, and still fail completely.
Maybe they weren’t laughing at me while they snuck around during filming. Maybe they tried not to. Maybe they fought it too.
