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“I mean, you’re cooking for her when there’s nobody to report it and nobody from the press to impress. What are you doing, man?”
I shrug. “It’s gone past that.”
“Gone past what?” Luke frowns, his blue eyes reflecting his confusion.
“The whole arranged business,” I explain. “It’s gone past that. I have feelings for her,” I utter the words before I can stop myself. “Real feelings.” My gaze drops as I take a step back, and the words settle in the air.
I do have feelings for her.
“Tristan.” I look up, and Luke’s blue eyes darken. “We need to talk, man. Remember when you asked me to look into her?”
“No, no. That’s fine. I don’t want to know anymore. She’ll tell me whatever it is when she’s ready.”
“I think you want to know this, man.” Luke’s tone is deathly low.
My blood runs cold at his words. I run my hand through my hair and look around as Luke speaks.
“Miles wrote another hit piece last night. This time, he accuses you of pushing Deanna to suicide.”
“What’s new?” I laugh mirthlessly. “Fuck him.”
“Well—” Luke doesn’t smile, “—this time, he linked audio recordings of you saying you abandoned Deanna when she was suffering from depression.”
What?
Dread settles over me as Luke continues speaking. Audio recordings? That’s impossible. I didn’t say that to anyone but Layla.
“Recordings where you admit you drank and rarely came home, pushing your wife into a depression that ultimately culminated in her death. I called the board members, and they’ve all heard the recordings. To say the least, they aren’t pleased.”
“Wait, recordings?”
“Yeah, in your own home, most likely.”
My mind flashes to the conversation with Layla. The confession was just before we had sex. The way she’d fidgeted when she asked about Deanna.
No, it can’t be.
“What the hell are you talking about, Luke?” I turn my building anger on him as I step closer.
“I did some digging into Layla’s background, man.” Luke presses his car key, and the doors unlock.
There isn’t a revelation yet, but I feel tense. The air rushing out of my lungs in pumps of disbelief like I’d been sucker punched. Did Layla record our conversations and then feed them to Miles? Did she concoct the lies about Miles coming to her home? I know she was hiding things, but this—
Luke pulls a manilla envelope from his car and locks the door. His expression is grim as he hands me the envelope. I collect it with steady fingers despite the walls of my mind crashing down.
“Layla had an antique store in town, Tristan,” Luke continues as I hold the envelope without opening it, almost scared of its contents. “Right here in town.”
“So? What happened?” I frown. “Did it close down?”
“You destroyed it.”
“What?” my frown deepens, confusion marring my features. “What are you—”
“It was one of the demolished buildings on the site you’re constructing your secret project.”
“Wait—” I hold out my hand, “—Rich said everyone there was on land they weren’t supposed to be on anyway, and I also paid compensations to everyone who had their buildings destroyed. They had no right to the land, but I still paid.”
“Well—”
