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But why had I thought that?
And why had I never asked her?
Not that her answer would have mattered or sparked anything. I wouldn’t have ever thought, out of the thousands of students who went to that school, she would have authored the article.
But she had.
Anonymous was her.
She had aired my laundry as badly as the Celebrity Alert had.
She was one of the reasons why Hooked had hired Laura.
Why the guys had forced marriage upon me.
Why I was in this fucking situation in the first place.
All . . . because of her.
I set the plaque down, my eyes shifting to the invitation.
Where our names were written.
Where, in gold, it showed that Jovana was going to be my fucking wife.
No.
Hell fucking no.
I took my phone out of my pocket, and I opened the group chat I had going with the guys.
Me: Change of plans. Come to my place. Now. And hurry the fuck up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Grayson
I was pacing the living room with a tumbler of vodka in my hand when Easton and Holden walked in. I’d put in at least a fucking mile with how many passes I’d done so far, turning at the windows and again at the corner of the couch. Back and forth across the length of my living room.
With each step, I was piecing together the parts of the story that hadn’t made sense earlier.
The progression of how it all unfolded.
The lies.
Now that I could wrap my head around it all, I swore there was fucking smoke coming out the top of me.
“Get a drink.” I nodded at the bar as I made my way toward where they were now sitting. “You’re going to need one.”
Easton looked at Holden, but neither of them got up.
“What the fuck is going on?” Easton asked.
I halted at the windows, placing my back against the cool glass. That should have been enough to bring down my body temperature. To lower me from boiling to simmering.
But it didn’t.
There was a fire inside me, and it wasn’t letting up.
