“I thought you were staying all December.” Her big brown eyes were wide with worry.
“The CEO has called me back. Nonnegotiable.”
“Really? What if I send him some cupcakes?” Emmie fretted. “I mean, I guess if you have to work, you have to work. I can come visit you. The train runs every—”
“No.” I cut her off. “You can’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We can’t see each other anymore, Emmie.”
“Why? Because you’re my lawyer?”
I turned my head to stare at her. “No, because you killed your husband.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I told you I’m innocent.”
“Yes. However, I’m a lawyer. People lie to me all the time. You have no idea how often people lie straight to my face.”
“I didn’t kill him.” Shock and disbelief showed in in Emmie’s eyes.
“You are the only one profiting from his death. You could have easily poisoned those cupcakes and gifted them to Brooks,” I said. “This murder investigation and the little damsel-in-distress routine were just to throw me off my game. Even what we did in the cabin.”
There were two angry spots of color dark on her cheeks.
“You seriously believe I was just using sex to distract you?” she choked out. “Who do you think I am?”
“I think you’re a woman who wants to get away with murder and collect a massive paycheck.”
“I can’t believe you. We have all these other suspects—”
“What other suspects?” I snapped. “Rosie? Who else could it even be? Maybe your grandmother did it, hm? Maybe she’s the real murderer.”
I heard the crack before I felt the sting of her hand as she slapped me. “You, Marius, are an asshole, and I should have known because all you lawyers are vindictive, selfish pieces of shit.” She stood up, the chair toppling. Her nostrils flared she stared down at me. “And to think I was starting to fall in love with you.”
Grayson had decidedI should be in Manhattan by now, back at my desk, and he’d been calling me nonstop.
I sat, stone-faced, in front of the fire in the sweltering great room as the windows darkened and Moose pawed at my leg, wanting to go outside.
Something wouldn’t let me leave.
Part of me didn’t want to walk away from Emmie, even if she was likely a murderer and was going to drag me down with her. Because once I got on that train, it was over. No more Emmie.
You didn’t even like her.
But I did. Even though I tried not to, I did like her.
And she was falling in love with me.
Just to torture myself, I let my mind wander to a happy picture of Christmas in the future, in our home, with our cats and children, decorating a Christmas tree.
Instead, I was going to be spending Christmas alone in a cold glass tower far, far away from Emmie’s warmth.
It was all a lie.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Ow!” I yelped as Aunt Frances smacked me on the head with a rolled-up newspaper.
