I sip the tea, which burns my lip, and try not to cry again. Part of me wonders whether I should keep the truth to myself, but suddenly I realize how tired I am of lies. “He’s the father.”
Her expression would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so upset. “What. The. Fuck?” She stares at me. “I thought you said you were ten weeks.”
“I am.”
“So what… how…”
“It didn’t happen at Blackridge, Bree. It happened the night of the ball.”
Her white eyebrows, already close to being invisible, nearly disappear beneath her fringe. “You slept with him?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“You want me to draw a diagram?”
“I meant… where?”
“We went up to the penthouse apartment.”
She starts laughing, then presses her fingers to her lips as I glare at her. “Sorry, it’s not funny.” Her eyes gleam, though.
My lips slowly curve up. “It is a bit funny.”
“You dark horse.” She lowers her hand. “Wow. I would never have expected you’d do anything like that.”
“That’s sort of why it happened. The quiet little mouse rebelled.”
Her smile fades as she obviously recalls saying those words. “I am so, so sorry.”
I sigh. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
She watches me sip my tea. “Did he know? Or did you tell him today?”
“Someone blabbed. I guess he was angry at finding out third hand. He assumed it was Peter’s.”
“Are you sure it’s not?”
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate.
“But he wasn’t happy about it? The pregnancy, I mean.”
“No,” I say sadly. “He thinks Gramps engineered it all to soften him into agreeing to the partnership.”
“Well, yeah. He did.”
I blink and stare at her. “What?”
“Of course that’s why he sent you,” she says softly. “He obviously picked up at the board meeting that there was something between the two of you. Our grandfather is a very smart man, and he knows how to use people to get what he wants.” It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak about him that way, and it shocks me.
“You must have known,” she says, puzzled. “You knew what he was like.”
“I knew he used people. I just didn’t realize it included his own family.” Jesus, Caesar was right. No wonder he thought it was all orchestrated—because it was. That wasn’t him being cynical. It was me being naïve. I feel so incredibly foolish and hurt.
“So… what are you going to do about it?” Brielle asks.
My eyebrows rise. “What do you mean? What can I do?”
