Page 112 of Bossy Grump


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“She said something interesting,” Paige says.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s none of my business, but—”

“You’ve tied your reputation to mine,” I cut in. “It’s your business. Our business, woman.”

“Are you sure? I guess I was just surprised to find out you were engaged before this.” She bites her lip and turns her head away. “It wasn’t fake that time, was it, Ward? But your mom clearly knows that I am.”

Fuck. My gut churns, sick with bad memories, so much crap packed into that singular statement.

“You didn’t admit anything, did you?”

“Of course not. If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be. We’ve come too far to ruin this,” she snaps. “Could you go? I need sleep.”

She needs to know I’ve got her. I never concealed anything to hurt her.

Hell, being able to get hurt was never part of this sham. It just happened, and we’re still falling a little deeper with every illicit kiss.

I slide an arm under her and try to pull her closer, but she anchors herself to the sheets, intent on keeping her distance.

“I thought you were staying in my room?” I ask quietly.

“That wasn’t in the contract.”

I turn my head and try not to laugh. That won’t help, but damn she’s cute when she’s pissed and stubborn.

“I was engaged before, if you’re dying to know. It ended badly. Her name was Maria, and she was from a different world.”

Slowly, Paige turns and faces me again.

Finally.

“Like me, you mean.”

“No. Like I didn’t have the pedigree to walk in her footsteps. Her father was from Spain, a distant royal. They were old money with access to big, powerful names. Not the kind of people who enjoy getting a whiff of any dirty laundry,” I say, swallowing the bitterness that tries to creep into my voice.

“I heard she was a princess.”

I look at her. “What else have you heard?”

“She’s a supermodel. Maybe a superhuman princess,” she says with a snort.

“She’s a model. Not a princess—the noble titles are tenuous at best, even if they were very proud of them. Point is, her family was wealthier than mine and far more blue-blooded.”

“Wow. I kind of thought Brandts were the cream of the crop.”

“Hardly. In the billionaire world, we’re comfortable, but still very much new money.” I clasp my fingers together, trying to work out the tension.

“So what happened?” she asks, her voice unsure if she wants an answer.

“The Parnell incident was ripped open again after we announced our engagement, just like my dad—and probably my mom—wants to do now.”

“Why? I don’t get why your parents think it helps them to keep bringing up a horrible experience.” Her green eyes flicker in the shadows, baffled and afraid.

“Dylan’s family started a civil suit. They couldn’t get anywhere poking at the criminal justice system, not with flimsy evidence and the killer lawyers my parents enlisted. The new lawsuit put it back in the headlines. And right now, I think my parents hope that if they bring it up again, Grandma will pay them to go away.”

“That’s crazy!”

“They’re crazy. Anyway, with Dylan’s death rehashed and Dad mouthing off about it publicly, there was a ton of bad press. Maria told me to my face she deserved better, but she wouldn’t back out. She gave her word to marry me. I told her she could walk the fuck away and blame me. She chose not to, swore it would all blow over, and I was relieved. Truth be told, I didn’t want more humiliation. In the media’s eyes, I’d go from being the billionaire bad boy with psycho parents to the billionaire bad boy with psycho parents who was also dumped by a duchess.”

“You’re not bad,” Paige says with a whisper of a smile.

“You’d like to believe that.” I wink, trying like hell to lighten the mood. Really, I’m trying to deflect the ache tainting my bones.

“But you couldn’t move past it, could you? She became your ex.”

“I’m getting there,” I whisper, running my hands over my face before I continue. “We made the mistake of having this big engagement dinner for our families to meet. I didn’t invite my parents, because—well—you’ve met my mother.”

Paige nods, barely breathing as she waits for more.

“Dad got pissed he wasn’t invited and showed up anyway. Drunk as a skunk, of course. Grandma asked him to leave, and he grabbed a bottle of wine off a waiter’s tray and smashed it against the table. He yelled and screamed at everyone there until the cops came.”

“Oh my God,” she hisses. “Ward...”

“It gets better. They dragged him off in handcuffs because he refused to go peacefully. As you can imagine, dinner ended early. I went back to my penthouse, wondering how I’d ever explain the shitshow, and Maria arrived a little later. She didn’t hold back. I’ll never forget her words, when she said, ‘I don’t see how I’ll ever have a normal family with kids. Not with that hideous man in my life.’”

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