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“She gave you space?”
“She did… just because she was planning to drop a bomb on me.”
“What kind of bomb?”
“A nuclear one.” She hitches a breath. “The romantic evening was perfect. Chance and me were reconnecting. I was filled with hope. So much so, I planned on telling Mariah she had to move out by the end of the upcoming week. Her presence was undesired from day one and I was unwilling to accept any of her lame excuses. As Chance and I were finishing dessert, she waltzed in—of course, my boyfriend gave her an extra key—”
“Your ex is an absolute moron.”
“He was under her spell.”
“No! He was an absolute moron.”
She nods, but I wonder if she’s convinced.
“Mariah came strutting to the table where we were sitting, plopped her ass on a chair and a plastic bag on the table. She then waited, her eyes bouncing from mine to Chance’s. He turned as white as a ghost. All the blood drained from his face. She grinned like a hyena before an attack. When I mustered the courage to ask what was in the bag, Mariah suggested I see for myself. Chance reached for the bag first, but I reacted quickly. The bag ripped and boxes of pregnancy tests came flying out.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly! Mariah looked at my boyfriend and asked him if he wanted to tell me or if she should. I told them to spare me the bullshit explanation. Chance had the gall to suggest a Sister Wives living arrangement—we’d each get him for one week and we’d all be living under the same roof. It was with herculean effort I didn’t spit in his face or pour scalding boiling water over his cock.”
I shake my head.
“Mariah was open to the idea.” Her words are dripping with disgust.
“Un-fucking-believable.”
“I almost slapped her.”
“I don’t know how you held back.”
“I decided to walk away before things turned ugly,” she says. “As Chance and Mariah were arguing in the dining room over her little ruse, I packed as much as I could in suitcases and called a cab. Since I had shattered his Sister Wives dreams, Chance told me not to let the door hit my ass on the way out.”
“He’s as disturbed as she is,” I say. “How long ago did that happen?”
“Two years ago.” There’s fire in her eyes. “Going to Europe was a way of distancing myself from their venom.”
“Is that why they’re getting married? Because of the baby?”
Her features go from dark to thunderous. “Mariah was never pregnant. It was part of her master plan to break up our relationship. She made sure to text me to let me know.”
“And Chance is still with her?”
“She has a way of weaving herself into your life.”
“Chance didn’t deserve you, Arianne.”
“Thanks for saying that, Beckett. The betrayal stung like vinegar on an open wound, but it was nothing compared to what I was about to find out.”
“There’s more?”
She nods. “Chance cheated on me and then he fucked me over.”
“How?”
“I worked tirelessly to put his company on the map. Those crowdfunding campaigns were my doing. He couldn’t even spell the word until I put together a proposal. I came up with the ideas. I managed the campaigns. I rallied the troops within his organization. I trained them. I amassed the money. On top of that, I took care of all his marketing and oversaw the product development team. He had someone in place, but the guy was useless. Just like the Apollo Project, I had my eye on the prize—make his company attractive to a potential buyer. He was generating six million dollars in sales when I started. By the time Mariah fucked everything up, his company was churning out eighty million dollars a year in sales.”
I whistle, nodding my head. “That’s impressive.”
