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Chapter Thirty-One
What text?
It didn’t escape Nash’s attention that Emily watched him like he’d killed off the puppy. His eyes darted between her and the ticking time bomb known as Eva Trout.
Man, he should’ve looked for her texts. Who would’ve thought that she’d drive all the way over here because he didn’t answeronetext?
Eva was dressed to the nines in a silky dress that she must’ve worn to her last party. It had to have been an all-nighter by the looks of things, though her blonde hair was an immaculate wave over her face. She’d probably decided spontaneously to drive over to meet him afterwards.
Nash’s attention shot back to Emily, who was still in the big tee and stretch pants that he’d left her in. Her fingers twisted the ends of her shirt. What had Eva told her?
Emily didn’t look happy. His heart lurched when he saw the tears glimmering in her lashes. “Eva came into your room looking for you,” she informed him.
He raised his hands slowly. “Eva is just a friend,” he said. “There’s nothing going on between us.”
“Yeah.” Emily stared down at the floor, like she couldn’t even look at him. “You’re just in league with her to force your brother into marrying her.”
He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. He’d never agreed to that deal.
Apparently, that was the wrong reaction. Eva’s head tilted with suspicion. Emily glared at him, but at least she was looking at him, and not the floor. “Yeah, yeah, I’m not surprised that you find that amusing,” she spat. “That’s your thing, right, tricking people? I know about that oil, Nash. I don’t think Millie does. What’s going on? Did you ever plan on telling me?”
Okay, that was a lot more serious. He should’ve known that Eva couldn’t keep her rosebud mouth shut about that. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you doing this? Is it the money?”
Not anymore. He didn’t know how to explain, except to show her. He slid his phone from his pocket and handed it to Emily. “This is what Lacy Lynch threatened me with if I don’t work with them.”
“Lacy Lynch?” she asked. Emily played the video.
Eva leaned over her shoulder, her eyes widening. “Oh wow, that’s real hot, Nash. You really know how to kiss a woman.” She turned to Emily, who was turning dangerously silent.
He recognized that look. Emily was shutting down. He’d seen her do it when she was having stage fright. This was too much for her. Nash shifted, knowing that the last thing Emily wanted right now was his hands all over her, even if it was for comfort, and still he wanted to hold her.
Eva glanced over at Emily, her face freezing into a grimace that was worthy of the cringe emojis that she liked to send. “Uh yeah… I don’t think your fans are going to like that video.”
Really? Duh. Eva was making everything worse. How could he get rid of her?
Emily’s lips pressed together. She was stopping herself from retorting, like she was surrounded by James Bond villains who would strap her onto a rocket when she revealed she knew their plans. It killed Nash that she’d ever see him that way, but what could he expect?
He saw himself that way, too.
Her hand shook when she passed his phone back to him. “You’re trying to protect me?”
He nodded. He’d never see her hurt with this video, but he didn’t want to blame her, either. “I was a real idiot; I never should’ve taken the job.” He shouldn’t have done a lot of things. “When I saw the trucks looking for oil, I called West and I let myself justify it—for too long, I know.”
“And when you started to get second thoughts, they sent this?”
He hated to admit what a puppet they’d made of him. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath. “Let it come out,” she said in a stronger voice. “People can see the real me.”
“That isn’t the real you,” he argued. Everything was out of context.
“Oh yes, it was! I can’t lecture you about being fake with me when I can’t even be real with myself.” Her breath caught on a sob. “I let myself do this. I’m a horrible person.”
She was getting hysterical. Abandoning his earlier restraint, Nash rushed to Emily to steady her.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered.
