VANESSA BELMONT
How much do you wanna bet Fiona's "attack" was self-acted? I know it makes me jaded and cynical to automatically think she's full of shit, but I do.
You know who still hasn't got a clue about this woman's green tea antics?
Nathan.
"I'm not in love with Fiona." Nathan grabbed my hand and squeezed. "I promised her mother I would take care of her."
"You're the only one that can help?"
Nathan hesitated then he said, "Right now? Yes."
For good reason. Her family was a bunch of schemers and she'd learned from the best. I sighed. This is the way it will always be, I thought. Until I learned to let Nathan go, I would be competing for his time and attention. He would never fully love me. How could he when Fiona Grand was occupying my place in his heart and in his life?
I pulled my hand out of his grip. "Your epiphany didn't last long."
"She doesn't—"
"Have anyone else," I finished for him.
"I'll just make sure she's okay. I'll be right back."
"No, you won't." I nodded toward the door. "Go."
"Vanessa..."
"Don't come back," I said. "Leave me alone. I mean it, Nathan. Outside the parameters of our contract marriage, I don't want anything to do with you."
"You're being childish. Why do I need to choose between my friend and my wife?"
"The fact that you think it's a choice is the problem," I said. "Treat Fiona however you want. Friend. Lover. Future stepmother to our children. I'm your wife in name only."
Nathan looked at me, his eyes begging for understanding, but I had none to give. I was on my second life, and I'd already chosen him again. My heart couldn't seem to take the hint that Nathan would never love me. Fiona wanted him so much, she killed me. And he chose to save my murderer. Why in the hell did I think he would make a different decision in this life? I had changed, but Nathan had not.
"Go." I pushed the tray table away and slid under the covers. I turned onto my side and closed my eyes.
A moment later I heard the door click shut. I looked over my shoulder.
Nathan was gone.
I sat up in bed, my fingers twisting in the sheets. A bitter laugh escaped me. Fiona had really hooked Nathan. A conveniently timed fainting spell, a dramatic headache, her so-called autoimmune issues (yeah, right) ... anything to pull Nathan away from me. And her scheme had worked. Again.
The room was too quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights grating against my nerves. I stared at the ceiling, counting tiles just to keep my mind from circling back to Nathan.
I reached for my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. I could call someone. My mother. Maybe Grace. Ollie. But who could possibly grasp the absurdity of competing with a woman who had literally gotten away with my murder in another life?
The door creaked open. I didn't bother looking up—probably just another nurse with more pity and paperwork.
Then I caught the scent of expensive cologne.
"Damn, Neenie. You look like hell."
My head snapped up.
Carver Haynes leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, that infuriating half-smirk already in place. He was dressed in black tailored slacks, a white fitted shirt rolled to the elbows, the top button undone just enough to remind me that he had a muscled chest. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he'd been running his hands through it, and his green eyes flicked over me with something between amusement and concern.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
He pushed off the door and strolled in. "Heard my favorite heiress got a fever bad enough to go to the hospital."
"The amount of tequila in my system probably had something to do with it."
He dropped into the chair beside my bed, stretching out his long legs. "Where's your dear, darling hubby?"
"Guess."
"Fiona Grand called again?"
Miserable, I nodded. "I shouldn't care. It's a contract marriage."
"You've been crushing on him since college. It's hard to let go of those feelings."
"Unrequited love sucks." I met his gaze. "Ollie said I was your white moonlight. Is that true?"
Carver shrugged. "My white moonlight and my feelings for her are my business." He studied me, his gaze unreadable. He reached into his jacket and pulled out two lollipops.
I blinked. "What am I? Four years old?"
"Lollipops are for everyone. It's good to have a sweet for when you're feeling sour." He pushed one of the suckers into my hand. Blueberry Coconut.
Carver watched me unwrap the sucker, his fingers tapping idly on his knee. "So, you're going to marry a man who doesn't love you because the Jangs and Belmonts are trying to secure their businesses?"
Ouch. The truth stung. "Yes," I said. "Unless I can get Nathan to cancel the marriage. The only way my parents will agree to ending our engagement is if Nathan requests it."
The door swung open. A nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Ms. Belmont, how are you feel—oh!" She blinked at Carver. "Visiting hours are over. Unless ... you're her husband?"
"Sure am."
She frowned. "Wasn't there another man earlier? I'm fairly sure he said he was Miss Belmont's fiance."
"Nah. That guy's her brother."
"Oh." The nurse wrote something on her clipboard, said good night, and left.
I reached over to slap Carver on the thigh. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Aw, c'mon. You'll check out of the hospital in the morning, right? So, who cares if I claim the husband title tonight."
"I care."
Carter stood up, leaned down, and then tapped my nose. "Little fool. That's your problem." He handed me another lollipop. "For later. I'll pick you up in the morning."
"No, you won't. I can go home by myself."
"See you in the a.m." Carver said, as if I hadn't spoken. His lips pulled into his patented heart-stopping wicked grin. Then he waved good-bye and left.
My phone's screen lit up with a text. I didn't recognize the phone number.
Unknown Number: Do you know where your fiance is?