Two Truths and a Marriage Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement1

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I fly through the kitchen and stagger back outside, bolting to my car.

The weather’s turned windy and fresh rain blows in my face.

I tuck the box awkwardly under my jacket, trying to look normal in case there are cameras.

I keep my head down, facing the ground as I walk to my car.

Walk, not run.

Confidence.

That’s one of the first lessons my dad taught me. Look like you know what you’re doing, and people will believe it.

As soon as I’m in the car, I open the box.

Sure enough, a few disorderly cupcakes stare up at me, perfectly normal aside from some damaged frosting. There’s a fingerprint gouging the icing, but otherwise, there’s nothing to suggest they’ve been seriously tampered with.

What else? What am I missing?

I feel ridiculous as I grab the cupcake and squeeze it in my fingers. The moist cake crumbles in my palm, raining crumbs all over my suit.

Goddammit.

I’m chasing my own tail and nothing makes sense anymore.

Then something sharp stabs my palm.

I stop and look at what I’m doing.

There’s some kind of small metallic disk at the base of the cupcake. A metal plate stamped with a number.

Bingo.

I rip open the rest of the cupcakes and find more, all stuffed into the bases. Sweat beads on my brow.

I don’t know what I’m looking at, not yet.

I just know these cupcakes were never meant to be eaten.

The small discs sit in my palm, sticky and menacing as tiny knives.

My hand shakes as I grab my phone, snapping a few photos for evidence.

I need to bring this back to Archer and Patton, but if Haute is using Junie’s goods to do something this shady, she needs to know ASAP.

Wiping my hands, I start the car and take off like mad.

This won’t be an easy conversation.

Too bad, Junie deserves honesty.

She also needs to end her business with Forrest Haute right the fuck now.

23

SWEET BETRAYAL (JUNIPER)

After the week we’ve had, the last thing I expect to see is Dexter turning up at the store in the middle of the day.

He’s not been seeking me out. In fact, it’s been the opposite.

Even when we’re in the same house together, he spends more time staring at a screen than at me, shuttering himself in his office to work.

I try not to be upset.

I knew what I was getting into—a crazy businessman with a beastly schedule. I’ve always just been a prop to help him land the deal of a lifetime.

That’s what I signed up for. There’s literally a contract with those terms, written by his lawyer in black ink and signed by yours truly.

Logically, he’s well within his rights to prioritize business over me.

The problem with logic is I don’t have to like it.

And I don’t.

I flipping hate the way my nerves still spark at the sight of him, suit rumpled and dark hair mussed.

I hate the way watching him perched in front of a computer through the glass door sends a rush of jealousy bolting through me.

I hate the fact that I’m folding my arms as he approaches, instantly defensive, even though it doesn’t make sense.

But isn’t that how it goes with instinct? You watch something precious as it falls apart and you try to protect your heart from the incoming blow.

You prepare for the worst, even if you know you don’t have a prayer of stopping it.

Okay, maybe that’s a little strong. Or maybe it’s just the cold truth.

He’s not about to tell me it’s over in front of everyone, of course, so I know it’s not that. He wouldn’t make this the time or place.

Sarah eyes us like a hawk. Oliver seems so distracted by the sight of Big Fish he’s dribbling coffee down his apron.

“Dexter,” I say, also hating the way his eyebrow rises at the sound of his full name. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh. Okay.” I smooth my finger over the bare spot where the ring is conspicuously absent. It’s in my pocket, weighing me down. “There’s a table in the corner—”

“No. Somewhere more private.”

Oh, crap-zilla.

Maybe he really is dumping me right here, right now. Just like Liam did all those years ago, because what the hell do my pesky little feelings matter when a big important man has an agenda?

But Dexter isn’t like that.

…is he?

Sarah’s still staring, and so are a couple patrons between slow sips of coffee. I summon a flimsy smile and pull my apron off.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Oliver, who nods with wide eyes.

At least Emmy’s in the kitchen so they won’t all see—whatever shit show’s about to go down.

It’s weird not feeling invisible. Today, I’m as conspicuous as a big ugly zit, and the attention is just as welcome.

“You don’t have to be so abrupt, you know,” I tell him as he leads me outside with one hand pressed impatiently to the small of my back.


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