Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(37)

He matched my smile, both of us using a normally kind human response to wield emotion filled with contempt and loathing. “You got it, my boy.”

“If you’re going to use a term of endearment, how about you choose a more appropriate one?”

Arnold grinned. “What would you prefer?”

“Oh, I dunno. How about the truth for once? Scapegoat? Fall Guy? Whipping Boy? Any of those work.”

I’m the one you blame and take the rap for others, you lying sack. Might as well own up to it.

His face blackened. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why? So your staff won’t find out what a heartless cunt you are?”

He flinched.

I didn’t stop.

“Five years of my life you stole on three different occasions—all for things I didn’t do. And now, you’re about to steal more. But this time, I’m not gonna be so silent. I have a family now. I’m rich. Charge me with whatever you goddamn like, but rest assured, I won’t have some shitty state-appointed lawyer who’s on your payroll to shuttle me off to the slammer and then be beaten by your men to keep me silent inside.”

I took a step toward him.

It was a balancing act of pushing but not being an idiot. Any one of his officers could shoot me if they thought I was threatening him.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore.” I lowered my voice. “Do your worst. Let’s fucking dance, Arnie. Let’s see who wins this time.”





Chapter Seventeen


Elle


WAS IT WRONG of me that I’d taken Penn’s box?

Was it immoral to sit on my bed after the longest bath in history, biggest dinner I could stomach, countless checks on my father and his heart, and endless cuddles from Sage to open his box of secrets?

For the past three hours, I’d assured Dad I was okay, made sure he was okay, answered his questions, dodged others, and then lamented with him while he directed his red-hot fury at Greg.

Steve called professing apologies, David stood guard at my door—even though I told him that wasn’t necessary—and Sage wouldn’t let me go even to use the bathroom on my own.

She curled up on a towel on the edge of the bath while I soaked away the aches and bruises Greg had given me.

Afterward, she swatted the belt of my Terry cloth robe as I padded warm, tired, and finally alone to my bedroom.

And there was Penn’s box.

Begging me to read its contents.

To pry.

To sneak.

To steal everything I could about him.

I’d stared at it for the past hour while both angel and devil squatted on my shoulders, whispering to keep it closed, muttering to open it, murmuring to trust, nudging to search.

I’d failed him in the hallway when he was taken. I’d failed him when he’d kissed me, and I fought the knowledge my heart already knew.

Was I failing him again by picking apart his lies and seeking the truth without him here to fill in the blanks?

He’s Nameless.

Wasn’t that all that mattered?

I thought it would feel different to finally know.

To hear him admit that he was there, he was the chocolate kisser, he was the Central Park romance.

But his confession had split me. I couldn’t add up the Penn I knew and the Nameless one I didn’t. They didn’t match. Why had he changed so much? Had he changed or was it all an act?

The stupid fantasy that I’d believed in of finding Nameless and picking up where we left off, faltered. What if that kismet attraction and instantaneous lust weren’t enough to delete the mess between us and start afresh?

I’d slept with him. I’d lost my virginity to the man I’d been dreaming of for three long years.

I felt...ashamed.

I’m confused.

I’m angry with him and myself.

I didn’t know how to make sense of anything anymore.

It made me doubt everything I’d felt that night and tarnished it because if I could be around Penn this long and not fall insanely in love with him, then what did that mean about that night in Central Park?

Open the box.

Stop wasting time.

Sage batted it with her paw, meowing softly as if she didn’t approve of the foreign object taking up space on my lap. Her soft silver fur glowed warm like a tiny moonbeam, her tail flicking in impatience and curiosity.

“Don’t look at me like that. Go. Fetch.” I threw her purple mouse that was missing its tail and half of its whiskers.

She arched a kitty eyebrow as if pitying me that I thought she’d play catch like a dog. I merely held her stare until she scowled and leaped off the bed, hunting for the thrown toy.

While her back was turned and her judgy eyes were elsewhere, I cracked the lid and held my breath.

I held my breath until my head swam and my heart knocked on my ribs in a reminder that it needed oxygen to breathe.

I didn’t want to breathe because beneath the emergency contact numbers was a driver’s license of a man I wished I could forget; one I wished I could delete and pretend never existed.

Baseball Cap.

Gio...I believe.

I recalled the two men calling each other names but couldn’t be entirely sure I’d remembered them correctly.

Then again, his name printed on the license told me I was right.

Why could I remember him so clearly when I’d struggled to place Penn?