Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(80)

“Fictional men are just so much better.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get out of there. Away from this conversation. When I’d written that book, I hadn’t thought about the Upper East Side reading it and speculating. But I should have.

I pulled out my own phone and texted Amy our signal on shaky hands.

Okay???





Lewis put his hand on mine. “Don’t worry about it. They’re not going to put it together,” he whispered.

“Let’s hope not.”

Thankfully, with dessert over, the rest of the plates were cleared, and the party began. Penn immediately disappeared from our table, as if standing in our presence for that long had been real torture.

I grabbed my small bag and followed Lewis toward the dance floor, carefully avoiding both Michelle and Jana. Katherine and Camden were waltzing to their first dance and were soon joined by the rest of the party. I swayed with Lewis, resting my head on his shoulder.

“What if they figure it out?” I asked.

“They won’t. It’s fine. I read it. It could be any number of people. It wasn’t like you made the main characters the mayor’s son and a girl whose dad is in prison for securities fraud. You fictionalized it. Unless they were there, they’re not going to know.”

He was right. I’d made it unrecognizable from what had really happened and who the people were. But still…

A few dances in, my phone started ringing. I glanced down at it and saw Amy’s number appear.

“I have to take this,” I said with faux concern. “Amy knows I’m here. She wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”

“Yeah, of course. Go ahead. I’m going to get another drink.”

I nodded at him and then beelined for the exit. I felt a twinge of regret at the slight deception as I answered the phone.

“Hey, Amy.”

“Phew, I haven’t done that in so long. Wedding not so great after all?” Amy drawled into the phone.

“It’s been horrible, honestly. I’m so ready to leave.”

“Well, you must be if you’re on the phone with me after you signaled the save me from my date message.”

I laughed. “It was the only way I could think to get away from these two women who were discussing who they thought wrote Bet on It and were the main characters in my book.”

Amy gasped. “So cool!”

“Not exactly. I don’t want them to know!”

Amy laughed as I eased into an empty alcove near the entrance to the party. It felt like I could finally breathe again, away from the limelight.

“What did you decide to do about your boy?”

“Well, I’m here with him,” I said.

“Real convincing, Nat. You’re not naive. Are you going to be able to forgive him for what he did?”

I sighed and tilted my head back. “I’m trying. It’s still soon after what he did. Let me get through this wedding and then Christmas. I’ll be better when I come back for New Year’s.”

“I cannot fucking wait for you to get here for Christmas. We are going to do all the things. All of them.”

I laughed. “Well, thank god.”

Amy continued rambling about all the things she had planned for us for Christmas, but my eyes locked on a figure moving toward me. Penn stopped a foot away, and I cleared my throat to interrupt Amy.

“Hey, Ames. I have to get back.”

“Right. Right. Okay. Text if you need another excuse to get away.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“You, too. Bye, babe.”

I hung up the phone and met Penn’s penetrating gaze.

“We need to talk,” he said.

I sighed. “Why? Why do we always have to talk? Can’t we get through an evening without talking?”

He just smirked, as if imagining all the evenings we’d done just that. But he was smirking into his cell phone and then handed it to me. I took it in surprise.

“What’s this?”

“Just look.”

My eyes skimmed the page, and suddenly, I pushed off of the wall, straightening in shock. My stomach plummeting. My hands shaking. I was going to be sick. I was staring at the first page of my new manuscript, It’s a Matter of Opinion. The manuscript no one had seen but me, Caroline, and Gillian.

“How the fuck do you have this?” I hissed.

“That’s what we need to talk about,” he said calmly.

“Tell me right the fuck now, Penn. This isn’t a joke.”

“I know it’s not. Let’s go somewhere private. I don’t think we should do this where people can see us. They might…notice.”

My hand clenched on his phone. I needed answers. I needed answers right the fuck now. And if that meant five minutes alone with Penn Kensington, then fuck it.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to get alone.”

“We could go outside.”

I shook my head. “It’s too cold.”

A devilish grin spread across his face. “I have an idea.”

“What?” I snapped.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t like that you have that fucking manuscript on your phone either, but here we are. Tell me.”