Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(99)

“But I wanted Fite. He knew that.”

“Tell me, Rachel, did my grandfather strike you as a particularly enlightened man? When it came to women?”

Rachel’s thumb traced the corner of the frame. “He was getting better. I’m hardly a girly girl, and I proved myself, slaved for him—”

“And forgive me, but your last name really is Farley, isn’t it?” Not Roche.

Her blue eyes flashed. “He knew my mom had to give me my stepfather’s name.”

For a moment Bev wished she had confronted Rachel during the day. When other people were around. Rachel had a wild, unhinged look that was making her palms sweat. “But who did he promote to be executive vice president?” she asked softly.

Rachel slammed the picture down on the table. Bev jumped back, clutching her heart, darting her gaze between Rachel’s twisted face and the diagonal crack that had appeared across the framed glass. “That dick was supposed to marry me. That was the plan. Late nights wiggling my ass in his face—hah! I told Daddy he had to be gay because he never slept with any of the women at work, let alone me. But Daddy just told me I wasn’t his type, and sure enough, you waddle in here with your big boobs and your Roche name and bam! Suddenly Liam pretends he’s in love.” She picked up a glass of Champagne and drained it. “But you saw through that. Now it’s just us.”

Bev clasped her hands together to stop their visible shaking. “Your father planned for you and Liam to get together?” She nudged the frame and its broken glass away from the edge of the table. Perhaps she was glad she’d never met the old man.

“It was my idea, but Daddy liked it. I promised him I’d name our kids Roche, and nothing would ever have to change.”

“Lovely,” Bev said, swallowing over the lump in her throat.

“At first I was pissed you slept with him, but now I’m grateful because you drove him away.” Rachel leaned back, smiled. “You’ll be happy to take my money. Anything to save the company, right?”

“Not anything.”

“Come on, you were never going to stick around. The only reason you didn’t sell out to Ellen was because one, she’s a bitch, and two, you met Liam and were like, get me some of that. Well, they’re both gone, and I’m here and totally loaded.” She pinched a shard of broken glass in the frame between her thumb and index finger and poked it into the print underneath.

Bev stood up. “I don’t want your money. You’ll need it when you leave here.”

“You won’t fire me. It will take months for the A-Tuck money to flow in,” she said, pouring herself another glass of Champagne. “Besides, we’re family. You’re too nice to get rid of me.”

Her conviction was so strong, so disgusted, and so unfounded, Bev couldn’t help but laugh—just as Liam burst into the room. Laughter dying, Bev swayed on her feet and gripped the table for balance.

His eyes found hers. They stared at each other across the room, everything else falling away, even Rachel’s smug malevolence.

It felt so good to see him she smiled, dumb and happy, before she remembered he had abandoned her in her time of need and was probably showing up now to gloat about using Annabelle Tucker.

She sank back down into her chair, looked down into her empty glass. “What are you doing here?”

“Your assistant has been screwing with you.”

“I know.” Bev picked up a scrap of black cotton-lycra blend and began wiping away the condensation on the table from the champagne bottles. “Turns out she’s family. Explains everything. She’s my aunt, can you believe that? My aunt.”

He nodded. “She told you?”

“You knew?” She could see he did. “All this time, and you—”

“Ellen told me just now.” He looked over his shoulder just as her aunt appeared in the doorway.

“You’re going to believe him?” she asked Bev. “I’d be a little more suspicious if I were you.”

“Don’t worry, sis,” Rachel said into her glass between swallows. “She’s got him all figured out.” She sounded drunk.

Liam gazed at Bev from across the room with a melting, hungry expression that took the air out of her lungs.

He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his hair was messy and flopped unevenly over his left eye. He wore jeans—not designer Casual Friday jeans, but faded, torn, paint-stained Levi’s. Above that he wore a royal blue dress shirt, the one he used to wear to work, but was now wrinkled and unbuttoned and failed to cover a plain white undershirt.

She saw his big heart in his eyes, and realized she’d made a horrible mistake.

“Of course I believe him,” she said softly, never taking her eyes off of him. “I thought she was my grandfather’s girlfriend.”

Rachel made a disgusted sound that Liam ignored. “Me too,” he said, smiling at her, warm and warmer, and she felt her heart beat faster with each breath.

Ellen picked up a bottle, grimaced at the label, and dropped it back on the table. “Don’t be a sucker. Father told him everything else, why not that?” She looked at Bev. “Get ready for him to suddenly want to get serious. Now you’re the only one standing between him and the one thing he really wants.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Liam said.