Chapter 2

Huh?

Grant Dickerson froze.

I went on. "And pass along a message while you're at it. From this day forward, Clementine Pruitt and I are nothing to each other."

"But Mr. Farley, aren't the two of you getting married?"

Grant was baffled.

"She decided my face reads wrong."

I gave a small smile.

"What?!"

Once the shock passed, Grant started cursing. "Clementine Pruitt really can't tell gold from gravel."

"You watch. I'll make sure she pays for that insult."

The call ended.

I dug the wedding ring out of the trash, wiped it clean with great care, and slipped it back into my pocket.

Because it was the symbol of the Farley family's matriarch.

My parents had put it in my hands themselves, which meant they had blessed this marriage. So the moment the proposal succeeded, I could have told Clementine everything about me.

But she let it slip away.

That night.

She didn't come home, and she didn't send me a single message.

Raymond, on the other hand, posted the two of them watching the stars up on a rooftop.

It looked exactly like the way she and I used to be.

It wasn't until the next morning.

Clementine finally came back, reeking of cigarette smoke.

The brand Raymond smoked.

There was a red mark the size of a thumb on the side of her neck.

She must have caught me looking, because she pulled her hair over it, then said, "Are the files for the South End project sorted or not? A whole night and nothing. You never used to drag your feet like this."

"You never used to stay out all night either."

I said it evenly.

The next second, her face went cold.

"Tim Farley!"

"Raymond is my brother. What's so strange about spending one night with him? You can't hold a grudge just because he told you a few hard truths last night, poking at everything and reading motives into it."

"And we're talking about the project right now, so don't go dragging in other things!"

She was like a startled cat, each word louder than the last.

"What Raymond said was the truth?"

"Then what if I told you Raymond never trained under any master, that he's a con artist who drinks, gambles, the works?"

I asked.

"Impossible!"

"Can you not be so twisted?"

She shot back at once. "Raymond said it himself. The face grows from the heart. The darker a person is inside, the worse their face reads. The more I can't stand you!"

She turned and walked into the bedroom.

I had stood beside her for ten years.

Everything I had said.

Everything I had done.

She had seen all of it, and in the end she pinned a label on me. Dark inside.

And instead she trusted Raymond, a man she hadn't seen in years.

Not long after, Clementine came out in a little slip dress with black tights, fixed her eyes on me, and said,

"Yesterday Raymond said he envies all the couples out on the streets and wants to try it himself."

"So he asked me to play his girlfriend for a day."

I remembered Clementine once saying she didn't like wearing clothes like that out, that she only wanted to wear them for me.

Now she was lowering her own standards for Raymond.

Seeing that I said nothing.

Clementine visibly relaxed, and added, "I had someone else sort the South End files. You just calm down and think things through for yourself."

With that she turned to leave.

"Let's break up."

The words came out of me all at once.

Clementine's steps stalled. She turned, those lovely eyes going wide. "Tim Farley."

"You think you can use a breakup to threaten me? Sorry, that doesn't work on me."

"You're the one who can't let go of this relationship. Not me."

She was banking on ten years of my devotion.

Full of confidence.

The moment the door shut.

Grant called. "Mr. Farley, we've talked it over. When Clementine comes in for the negotiation seven days from now, we'll terminate the partnership then, all at once."

"Fine. Handle it however you see fit."