Not the Marrying Kind(49)
“There you two are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Silently cursing Stan Walkerville’s rotten timing, she dragged up a smile for the old guy. By the glower on Beck’s face as he released her, he was just as annoyed by Stan’s interruption. “Enjoying yourself?”
Stan frowned and jabbed a finger in Beck’s direction. “I don’t take kindly to being made a fool of.”
To Beck’s credit, he didn’t blink. In fact, his expression didn’t change at all and she admired his ability to maintain a poker face when she would’ve been tempted to sock the guy for speaking to them in that patronizing tone. “Not sure what you mean—”
“This party,” Stan hissed, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “You knew what I thought of this celebrating divorce rubbish yet here you are, smack bang in the thick of it.”
Unease crept down Poppy’s spine but she dismissed it as being overcautious. She gripped Beck’s hand and held on just in case.
“Lou’s my CFO and a good friend. I had to be here—”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Stan’s narrow-eyed glare swung her way. “Turns out your wife is perpetrating this divorce abomination and you’re both choosing to hide the fact.”
Poppy swayed as her blood pressure dropped, the shock of Stan’s revelation ripping through her earlier confidence. That had been her problem, being too happy. With the job she’d done here, with the diva business, with her marriage. Pride falls and all that.
“Let’s go discuss this somewhere more private—”
“No.” Stan took a step closer and Beck held his ground. “There’s nothing to discuss. Either your wife stops this revolting business or our deal is off. Got it?”
Beck showed the first signs of emotion, tension pinching his mouth. “Let’s be reasonable—”
“I am.” Stan jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his wife, surrounded by a posse of equally nipped and tucked middle-aged women. “Bessie’s a senior minister in our church. I can’t be seen associating with anything distasteful, which is why I nixed your deal in the first place.”
Beck opened his mouth to respond but Stan held up his hand. “You’re a smart businessman, Blackwood, but my patience is running thin. This is your last chance.”
He jabbed a pudgy finger in Poppy’s direction. “Get your wife under control or kiss our deal good-bye.”
Stan gave them both one last death glare for good measure before stalking away.
“How the hell did he find out?” Poppy asked.
Beck stared at her, wild-eyed. “Do you think that matters?” He swore and released her hand. “I’ve worked on this frigging deal for eighteen months and now it’s all down the toilet because of…”
He didn’t need to complete the sentence. His body language and inability to look at her spoke volumes. Despite the fact that he’d put her in an untenable position, forcing her to accept his proposal, he blamed her business for this. Irrationally blamed her, when he’d been in control of this fiasco right from the very beginning.
And in that moment, with her heart aching and the slow burn of tears stinging her eyes, she knew exactly why she hadn’t let any guy get this close before.
Love hurt like a bitch.
Uh-oh.
She loved him? Sheesh, the good times just kept on rolling.
“Go on, say it. It’s because of me.”
He shook his head and turned away. She had her answer right there.
“Don’t you dare turn your back on me after all I’ve done for you.”
He glanced over his shoulder, incredulity warring with anger. “Yeah, you’ve been a real girl scout. Altruistic. Not doing any of this for your own benefit.”
A torrent of furious, hurtful retorts bubbled up and threatened to spill from her lips, so she clamped them shut. They’d already garnered a few curious glances from partygoers nearby, and no way would she give them fodder for tomorrow’s gossip columns.
“This isn’t the place.” She snagged his arm and half dragged him away from the revelers. “Let’s go sort this out.”
They headed for the door, and it irked that even at a time like this, he managed to paste a smooth smile on his face for the crowd.
The consummate performer. And that’s when it hit her.
He’d been playing her all along.
The ring, the divulging of past truths, the time spent together—it was all a lie. A ruse by a player who had an objective in mind and would do anything to achieve it. Once the deal had been inked, he still needed her beside him, playing the dutiful wife, demonstrating to his precious fricking investors he was the man for the job.