“Why don’t you ask him yourself if you know everything, Riley Marston,” she said snapping the file shut. “Since you know everything else, I expect you to have the answers to those questions too!” She hurried over to her purse and jacket, then marched to the front door.
“Where the hell are you going?”
She barked a laugh as she turned to stare him down, tears in her eyes and her heart shattering into pieces. “I thought you were different. For once in my life, I trusted my instincts, and look where it got me. Dealing with just another jackass.”
As he headed towards her, he shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest. Arms that had so recently held her close. “You lied to me first, Phoebe. You got yourself into this mess.”
She felt her chest tighten, and the last bit of her heart broke. “Goodbye, Riley. Go screw yourself.” Phoebe yanked open the door, skipped the elevator, and ducked into the stairwell as he yelled after her. She nearly fell down the twelve flights as tears blurred her vision. She should’ve known it was too good to be true. Here she was, standing on the curb as thunder boomed overhead and rain started to patter down around her. No one to give her a jacket this time. No one to keep her safe and out of the rain.
Something buzzed in her purse, and she pulled her jacket up over her head before she pulled out her cell. Rain poured down around her, making it hard to hear. “Hello?”
“Phoebe, it’s Mitch.”
“Mitch.” She sighed, then felt the tears coming again. Before she could stop herself, she started to cry even harder. “Mitch…I…oh, man.”
“Phoebe, where are you? What’s wrong?”
“I’m on Fifth and Logan.”
“What are you doing all the way up there?”
“It’s a long story,” she whispered. “If you pick me up, promise you won’t ask questions.”
There was a long silence, and for a second, Phoebe thought he’d hung up. She heard the sound of keys jingling, then, “Get out of the rain. I’ll call you when I’m close.”
“Thank you, Mitch. I…just…thank you.”
“Now, Phoebe, I won’t ask what you’re doing up there, but you’re going to have to give me some answers. Like what the hell is going on.”
She nodded as she glanced around the street. “I will, promise.”
They both hung up, and she wondered what she should tell Mitch. The truth or more lies.
***
Phoebe had run out just as the storm hit, and it took everything Riley had not to chase after her and bring her back inside where it was dry. He hadn’t meant to attack her like that, but he’d just been so angry, listening to her blatantly lying to his face, trying to act like she didn’t know what he was talking about. As if she could keep lying to him and not get caught.
“What a joke,” he muttered as he poured a large glass of whiskey and plopped down on his couch, watching the lightning streak across the sky. “I hope you get drenched.” It was pathetic, really, but he was so torn apart he didn’t know which way was up. When Ben had shown him the file on her, he’d thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t. The woman he’d found a real connection with, who might be able to get him out of this inheritance mess, had been a fraud the whole time, possibly trying to bring down his company to help Yancey.
A knock sounded at his door, and Riley yelled at whoever it was to go away. A few seconds later, he heard a key turn in the lock.
“I just saw your girl getting picked up by Mitch Harper,” Ben said.
Riley sank deeper into the couch as he shot back the rest of the whiskey. Salt in the wound. Fine, that was just fine. If she was going to run from him and straight to Mitch…maybe they were actually dating, after all, and he’d just been part of their plans.
“Riley? You ok?”
“Need another drink,” he said and pushed himself up, walking right past Ben without saying another word. He grabbed the bottle, poured a glass full and was about to set it down when he decided it’d just be easier to take the bottle with him.
“So, you’re that good,” Ben said, sitting in the chair opposite. “Did you show her the file?”
“Yep, and she denied all of it—well, besides her name. But that would be stupid.” He laughed, already a bit drunk. He shot back another glass of whiskey, then poured a third, shot it back, and poured a fourth. That one, he stared at for a long time, the amber liquid shifting in his glass as thunder rumbled around them and the lights flickered.