Twisted Lies 2 (9 page)

When my feet hit the carpet, the lights
exploded everywhere. I lifted my gown train and tried to walk
around Jade.

The paparazzi screamed questions, coming at
me from all directions.

“Sinthia Michaels! Can you pose for a
photo?”

“Are you wearing a gown from your upcoming
collection?”

“Can you comment on the rumors that you and
Core McKay are now business partners?”

I uncomfortably looked at Jade before trying
to hurry up the stairs.

“Go, go, go!” the paparazzi said, actually
moving to chase me.

Jade wrapped an arm around my waist and
whispered, “Relax.”

“This is new. I didn’t realize I was a
celebrity,” I muttered.

I plastered a frozen smile on my face as we
posed for photos.

“Enjoy it, sweetheart. You deserve it.” She
stepped aside, allowing me to have additional photos taken by
myself.

The flashing lights started to freak me out.
I sighed gratefully when Jade looped an arm through mine, leading
me away from the cameras.

We ascended the red-carpeted staircase lined
with camera crews, photographers, reporters, and other gawkers.
Tonight’s gala was a tribute to all the rich elite and A-listers
congregated at the venue.

I surveyed the scene upon entering the
mansion. A giant chandelier made from hundreds of red and white
roses conspicuously hung above the information desk. The desk was
completely covered with red roses rising five feet high.

Jade and I handed over our invitations for
inspection, and then we waited patiently while a white-gloved
security staffer politely scanned our bodies with a handheld metal
detector.

Walking farther into the mansion, we
strolled up the main staircase covered by walls of pristine white
roses. At the top of the staircase, Cate and Bigsby regally stood
as if they were a royal couple and greeted arriving guests.
Millions of dollars were at stake tonight, money that could be
added to Bigsby’s political war chest by wealthy patrons. Cate had
corralled and badgered to death donors. No one said no to her
unless they wanted to feel her wrath. She was a ruthless, conniving
bitch who would think nothing about taking down the most powerful
people unless they played nice. All those traits made her an
excellent match for Bigsby.

Bigsby adjusted his bow tie, looking ultra
sharp in his black tuxedo with a white silk cummerbund. He advanced
forward, offering his hand to me. “Sinthia, it’s great to see
you.”

I shook his hand. Bigsby lingered a second
or so long on the handshake. I quickly pulled my hand away, barely
suppressing the urge to wipe my palm on my gown to remove any trace
of his touch.

Cate swayed frontward. Her mask of
neutrality slipped as she eyed the deep-V neckline plunging down to
my belly button. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Then she said,
“Thank you for coming, Sinthia.”

My irritation swelled. Cate was an uptight,
judgmental witch. I was comfortable with who I was. It had taken me
too many years to get comfortable in my skin.

My gaze swept over her gown. It wasn’t my
design, but I could admit Cate oozed glamour from her elegant updo
to her couture white-and-black ball gown and the pair of white
gloves she’d donned.

“I was dragged here,” I responded stiffly,
nodding over at Jade, “by your arm-twisting niece.”

Cate inclined her head with her eyes locked
on Jade. “You’re late,” she snapped.

Jade’s lips pursed. “I’m not in the mood to
argue tonight. Just be happy I came to this circus.”

They tensely faced off.

Cate’s eyes narrowed, disapproval turning
down the corners of her mouth. She bit out, “Jade, a minute in
private.” She smiled warmly at Bigsby. “Darling, I’ll just be right
back.” She turned on her heel, walking toward the corner of the
room.

Jade swiveled to me and said, “Sin, I’ll be
right back,” and then she followed Cate.

The top of the staircase opened to a huge
space. My eyes flickered through the room. The stunning venue had
been transformed for the occasion with light-gray sofas and flowers
placed throughout. It was amazing and hard to take in the splendor
all at once. My gaze paused on Erika and Ariana, who were huddled
together and whispering while giving the guests sly glances.

“What a beautiful bracelet. Where did you
get it?”

My head snapped to look at Bigsby, only to
find his eyes locked on my wrist.

“A gift.” I kept my answer short.

“Scottish?”

I arched a brow. “What?”

A muscle twitched beneath Bigsby’s left eye.
“The bracelet is Victorian Scottish.”

“How do you know that?”

Bigsby held up his hand, displaying a chunky
diamond and ruby–encrusted horseshoe gold ring on his middle
finger. “I have a distinct taste for jewelry.”

I suspiciously eyed him. He tried to look
innocent but failed. I absolutely didn’t like something about
Bigsby, and my dislike had grown when he launched a bid for New
York City mayor as an independent candidate.

“We have something in common—Scottish family
roots.” His eyes narrowed. “But curiously, your last name isn’t
Scottish. Why is that?”

I was just about to tell him it was none of
his fucking business when a couple I recognized from television
sauntered up to him. Bigsby’s body tightened as he ran his hand
over his salt-and-pepper hair with agitation.

“We’ll definitely continue this conversation
later.” He reached to touch my elbow.

I stepped back, avoiding his caress. His
eyes went cold before turning away, promptly dismissing me to greet
the couple.

I turned and made a beeline toward Ariana
and Erika.

Ariana kissed my cheek before twirling
around in the Swarovski crystal-covered halter jersey column dress
I had designed. “Go ahead. Tell me how hot I look.”

“Ariana, you look beautiful, but trouble is
on the horizon, and I need you to rescue my bestie.” I pointed my
finger over to the corner where Cate had Jade hemmed in while
jabbing her bony finger in Jade’s face. “Like right now.”

Ariana’s face turned thunderous. “I’ll be
right back,” she said before charging over to Cate and Jade.

I smiled at Erika. “So how do you feel in
your first Sin Michaels design?”

Erika was stunning. The dark richness of her
skin contrasted beautifully against the form-fitting pale-yellow
silk gown that featured a neckline composed of silver crystal
embroidery.

She air-kissed me. “Gorgeous, sexy, perfect.
All of the above.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear”— I
dramatically pursed my lips—“because I’m really sensitive about my
shit.” 

I wasn’t kidding. I’d dealt with difficult
clients who rejected all my sketches, asked me to try other
options, and then ended up picking the first sketch I’d shown them,
wasting my precious time. But Erika was the opposite of all my
notoriously difficult clients. When I’d shown her several sketches,
she’d loved them all. She’d said she wouldn’t pick, and she’d wear
whatever I designed for her. That had shocked the shit out of me.
I’d been in design heaven when she gave me complete creative
control.

Erika looped an arm through mine. We walked
toward the thick of the gala patrons milling around. “My husband
has been drooling over me, and that’s worth the price of admission,
darling.” She grinned at me. “Oh, speak of the handsome devil.”

A tall blond man walked over to us and
kissed Erika’s cheek with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Darling, this is Sinthia, the designer I
told you about. Sinthia, this is my husband, Mitch Fillion.”

I never met Mitch while dating Kyle. I noted
he looked nothing like Kyle, except for his blond hair.

Mitch stepped frontward and shook my hand.
“Erika was talking about you nonstop on the limo ride over here.”
He smiled at Erika. “It takes a lot to impress my wife.”

Erika leaned forward and whispered, “I’ve
got a girl crush.”

He chuckled. “Should I be worried?”

She smiled up at him. “Nope. My girl-on-girl
phase disintegrated when I graduated from college. I’m all
yours.”

I could tell they were in love.

Mitch wrapped his arm around her. “After our
energetic limo action, I’m not complaining.” He kissed her ear.

I almost swallowed my tongue when the
Television Producer Voted Most Likely to Bitch-Slap an Actor
giggled like a damn schoolgirl.

Erika pinched his ass.

I cleared my throat loudly and said, “Right
here, guys. I’m right here.”

Normally, couple PDA made me uncomfortable,
but they were cute.

Erika inclined her head, peering around the
room, when her eyes narrowed. I turned to look at what had caught
her eye. It was Kyle and a blonde barreling through the crowd
toward us.

My breathing picked up. I was baffled as to
why I had a lump in my throat while my stomach churned. Maybe it
was because I hadn’t seen him since the night I caught him
cheating. The heartbreaking memory of his jeans bunched around his
ankles and a blonde preparing to deep-throat him hit me. Kyle had
ripped my heart out and stomped on it until it was a bloody pulp.
Yet here he was, heading for me with a ridiculously big smile on
his handsome face, staring at me as if we were long-lost friends.
As abruptly as the feelings had appeared, they disappeared.

“Mitch, you’d better do something.” Erika’s
heated stare bore into Mitch. “I swear, if he says anything to
embarrass Sinthia, I’ll castrate him.”

Erika’s vehemence broke the tension, and I
bit back a laugh. I could tell Erika wasn’t bluffing from the way
her fingers clenched and unclenched as if she were actually
squeezing the shit out of Kyle’s balls.

“Calm down, Erika.” Mitch patted her arm.
“He won’t. I warned him I wouldn’t tolerate his rude behavior.” He
looked at me. “Sinthia, Erika didn’t go into detail, but she did
make it very clear that Kyle was less than kind to you in high
school.” He sighed heavily. “The long and short of it is I wasn’t
the greatest father when his mother and I were married. Kyle went
through a rebellious asshole phase, and I pretended not to
notice.”

I smiled, liking his brutal honesty.

He touched my elbow. “I can’t make amends
for anything he’s done in the past, but I can hold him accountable
for his behavior tonight. Trust me on this.”

“It’s okay, Mitch. I’m fine.” Surprisingly,
I was. There was no pang of unrequited love. There was nothing—no
emotions, no desire. Just fucking nothing for Kyle.

Kyle dragged along the beautiful blond woman
clinging to him like arm candy. “Sinthia, wow. It’s so good to see
you,” he said, leering at me as if he wanted to eat me alive. “You
look really great!”

The blonde’s fingers possessively tightened
around his arm. Frankly, she was captivatingly beautiful, so I had
no idea why she would be insecure in my presence.

I coolly eyed him. “Kyle,” I responded.

I really wished I could laugh at the fact
that time had not been good to Kyle, but that was far from the
truth. He looked the same. Tall and blond, he was gorgeous, with a
cock-sure smirk that made me want to smack him senseless.

Erika growled, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kyle,
stop staring at Sinthia with your mouth hanging open. Introduce
your
wife
.” Her hands went to her hips, accentuating her
small waist.

“Oh, Kyle.” Mitch covered his face with his
hand.

He shot Mitch an annoyed stare before
looking back to me. “Sin, this is—”

I cut him off. “It’s Sinthia, not Sin. Only
friends call me Sin.”

His smile slipped. “Sinthia, this is my wife
Claire,” he muttered under his breath.

I politely nodded at her. She nodded right
back.

Thankfully, Jade materialized by my side,
looping her arm around mine. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know my
family crisis was averted, and no Bellisario was killed in the
making of the reality show starring Cate.” She turned to smile at
Erika and Mitch. “Hello, guys.” She pursed her lips at Kyle. “Oh,
look, it’s Kyle, the prick.”

Kyle glared at her, and she glared right
back.

A giggle slipped out of Claire’s mouth
before she slapped a hand over it. Kyle coolly looked at her, and
her face went back to a blank mask.

Shit, she was like some doll being
manipulated by her puppet master.

Jade smiled widely at Mitch and Erika.
“We’ll see you two later. There’s a bar calling our names.”

I barely had time to wave good-bye to Erika
and Mitch before Jade smoothly maneuvered me away.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Kyle
leering at me. From the determined glint in his eyes, I knew his
mission was to pursue me like a stalker.

“Damn, that was fucking uncomfortable,” I
whispered.

“He’s an idiot. I swear, he was sporting a
hard-on while he was drooling over you.”

Seeing Kyle again had been that
heart-stopping moment I’d dreaded for years. Frankly, it hadn’t had
quite the drama and anxiety I’d anticipated. I’d felt absolutely
nothing—no pitter-patter of my heart, no I-wish-he-were-mine-again
angst. I said a thankful prayer to the universe that the conceited,
egotistical douche bag was someone else’s problem.

“Let’s head to the bar. I’m going to need
something stronger than champagne to get through this shit of a
night,” I said.

We strolled amiably among the glittering
rich and star-studded men and women as we each casually snagged a
glass of whisky and a canapé from the passing waiters. Celebrities
preened for the photographer floating through the crowd.

Shrewdly, Cate had ensured that only her
richest friends were invited, and every one of them was competing
for social media clicks and likes. The conversations were
punctuated with little, “Oh,” “Hey,” and, “Sorry,” as heels landed
on long skirts.