Chapter 10

Charles still looks sick, but it's in a grim, determined sort of way. He knocks back the rest of his whisky and signals for another before standing up and facing me head on.

"All right," he says, his voice heavy and a little slurred from all the drinks he's probably had today. "You're right, we do need to do this. Let's go somewhere private, though. We can't talk here, right in front of the dance floor."

He grabs the fresh whisky the bartender places in front of him and gestures for me to follow him out of the room. I do, peeking behind me as I go to see if Marcus has noticed where I've gone. He's surrounded by a knot of society ladies and is chatting avidly with them, without a spare glance for me.

Satisfied, I hurry to follow Charles out of the ballroom. He's paused in the doorway, looking impatient.

"Hurry up," he grumbles when I get close to him. "And be careful. The last thing we need is anyone noticing that I'm sneaking out with you. I've had enough rumors to combat after that horrible cake incident."

I try not to smile as I remember the cake incident. I say nothing, however, and continue after Charles.

He leads me to a random side room that I hadn't yet noticed that evening. We duck inside. It's very small, but there are several chairs scattered around. It's a pretty little nothing of a room, more like a fancy closet. The walls are deep rose and gold.

I take advantage of my chance while Charles is fiddling at the door, seeing if he can get it to lock. I slip a hand into the pretty beaded evening bag that I'm carrying on my arm and tap my phone a few times.

There – the recording app. I have it switched on and my hand out of the bag before Charles can even turn back around. I leave the bag open and set it carefully upright on my lap as I perch on one of the chairs.

I hope the recorder will be strong and clear enough to pick up our conversation through the material of the bag. It's not perfect, but it's the best I can do. I had to just grab my chance whenever it came, and this is probably the only chance I'm going to get.

"Why the need for a private room, Charles?" I ask. "Is it because you have something you feel guilty about? Maybe something you'd like to even apologize for?"

"Look, Nicole," Charles's voice is even heavier than his steps as he trudges across the room and sinks into the chair across from me. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry about everything. I'm sorry that I didn't meet you at the prison, and I'm sorry that I didn't invite you to my wedding."

I narrow my eyes. This was a very odd apology, if you asked me.

For one thing, why would Charles be sorry about not inviting me to his wedding, instead of being sorry that he was, you know, marrying someone else in the first place? For another, his apology sounded rehearsed – like someone had given him a warning of what I might be upset about.

Someone like Becki or Darlene, maybe. Or even my father.

"Charles, I have to say, this apology is ringing a little hollow." I don't mean for my voice to sound so sarcastic and bitter, but it does.

"I think you have a hell of a lot more to explain to me beyond a 'sorry I didn't invite you to my wedding'," I add. "I'm not your distant cousin who got accidentally left off the guest list. I'm your former fianceé who you left to rot in prison in order to save your sorry ass."

Charles's eyes dart around the room briefly, like he's looking for an escape, but then something seems to steel in his spine and he slowly shifts back into Mr. PR Man, the smooth-talking politician.

"Look, Nicole," he says again, this time in a pleading tone. "This is why I needed to do this in private. You don't have the full story."

"The full story?" I ask. "What's the full story, then, Charles? Because I know what it looks like from where I'm sitting, and it looks like you're a major jackass at best and an actual criminal at worst."

Charles winces. "Just listen to me. I am sorry. I know what a – difficult time you've had. There's been a lot you haven't known about, things I didn't feel I could tell you, for your own safety. I did love you, Nicole, but things were out of my hands."

Before I can answer this, he holds up a hand and continues. "Now that I'm a member of the Alpha family, I can fix this for you. I'll compensate you. I'll set you up in a gorgeous villa, anywhere in the world. You'll be set for life – you'll never have to regret your career, because you won't even need one anymore."

A surge of rage flashes through me. A kept woman, is that what he expects of me? A pretty plaything that he broke and can just stuff in a box? Not likely.

"Charles," I say, letting anger seep into my voice now. "I don't want your money. I just want to know why."

Charles sighs.

"I'm beyond grateful to you, Nicole, I really am. Your devotion to me was unmatched, and I repaid it poorly. I didn't even expect you to still be thinking about me when you got out of prison, but you were, and I let you down.

"But you don't understand the stakes. Daisy, my new wife, she's insanely jealous. Controlling. She monitors my phone and all my emails, even business ones. All women's numbers are blocked. I'm not even allowed to speak to a woman unless she's here.

"That's why she was so angry at the cake cutting, when people saw me looking at you. If she knew we were in a closed room together, she'd probably stake me through the heart."

Charles sniffles, wipes his eyes. Eyes that are begging me to believe him.

How can I believe him, though? After everything he's done.

"Charles, that's – what does that even really mean? How does that relate to me?"

Charles takes a deep breath.

"I was promoted," he says, with a bitter smile. "I was promoted, and I was so happy, because it was finally going to give us – you and me, the security we needed when you were released from prison.

"But then I was introduced to Daisy at a party. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of socializing. Things got – out of hand. Daisy, well. My wife is a very conniving woman. She always gets what she wants."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"I'm talking about the drug that she slipped in my drink," Charles says. "The next thing I knew, it was morning, and I woke up in bed with her. I felt so ashamed, Nicole. You trusted me, and that's how I repaid you. But I didn't do it on purpose."

I sit back in my chair, feeling numb and confused.

"A few weeks later, Daisy called. She said – well, she said she was pregnant. If I didn't marry her, she'd ruin my career for good."

I gasp.

"And from that day on, I was cut off from all other women. Including you, Nicole. If Daisy knew the truth about you, about the prison arrangement…she'd kill you. And I couldn't let that happen.

"I"m so sorry, Nicole, but you have to believe me, and you have to forgive me. I have to move forward now. I have a wife to look after, a baby on the way. I have to live up to my family responsibilities. I'm just heartbroken that you got caught in the crossfire."

He finishes speaking, looking at me with a pleading, hopeful gaze.

I'm stunned. I've spent weeks thinking of nothing but how much I'd like to get revenge on Charles.

But what if he's telling the truth?