Page 90

Emma
Ishake out my sweaty palms, waiting for Serena to answer the door, my gaze going up as it finally swings open, meeting frosty blue eyes instead of the warm, green ones I was expecting.
“Archer, hi, I—” I get stuck on those eyes, the coldness in them just like Connor’s earlier. The center of my chest aches at the remembrance, but now’s not the time to focus on that. “Serena invited me over.”
He crosses his arms, dress shirt straining at the seams. “She told me.”
He doesn’t move out of the doorway, the action not boding well for the possibility of me moving in temporarily.
“Is she here?” I surreptitiously try to peek past him, but he’s too big.
“She’s fixing up the guest room. Says she asked you to stay.”
And I’m guessing based on his narrowed eyes he opposes that? “I have some things to explain to her first.” I bite my lip, glancing down at the welcome mat under my feet. “She might change her mind.”
“Connor told me what happened.”
My head jerks up. “Everything?”
One side of his mouth quirks. “I have a feeling not all of it. But about Montague Media.”
I nod, keeping the tears that have been prickling at my eyes all day at bay. “You didn’t tell Serena?”
“Not yet. Thought I’d give you the chance first.”
I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
He opens the door wide, finally stepping aside to let me in. My feet are frozen, though, not ready to head for the guest bedroom. “How did he seem?” I whisper. “Was he upset?”
“Yes.”
My eyes squeeze shut, not sure why I even asked.
“You better have a good explanation,” he warns in a low voice. “I know Serena’s your sister, but I’m not letting someone in her life that’s going to keep lying to her.”
I understand where he’s coming from, I really do, but it hurts all the same. “I’ll tell her everything.”
“Tell me what?”
I look beyond Archer to see Serena standing at the far edge of the living room, Petey by her side. Okay, not off to a good start.
“I’ll let you guys be,” Archer says, disappearing into the home office he and Connor met in the last time I was here.
Serena motions the dog toward his bed in the corner, and takes a seat herself on the couch. I join her, gripping the hem of my shirt to twist it. If Archer’s that mad, will he put a stop to the idea of me staying here?
“Is something going on?” she asks, face set in concern. “You sounded serious.”
“Yeah.” Heat crawls up my neck, my cheeks burning, and I momentarily wonder if she suffers from the same affliction, or if that’s solely from my mom. “Connor already told Archer, but I wanted to be the one to tell you. You know, why I was really working for Connor.”
She settles into the cushions more comfortably, tucking a leg under herself. “What do you mean?”
I pluck a white dog hair off the couch, wondering how long I can delay the inevitable.
Ugh, just say it already.
“I don’t know what your relationship with Dad was like,” I start, “but mine was… not good.” To say the least. “He hid me and Mom away. Supported us, but made it clear we were lucky to have his money. That we should be grateful, that we were in his debt, essentially. And, well, he finally cashed in all those years of indebtedness recently.”
“But what does that have to do with Connor?”