Page 103 of Beautiful Lies

She steps out, her gown catching the moonlight, her shoulders squared like she’s holding herself together by sheer will.

I bid Don good night and follow Isla into the house. The click of her heels echoes sharply across the marble when we reach the foyer.

“I’m going to bed,” she throws over her shoulder, not looking back. “It’s been a long day.”

That’s it. No good night. Just distance. As if we didn’t just get married.

My wife rushes ahead of me up the staircase, the faint scent of her perfume lingering behind like a ghost.

I stop at the bottom of the stairs and drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.

No way do I plan to just let her go to bed, but I’ll allow her to think I have for a few minutes.

What in the hell happened? I need a clue before I throw myself into battle.

Mentally, I scroll through the events of the day, trying to pinpoint what I missed. I think of the last time I saw her. It was just before we split off. I went to play poker, and she was with Louise.

She seemed fine then.

“Knox.” A voice breaks through my thoughts.

I turn to find Dorian standing in the doorway to the living room, a small black box in hand. His presence in my home at this hour isn’t unusual. We’ve always had ami casa es su casarelationship.

But the fact that he’s here tonight means something’s wrong. Something that couldn’t wait.

“Hey, bro. You okay?” I ask.

“I’m good.” Dorian steps closer, the light catching the hard line of his jaw.

“What’s going on?”

“Something you’re not going to like,” he says quietly. “Where’s your wife?”

“Upstairs. What’s going on, Dorian?”

“The boyfriend showed up at the wedding.”

The words slam into me, hard enough to steal the air from my lungs. For a split second, everything inside me goes still—too still—the way it does before something explodes.

“What are you saying to me?” My body goes rigid, like it may snap.

“Chad was there.”

“When did he get there? Before the vows?” Did that motherfucker have the balls to try and stop the wedding?

Dorian shakes his head. “He arrived just before dinner. But I have a feeling he’d been lingering for a while.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want you to kill him. The press would have a field day with that.” He grins with quiet menace. “So,Idealt with him.”

My eyes widen slightly. Dorian is a fraction more unhinged than me. But where I react and lose my shit, he takes his time and makes sure you suffer to the fullest extent. And even then, he won’t stop until his inner psycho has been tamed.

“What did you do?”

His grin blossoms into a full-blown smile. “I had a littlechatwith him.”

That means he roughed him up a bit. “Can he still walk?”