Page 119 of The Arrogant One

“Bryn, I’ve got to go,” Sadie said into the phone that she was holding to her ear. She slipped the cell into her purse, gradually meeting my stare. “I, um …” She swallowed. “I …”

I’d asked her what she was doing in the lobby ofSeen.

I didn’t think she was going to admit the truth—not here. Not when Dear Foodie’s identity was a secret and, if I had to guess, not many people in this building knew it was Sadie.

Shit, she hid that well. It had taken me all this time to figure it out with a little help from Eden, but the signs now were too obvious to ignore.

There was only one reason she would be coming out of this building, and it certainly wasn’t because she managed their social media.

But I still said, “You what? You were having coffee with a friend who works here? They’re hiring you for yoursocial media expertise? Or perhaps I’m avoiding the real reason … the same way you are.”

Emotion built in her eyes, and her head fell forward. “Lockhart …”

“What, you didn’t expect to see me here? We’ve had that conversation before, haven’t we?”

She slowly glanced up, gripping the long strap of her purse.

“Say something, Sadie.”

Her throat moved.

Her chin quivered.

Her eyes watered.

Her stare was darting everywhere, but it didn’t stay on me.

She licked her lips and then licked them again.

But she didn’t say a word.

“Do you want to know why I’m here?” I questioned. “I have a gift. For Dear Foodie. Although we sent an official invite to welcome her to Toro, I thought I’d double down and bring something for her and the team atSeen. You know, to sweeten them up a little.”

The puzzle pieces had been floating around my brain, and while I stood here, staring at her, they began to slide into their appropriate places.

The way I had seen Sadie hold the martini glass when I ran into her at the sushi restaurant, wondering why those hands and position and nail color had looked so familiar. And a short while later, photos from that restaurant had appeared on her social media pages.

The Band-Aid on her finger—the same one that was on Dear Foodie’s in her macaroni and cheese video.

The whole reason she hadn’t gone to the hockey game and shown up at Musik, making the reservation days in advance. It wasn’t because she was working in the area; it was because shewas workingthere. She needed photos, she needed to experience the club, and she needed enough content to write about it. And the coincidences—the way she held our signature cocktail, the pictures of where she and Bryn were standing, the way her thumbs bent—hadn’t been coincidences at all.

She wouldn’t invite me to her place because she probably used her home to film, her kitchen as a studio—things she couldn’t hide, things she couldn’t have me see.

She worked in social media all right.

And she worked forSeen, the whole reason she was here today.

There was one final piece of evidence. Something I had to really dig for, something I hadn’t remembered until now while details of the night at Musik slowly came back to me.

Her bracelet.

It had sparkled under the lights in the VIP lounge, and I recall noticing it, standing out just enough in my memory now that I could confirm it was the same one that had appeared in her review of Musik.

I adjusted my shoulder on the door, pressing the glass to keep it open. “I’m not sure I need to sweeten things up for Dear Foodie though, do I?” I continued. “Seems I’ve already done plenty of that. With my tongue.” My lips locked together, and the anger that rose through me was like a goddamn lightning bolt, shocking my entire system.

How the hell could she have lied to me?

Didn’t she care about me?