Page 126 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

I grab the bottle to pour another finger.

Footsteps approach. Saint snatches the bottle from me.

"Hey."

I reach for it and he clicks his tongue. "Get your head in the game."

I glare at him, and he holds my gaze. He’s as tall as me, as broad, as able as me to lead any initiative for the Seven; he’d had as much at stake, but he’d withdrawn and given me enough rope… To hang myself, as it were.

"You knew."

He angles his head. "The fuck you talking about?"

I thrust out my chin. "You wanted me to fall for her?"

"Are you falling for her?"

"Stop answering one question with another."

He clicks his tongue. "You have it bad."

"Don’t change the fucking topic." I grab his collar and yank him forward. "Tell me, you didn’t set me up to take the fall in this."

"I didn’t."

He lowers his eyebrows. "You’re imagining things, old chap."

Am I?

"Why?" I growl, "Tell me Saint, or so help me I am going to punch in in your pretty face."

"You couldn’t." He smirks. "The last time we went a round, you know what happened."

Neither of us had won. It had been a fucking tie, again. He and I are too well matched. It’s what makes us compete with each other for everything.

"What were you doing speaking to her yesterday?"

"What are you doing in the office the day after your wedding? Shouldn’t you be busy taking your bride on a honeymoon?"

"A pretend honeymoon, and no, that was never on the cards, as you well know."

What the fuck is his problem anyway? How dare he talk about her?

"Let go of my collar, Sin." I glance down to find I am gripping his shirt. I let go, step back, and hold out my arm.

He thrusts the bottle at me. "Your funeral."

"Since when are you so concerned about my well-being?"

"Ah, let’s see," He holds up a finger. "Since you decided to come up with a hare-brained scheme of doing good to salvage our reputation—which I could have told you for free was a bad idea. Then hired the one woman you should have kept your distance from, then married her. All in the name of revenge?"

I swig from the bottle. The liquor goes down smoothly, burning a trail in its wake. My toes feel numb... That's good.

"You don’t fool me."

"Blah-fucking-blah." I mimic a mouth talking with the fingers of my left hand. "You done?"

His lips firm. "You need to get it through your head that not all of us are your enemies."