Page 87 of Fake Dark Vows

“Roulette table it is, but if I spot the telltale signs of addiction in those beautiful eyes, I’m dragging you outside kicking and screaming.”

A blush creeps into her cheeks, and I’m not sure if it’s because I mentioned her beautiful eyes or if she too had a mental image of me binding her ankles to the headboard.

“Brandon, I saw the photos.”

No more secrets. “Not my finest look.” I try to downplay them—I can’t exactly ask her what she thought of seeing me naked with another woman. I know how I would feel if the tables were turned.

I try to swallow the uneasiness creeping through my veins. Jealousy has never been in my vocabulary before Rose, but my fists instinctively clench at a mental image of Damon and Rose on Ruby Island if she’d chosen my brother over me. It’s our island—mine and Rose’s—Swimming Beach is ours too.

“I-I know what you’re up against, Brandon.”

Of course she does—she read the email. “I can handle it, Rose. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But I do.” She flashes the diamond at me, and it catches the sunshine, casting prisms of light across the balcony. “You jump. I jump.” At my vacant expression, she adds, “It’s from Titanic.” Pause. “You must’ve seen Titanic. The movie?”

I grimace. “I don’t get a lot of time to watch movies.”

“Okay, does this hotel have a private cinema room?”

“You want to watch a movie instead of trying out the pool loungers?”

“We can do both. We’re on our honeymoon, Brandon. Vegas is our oyster, or something like that.” She grins at me. “Seriously though, whatever the photos were all about, can’t you just go back and press the reset button?”

I hang my head. “It isn’t that simple.”

“This has something to do with Ron Valentine, doesn’t it?”

She’s observant. Where did she pick up on this? Outside the Blond Giraffe—I answer my own question.

“Is it too late, Brandon?”

“Too late?”

“To reconsider whatever arrangement you have with Ron?”

What’s the motto I’ve always worked by: it’s never too late? Why am I so irked that Rose is paying attention to what I do? Is it because I haven’t had time to wholly trust her, or is this whole ‘a man is an island’ thing so deep-rooted that I can’t break through the surface to view the sunshine?

“The damage is already done. Even if I have the photographs pulled right this instant, people will always remember them.”

“Give them something else to remember.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

Her expression falters, and I feel an instant pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean it to sound like that’s all this is to me.”

“What is it to you, Brandon?” She sits forward, her eyes so large and hopeful that I could get lost in them.

What is it to me? I’m still trying to figure it out, but I do know that I’m not prepared to walk away from the fake marriage without a backward glance.

Before I can answer, my phone rings from somewhere inside the room. I hunt around for it and find it in the pocket of my wet pants that are still in a heap on the bathroom floor.

I hit the green button. “Mom, I can’t talk right now.”

“Brandon, it’s your father. He’s had a heart attack.”

CHAPTER 28

Rose