Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Hey!” she says on the third ring.
“Alice!” I nearly sob with relief.
“Wren? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have a lot of time to explain,” I hiss into the phone, my eyes glued to my office door. “But Charles Montaque is in my building right now. He knows that Archer and I are married.”
“He…hold on. You two are married?” she growls. “Since when?”
“Um, since Vegas?”
“Jesus, Wren. Does Micah know?”
“No.”
“Fuck,” she mutters. “Don’t confirm anything to him, but let him in. We’ll see what he wants. Keep me on speaker.”
“Okay.” I inhale a panicked breath, trying to calm myself down. “I’m freaking out.”
“There’s no time for that. You need to breathe, and you need to act like you don’t have a care in the world. Don’t give him any fodder, Wren,” she instructs. “He’s looking for a way to redeem his reputation after the shit he pulled, trying to out Logan’s sister’s health issues. Do not let it be you.”
“Okay. Okay, I can do this.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself, but I have to do this. If Micah finds out about me and Archer from a reporter, he’ll never forgive us.
I put Alice on speaker, and set the phone on my desk, taking deep, calming breaths. Not even ten seconds later, Laura stops in the doorway with a man I recognize only from television. Charles Montaque. He’s smiling, but I immediately don’t like him. That smile is too false, his blue-eyed gaze too sharp.
“Mr. Montaque,” I say, motioning for him to come in. “You’re the last person I expected to see today.”
“Ms. Erikson.” He pauses, his expression hawkish. “Or is it Mrs. Graves?”
Laura’s eyes widen from the doorway.
“It’s Erikson,” I say before glancing at Laura. “Thanks for showing him back here. You can go now.”
Her expression slips, but she stomps away, leaving the two of us alone.
“Montaque, why are you harassing Micah’s sister?” Alice asks, taking him by surprise. “Didn’t you learn your lesson when you went after Logan’s sister?”
“Alice.” The way he says her name makes it obvious that he doesn’t like her much. It sounds like the feeling is mutual. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised she called you.”
“Of course she called me,” Alice snapped. “You’re a relentless little toad. Did you think she’d want to face you alone after everything you’ve done to her brother’s teammates lately?”
“I’ve only told the truth, Alice.”
“Right. And what truth do you think you’re trying to tell this time?”
“Were you aware that Wren and Archer Graves got married in Vegas twelve days ago?” he asks her.
I stare at him impassively, trying desperately not to give him a single reaction. Inside, my stomach is in knots, and my heart is pounding a million miles a minute. I feel like throwing up.
Alice laughs loudly. “I’m beginning to think you have no life of your own, Montaque. You spend so much time in everyone else’s business it’s honestly sad.”
“I’ll take that as a confirmation,” he says.
“I didn’t confirm anything. I made an observation about your unrelenting obsession with this team,” Alice retorts. “I’ve told you a million times, unless it involves hockey, you aren’t getting a comment from me about our players or their families. Are you done wasting Wren’s time now? She has a job to do.” She pauses. “An actual meaningful job.”
“About that…” Montaque meets my gaze. “Were you and Archer a couple before he founded this organization, Ms. Erikson? Or did your relationship develop after he became your employer?”
“What?” I gape at him, confusion churning through me. “Archer doesn’t…” I trail off when I see the self-satisfied, smug look on his face. Archer founded Helping Hands? How? Why?
Oh my god.
“Are you claiming you weren’t aware that his company founded Helping Hands, Ms. Erikson? I find that hard to believe. By all accounts, he’s your brother’s best friend. You’ve been seen out with him multiple times over the course of the last year.”
“It’s not a crime for her to spend time with her brother who, as you said, is Archer’s friend. He’s also his teammate, in case you’ve forgotten,” Alice retorts sharply. “Of course they’d be seen together. In the company of her brother. And Archer may have founded Helping Hands, but if you’ve done your research, you’re very well aware that he’s behind numerous charitable ventures in this city, all of which operate without his direct oversight or involvement. He provides funding where it’s needed. That’s it. So if I were you, I’d be very careful about defaming a beloved member of this team, Montaque. Your reputation isn’t in any condition to take another hit right now. His, however, has always been above reproach.”
My face is frozen in a mask of impassivity. But inside I’m a riot of screaming confusion. Archer founded Helping Hands? How is that even possible? We’re the charitable arm of a DC-based investment company, owned by a man who wanted to give back anonymously.