C22, PT. 5

She glimpsed high ceilings, a roaring fire, and towering bookshelves before Roth backed her against a wall and leaned in.

“I thought I told you I wanted to get through the night without a fucking scene.”

“He,” she began hotly, but fell silent when he pounded the wall with his fist.

“I had plans for him,” he said, eyes seething. “Plans I now have to discard because you forced me to play my hand.” He shoved himself away from her and ran a hand through his hair. “You have no fucking clue what’s at stake.”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

He stiffened at the quiet challenge, hands balling into fists at his sides as he glared at her. “I have my share of enemies, but saving Hennessy & Co means I’ve taken on your father’s as well. The feud I had with Maximus was child’s play compared to what’s happening now. The only way out of this is through alliances, which you jeopardized by pulling that stupid stunt.”

“You didn’t have to follow me!”

He cocked his head. “And how would it look if I continued conducting business while my wife gets in a shouting match with her half-sister’s grandfather?”

Convicted, but unwilling to give in completely, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me Cecil was investigating you?”

“What difference would that make if you’d known?”

She slumped against the wall in defeat, acknowledging all she could have done was fret and pester him about it. “I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t, but you will be.”

That ominous promise brought her gaze to his for a split second before she looked away. “I really am sorry—”

“When I tell you to leave something alone, I mean it. You went over there looking for a fight. You knew how Cecil would react to the slightest provocation. When are you going to realize your sisters don’t need your help? They have far more experience in this arena and more sense than to retaliate in this setting. Even under the influence, Ariana has more tact than you.” He paced, shaking his head. “You’re too emotional. Either you’re on the verge of falling apart or on a war path. You think you’re helping when they were better off before your interference.”

He stopped in front of a stone fireplace while she stood motionless against the wall. Firelight danced over his face as he stared into the flames. For a full minute, neither of them said anything, and then she whispered, “What can I do?”

“You’ve done enough,” he said coldly, eyes still on the fire. “I gave you too much credit, believing you could play this role as well as your sisters. It’s no wonder Maximus didn’t bring you to many events. You’re a loose cannon.”

Her eyes welled up, but he didn’t notice as he headed for the door.

“I’m tempted to send you home, so there won’t be any more incidents, but I think that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I need to smooth things over with Christoph and salvage what I can of this night. Stay here until I come for you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, but closed the door behind him. He excelled at making an exit… and making her feel petty and foolish. He was right. She’d known exactly what would happen when she rushed across the room to confront Cecil. She hadn’t expected it to escalate the way it had, but she’d known it wouldn’t end well, and hadn’t cared. Her need to protect her sister was an ingrained compulsion she acted on without a thought for the consequences or cost to herself. Roth getting involved hadn’t crossed her mind, but it should have. Everyone would expect him to defend her if she ended up arguing with someone.

Comparing her to her sisters was a low blow and far too reminiscent of her father’s constant disappointment in her. Roth thought he acquired a proper society wife, but she had never achieved the level of control and composure her sisters or Charlotte possessed. She could blend in for a while, but it was only a matter of time before she was identified as an imposter. Tucker saying she didn’t belong was one thing. Roth agreeing tore her to shreds. She’d always known she didn’t belong here. That’s why she tried to find someone outside of it so she wouldn’t have to return. Whatever confidence the night had granted her washed away like a sand castle at high tide.

She bent over at the waist, so her tears would drop straight to the floor instead of coursing down her cheeks and ruining her makeup. She was grateful he left so she wouldn’t prove him right by crying in front of him. Too emotional. How many times had she heard that from her family? Tears rained down on a plush carpet the color of red wine.

Roth was right. No one needed her help. She took it upon herself to cut a deal with him to save the company when all her sisters asked was if she could get him to speak to them. She should have walked away instead of thinking she was doing what was best for everyone. If she hadn’t taken it upon herself to “fix” everything, she would be unmarried and enjoying a quiet Christmas at Tuxedo Park and writing her book instead of attending the Trentham Ball and browbeating herself over her lack of impulse control and social grace. She was her own worst enemy.

What if she wasn’t supposed to save the company? Lyle thought Hennessy & Co was tainted, cursed. Was it the root cause of Ariana’s drug problem? It had been a main point of contention in Lyle and Colette’s marriage. And because of their deal, Roth was now under siege. If her sisters lost the company (as Lyle hoped), they wouldn’t suffer. On the contrary, their husbands would be overjoyed that their wives could dedicate more time to their families. Was she so desperate to be needed that she inserted herself into this mess, fucking up everyone’s life in the process instead of letting it play out the way it was meant to? Self-loathing engulfed her. There was no one to blame for her current circumstances other than herself. What the fuck was wrong with her?

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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