“Just
tell her you’re not free. You don’t have to give her an excuse.”
“My
mother needs an excuse.”
“Your
mother is playing matchmaker?”
“Never.
She’s just having a hard time walking the line between convincing Mata’s
parents that their daughter is delusional, no relationship exists between us, and
starting a war in social media that will probably send the stock of our
corporation into the basement. These people play hardball. They’ve got this
attitude that they’re entitled to have anything they want. If that means
marrying into the corporation, then their darling daughter and I don’t have any
choice.”
A surge
of nausea went through me so strongly, I had probably turned green for a few
seconds, at least. The way he was talking about the bride-to-be’s family sounded
like the Grandstone clan. Reggie had publicly embarrassed himself last spring,
insisting he and Doni Halliday were sweethearts. Until it finally got through
his egotistical rock skull that his elusive bride was less than half his age.
It was the Grandstone tactic to marry into power and wealth if they couldn’t
lie or sue or intimidate to get what they wanted.
“Are you
okay?” Daniel asked.
Maybe I had
turned green, and it wasn’t just my imagination?
I
reflected back on the few times I had thought how he and Sylvia Grandstone were
perfect for each other. Before I got to know him. Maybe I had imagined Sylvia
around town the last few weeks because I was being so mean to Daniel? A guilty
conscience making me hallucinate? I scrambled to get my brain back on track.
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