“Exactly! She calls you whenever she can. You’re all she thinks about!” Their earnest faces would have convinced anyone. Anyone who didn’t already know the truth.
Across the room, Carter sat in the corner. Slowly, he stood, his face smug with satisfaction. “Henry,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Our eyes locked, and the undisguised hostility in his gaze was palpable. If Scarlett weren’t here, he wouldn’t have bothered to put on the charade.
At the dinner table, Scarlett played the perfect wife, peeling shrimp for me, filling my plate, and speaking with a sweet, gentle tone. The rest of the team cooed and teased us like we were a couple from a romance novel.
But Carter’s expression darkened as he drank glass after glass of liquor, his mood sinking further with each sip.
After three rounds of drinks, even I felt slightly lightheaded.
Carter stumbled out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake. Moments later, Scarlett received a message. She abruptly stood up, her cheeks and earlobes turning crimson.
When she noticed my questioning gaze, she quickly composed herself, forcing a calm tone.