GRIFFIN
Did you really think she wouldn't eventually move on?
I stare at Aaron. Minutes pass as his one sentence repeats itself in my head like a broken record.
Did I think that?
I had asked her to leave two years ago. I had told her we were nothing anymore. I had blamed her and asked her to leave and she had let me.
No she didn't. She begged me to let her explain.
Explain what? That the recording her uncle played wasn't her? She couldn't say that. Because it was her. I couldn't deny what was plausible and the evidenced truth.
But no, I didn't fucking think she would move on. For some reason I did not once think about the prospect of her wanting to spend her life another person. Or move on. Or get married.
Maybe I didn't think she would because I couldn't imagine anyone else in that role in my life. No one else could ever be where I had placed her. I didn't understand how people casually dated then broke up and then dated someone else.
I had given her that part of me, even if it was just a ruse to her, and no one else would ever have it again. And I never thought about her doing it either.
My chest stings.
"Brother." Aaron says.
"I don't know Aaron." I grit my teeth.
"Well, get to know. Because you're not stopping her marrying someone else just to say 'I hate you, don't ever show me your face'." He rolls his eyes. "If it's not Arthur, it'll be someone else. Unless you have a better reason to stop that from happening." He stands, and with a nod, walks out.
I stare at the empty doorway.
He is right.
For the first time in his life Aaron is making sense. Somehow it's more annoying than his usually stupid self.
So, I needed a good reason to stop them from going through with the marriage?
I'll find a goddamned reason if I have to. But under no circumstance is Ariel marrying Arthur Hale. Or anyone else.
_______________
"Nothing of note happened at dinner." Alessandro says as he sips his bourbon later that night.
"I'll be the judge of that." I gesture for his informant to start talking. "I want all details of the two's interactions. Don't skip any parts."
"Ms. Russo greeted him, and he kissed the back of her hand in greeting." I wince, a burning sensation spreads through my chest. "They moved to dinner, sat next to each other, talked only about a sentence or two. Mr. Hale was trying to make conversation but the miss seemed tense and uncomfortable." My own muscles tense at that.
"Why? Was he doing something inappropriate?" My fists clench.
"No, he was respectful as far as I could tell." The informant squirms under the heat of my anger.
