Chapter 9 I was running on caffeine, adrenaline, and spite. My body had no business being upright after the day I'd had. I'd been up since six this morning, survived a full day teaching eleven-year-olds who would rather do anything else than listen to their teacher. I rushed to the airport, sat through a two and a half hour flight, rode in a luxury SUV for an hour down to Tulum while fighting nausea from the winding roads and desperately trying to do my hair and makeup. And then walked into a nightmare with a man I absolutely shouldn't have been thinking about sleeping with, holding me up. And now I was having to smile like I didn't want to scream. But Matt didn't leave my side. Not for a second, not since the moment he'd appeared in front of me and kissed me like he had every right to - which, I supposed, right now, he did. I tried not to think about how I also had the right to kiss him in return. He moved with me through the crowd like we'd been doing this for years, with his hand low on my back and his voice warm and raspy in my ear when someone introduced themselves. His touch was casual but constant, guiding, grounding. Reminding everyone who looked at us exactly who I was with, who I supposedly belonged to. And he looked like the devil's gift to women everywhere while he did it. It was just a suit, just a stupid, tailored suit, but the way it fit him set my veins on fire. Black, soft, and perfect, with a crisp white shirt and a blood red tie. I wondered, briefly, how he'd known what I'd wear - but he must have known what I'd had altered at Regale. Still, though, I could have picked the black dress or the emerald one, and it made my stomach knot when I considered the idea that he knew me well enough to know I'd ramp up my outfits throughout the weekend. The champagne he'd placed in my hand with a muttered, "Don't drop this one," was fantastic, and I took a second glass when the server offered it from a tray a couple of minutes later. I let it loosen the coil in my chest just enough to feel like I could breathe, let it settle me like a balm. I still hadn't looked in Ryan's direction. I couldn't. I knew what direction he was in from the way Matt kept occasionally glancing, and I avoided it like the plague. "What are they doing?" I asked him as we stood near the open door that looked out at the dark water of the Caribbean, sipping my drink as a smirk crossed his lips. "She's avoiding looking at you," Matt chuckled quietly. "Like you are with her. And Ryan keeps looking like he's about to strangle one of us." "Are they standing with each other?" I didn't break eye contact with him. "No. She's with a few girls over by the fire pit behind you and to your left. They're all in oranges, think they're bridesmaids," he explained, absentmindedly reaching up to play with one of the waves hanging around my cheeks. "She's grinning. I'm pretty sure she's actively trying to pretend this isn't happening." I rolled my eyes. It was just like her to ignore me entirely, to keep going as if she hadn't systematically dismantled my life months ago-or rather, over a year ago when they first started sleeping together-and then erased me from hers. "And Ryan?" Matt snorted. "Ryan is currently standing alone at the bar for the first time all evening, staring at your back like he's both confused and mortified all at once. Probably thought you were here to crash the wedding until I walked up to you." "Did you warn him?" He shrugged. "Told him my girlfriend was arriving separately when I got here this morning. Didn't explain beyond that." A laugh bubbled up my throat as I thought about Ryan standing there, utterly perplexed at his brother having some kind of romantic life-because he absolutely would have been, knowing Ryan-and the crash it must have been to see that person be me. I covered my mouth, trying to suppress it, but Matt's hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled it down. "You're cute when you laugh," he said, but his voice wasn't low this time. Part of the act. My cheeks heated, but I let them, the alcohol making it easier to handle him. "Careful," I said quietly, tilting my head a little as I looked up at him. "You keep calling me cute and people might start thinking you actually like me." Matt's answering smile was lazy, far too confident, but his voice was lower when he spoke. "Well, we are trying to sell it, remember?" I blinked up at him, my brain exhausted and fried from work and my body lax from a couple of glasses of champagne, and let my eyes drop to his lips for a split second, to the stubble around them that he wore with pride and didn't bother to shave down all the way. "Then kiss me," I said, the words falling out before I'd thought them through. His smile turned devious. "Are you asking me because you want me to or because you want him to see it happen again?" I swallowed. "The latter," I said. "Obviously." Matt held my gaze for a second that felt like hours before he leaned down, his free hand wrapping fully around my waist, his mouth just an inch from mine. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a blanket, and just before I could force him to claim the final inch, he shifted. His lips pressed against my cheek. Gentle. Teasing. "Liar." I opened my mouth to respond, to tell him he was an asshole and absolutely wrong, but a voice that sent prickles of ice down my spine cut in before I even had the chance. "Sienna." Matt's hand tightened around the back side of my ribs. Slowly, like he was retreating from a predator, he lifted his head from where it nudged up against mine. And Ryan took up the entirety of my peripheral vision. His brown hair was styled and tousled, pushed back from his face for once. His cream suit was almost atrocious, sickening in a way that made me want to tell him how tacky it looked. But it was the scowl on his face that made me shrink back just a hair, almost imperceptibly, but Matt caught it. His fingers dug a little more into my ribs. "Didn't think I'd see you here," Ryan said, his eyes glancing at Matt before sliding back to me. The image of his legs tangled in the sheets of his bedroom, Lauren under him, her legs bent back like a fucking pretzel - it flashed in my head, just briefly, just enough to do mental damage before I could force a smile on my face. "Life's full of surprises," I said, my voice far steadier than I felt. Matt tucked me into his side the moment Lauren appeared on Ryan's right. "Baby, you didn't tell me you were going to talk to them," she mumbled, a fake grin plastered to her cheeks as she turned to me. "Hi, Sienna. So nice to see you. Why on earth are you here?" I gritted my teeth hard enough that I worried I'd crack a molar. Just straight into it, then. "She's with me," Matt said. "If that wasn't obvious." Ryan dragged his tongue over his teeth, looking between us like it was both the most confusing and obvious thing in the world. "So, you're what, dating?" "I'm pretty sure I told you my girlfriend was coming," Matt deadpanned. "So, yes." "And how long have you been seeing each other?" Matt shrugged, looking down at me as if I had a magic answer trapped between my teeth. "About a month," I said, which wasn't exactly wrong. That trip was almost five weeks ago. "A month," Lauren scoffed. "That's not exactly plus one⁠-" "I don't remember seeing any fine print on the invitation," Matt countered, lifting his glass of whiskey back to his lips. "Ridiculous," Ryan mumbled, dragging a hand down his face before staring between the two of us. "He's old enough to be your dad. Even with the age gap aside, it's a little hard to believe, don't you think?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "What, that someone could actually want me without lying about it for an entire year?" Lauren's mouth twitched, but she said nothing, turning her attention to Ryan instead, as if she was expecting him to lash out at that. But he didn't. Of course he didn't. Ryan never rose to anything when he was called out. All he did was turn back to Matt, meeting his gaze head-on, but Matt gave him none of that energy - if anything, Matt just looked bored. "Come on," Ryan said, chuckling as if all of this was hilarious. "How much did you pay her to be here? Seriously." A second passed. Two. Three. Matt didn't answer. "No one paid me," I lied, words flowing far more easily now. "Do you genuinely think any amount of money would sway me to be here? I'm here so that the man I'm seeing doesn't have to deal with his shithead brother alone. That's it." Matt smirked into his whiskey as his gaze briefly met mine. I didn't even have to decipher it - good job was written all over his face. Ryan looked at Matt again, studying him, staring him down. "You're fucking⁠-" "Do you really want to finish that sentence?" Matt asked, raising a brow. "Because I would suggest neither of you take issue with who I'm seeing." Another beat of silence. Ryan just stared up at him, a vein popping in his forehead, his jaw ticking. It wasn't even a threat, at least not really, but something about it got under Ryan's skin like nothing else had, something about it I clearly didn't understand. "Let's go," he muttered, turning to Lauren finally before pushing her toward the bar. I blinked in confusion. "What was⁠-" "I'll tell you later," Matt said, everything about him screaming calm as he leaned back on the door frame again, releasing his death grip on my waist. His knuckle dragged along my arm, his gaze lingering on my lips for half a second before flicking to my eyes. "You did a good job. Held your own." I rolled my eyes. "Did you think I wouldn't?" "'Course I didn't," he said, shaking his head as he downed the last of his whiskey. "Just knew it wouldn't be easy. Are you all right?" My brows knit together. "Huh?" "Are you okay?" he asked, trying to clarify. "That's the first time you've seen him, no?" "Oh," I breathed. "I⁠-" "You've had a long day," he added, voice low. "I wasn't expecting them to talk to us, at least not tonight. It's okay if you're not all right." The look he gave me was anything but a performance. There was no smirk, no heat in his eyes, nothing that told me he was looking for anything but the truth. His hand stilled on my arm, wrapping around my wrist and giving it a soft squeeze. "Sienna." "I'm fine." It wasn't a lie. I wasn't crying, I didn't feel a building need to scream - it was just blank. Empty. A little lonely, but a little pumped that I'd looked him in the eyes and said what I'd said. "Thought you weren't the empathetic type." A sly little grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Only when it serves me." I rolled my eyes and downed what was left of my champagne. "That was almost nice of you. Just had to go and ruin it." ---- By the time we'd reached the villa, the air had cooled enough to take the edge off the lingering warmth of the day. Moonlight danced off the water of the ocean and the private pool and palm trees framing the lot around it and swaying in the night breeze. We stepped off the wooden walkway lit by torches between the villas in silence and walked up to the front door. The white exterior and thatched roof gave nothing away, but it was definitely one of the larger ones on the property, if not the largest. He opened the door and let me walk in ahead of him, his hand brushing the small of my back again, so lightly I couldn't decide if it was intentional or just a habit at this point. Inside, everything was quiet, peaceful, like nothing had been disturbed. Like I was in some kind of sanctuary away from the living hell outside of these walls. The soft hum of central air conditioning was the only sound, the low glow of the strip lighting along the floor the only thing giving me some idea of what the space actually looked like. Matt set his keycard down by the door and shut it behind him. "This way," he said softly, nodding toward the hall. We passed a fairly cozy sitting room and an open kitchen, the back door that led out to the pool, a bathroom. He lifted a hand to a door as we walked, his finger gently tapping against it. "Zach's in here," he said quietly, then turned to the one across from it. "And his nanny, Margot, is that one. In case you end up wandering in the middle of the night." I paused, stopping in the hall to look at him. "Zach's here?" Matt's brows scrunched together for a second. "Did you think I was going to leave my kid for three days if I didn't have to?" "I..." I blinked at him. "I don't know what I thought." He studied me for a second before he blew out a breath. "I'll introduce you in the morning. Come on." He ushered me further down the hall, passing another door on his right and briefly mentioning that it was his room, before we got to the dead end with a door right in the center. "This one's you⁠-" "He's five, right?" I asked, turning back to him and cutting him off. Matt huffed out an amused breath. "Five going on sixteen," he said, his lip curling into a half-hearted smile. "You should lock your door tonight, though. I'm not entirely convinced he knows where my room is, and you probably don't want a five-year-old gremlin ending up in bed with you if he has a nightmare." I snorted. "He's not the one I'm worried about opening my door at two in the morning." Matt blinked at me, his smile morphing into a smirk. "You think I'm going to be the problem? You were the one asking me to kiss you earlier." "I'm begging you not to let that go to your head," I said, pushing open the door to my room. I stared at the space in front of me - it looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel and not a rented villa on a massive property in Tulum. A king bed with white linen and a woven canopy, a chaise lounge by the glass doors, a view of the ocean so stunning it didn't look real. Matt stayed in the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold. "Everything you need should be in there," he said, polite now, all business, his teasing gone and grin faded. "If you need anything specific, just let me know and I can call the concierge." I stepped inside, trying to process, but it didn't seem correct. The longer I saw it, the more nothing about this wedding made sense, from the location to the villas to the tacky decorations and over-the-top everything. "How...?" Matt met my gaze as I turned back to face him. "How did Ryan afford this? Not this," I gestured to the villa around us. "This is obviously you. But that. The wedding, the resort, the gaudy floral arches, and gold lettering and whatever the hell else is happening for the three days we're here. Lauren's not wealthy by any means, and Ryan's-well, we both know Ryan." Matt didn't even hesitate. "He wasn't the one who paid for it." "...What?" "I did." I stared at him. That-That was in line with what Matt had tried to claim about support accounts and Ryan burning through money while having none of his own. But it didn't match anything Ryan had told me. It didn't mesh with the story I'd gotten from him of a cold, angry brother who hated him and had stolen every bit of money he was owned and dangled it over his head. "I don't understand," I murmured, shaking my head to try to clear my thoughts. "I don't get any of this. Whatever the money situation is with him, it makes no sense. Your version doesn't either. Why would you keep giving him money if it wasn't because you stole it and needed to trickle it to him? Why... why would he-" I cut myself off, not even sure where I was going, my head swimming from the champagne and the adrenaline and just how long my day had been. Matt took a step over the line. Not enough to touch me, not enough to invade my space, but enough that I could smell his cologne again, could see the sharp edge behind his eyes that wasn't playful anymore. "I didn't take anything from him. I froze a handful of assets at most," he said, voice low and deliberate. "He lied to you. Just like he lied to everyone else." I froze as he took another step. "He had access to everything, Sienna," Matt continued. "And he burned it. I've spent years bailing him out, years covering for him. But sure. Go ahead and believe his version if it makes him easier to love." I recoiled a bit. "I don't love him." Something in him softened, just a fraction, and the tension that had appeared a second ago started to ease. "No," he said calmly, holding my gaze. "But you did. And you believed him then. Maybe that's still easier for you than admitting who he really is." Silence flooded us like a wave. My throat tightened, my fingers twisting in the silk of my dress. "I can give you proof, if that matters to you," he murmured, taking another step, crowding me, breathing my same air. "I can show you what kind of man he is, what kind of man I am." My heart thudded in my chest, slamming against my ribs, too loud, too reckless. "I'm not sleeping with you," I breathed, the only words I could possibly think of spilling out of my mouth. His smirk returned, splitting across his lips slowly and infuriatingly. "You keep saying that," he drawled. "Which one of us are you trying to convince, sweetheart?" He waited a second longer before he took a step back, turned, and walked out my door, leaving it open behind him, leaving me there, leaving the space cold with my pulse in my throat and confusion whirring in my head.