But instead of being affectionate or salacious, he looks agitated when he pulls back.
An alarm bell clangs in my head. Dennis again? “What’s wrong?”
Elliot takes a step back. “The details of the deal behind our marriage became public half an hour ago. And it’s trending.”
“What are you talking about?”
He hands me his phone. I read the article.
GREEDY BILLIONAIRES CLAMOR FOR MORE, the headline proclaims in capital letters.
The rest is just as lurid, but the basis for the ridiculous spin is accurate. It details the deal Julian has with his children, and how Ryder and Elliot married already to get paintings that are worth millions.
Why marry for a reason as crude as money when they already have so much? the article asks toward the end.
“Oh my god, how did they find out?”
“My guess is Annabelle Underhill. Paige said she seemed to know.”
“Is this some kind of payback for the exposé?”
“Probably.” Elliot puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me gently toward him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. What are we going to do?” I hug him, drawing strength from his warmth. “Oh my god, Elizabeth. She’ll be hounded by men. And your brothers…”
“Lucas and Blake can handle themselves. But Elizabeth…” Elliot runs a hand over his face. “Yeah.”
“How’s Nonny?” Given that she hasn’t come out to greet me, she can’t be reacting well.
“She’s at a friend’s. Maria, I think. But first things first.”
He leads me to the dining room. Chinese takeout with my favorite sweet and sour chicken and shrimp fried rice is waiting for me. He has duck and some stir-fried greens.
“You actually want to eat?” I ask incredulously.
“Can’t fight on an empty stomach. Sit down.” He pulls out a chair. “Please.”
I sit. He’s right; not eating will only hurt me. He opens the sweet and sour chicken and pushes it my way, along with some utensils.
“How are we going to fight?” I ask. “The deal is true.”
He points to my food. “Eat, woman.”
Making a face, I pop a piece into my mouth.
Only then does he say, “We have to make people believe it’s not true.”
“You’re going to lie?”
“We don’t have to lie. The premise that our father is forcing all of us to marry in the next six months to i
nherit the paintings is already pretty far-fetched.”
“But true.”
“That’s not the point.”
I think it kind of is the point, but ask, “Okay, so what are you going to do?”