Liar by Kristina Weaver Read Free Book Online Page B

moved fast to pantomime the actions so I wasn’t simply sitting there like a dummy.
    “Yes, but you retired and put me in charge,” Peter said, jocular, stuffing his mouth with a bite of something I only belatedly realized was filet mignon, which was also on my own plate. “You’ve got to step aside and let someone else earn the billions, Dad.”
    As Frank chuckled and responded, a dull roar built in my ears. Why hadn’t I realized it before? What was perhaps even more of a pressing issue than the fact that I’d slept with my impending stepbrother was that I’d slept with a billionaire.
    Peter. Was. A. Billionaire.
    He’d been wearing nicer clothes than anyone I’d ever encountered at my bar. He’d taken me to one of the city’s newest nightspots and had no trouble getting in — or getting us seated at the nicest table in the place. He’d footed the bill for all of our dozens of drinks, the total probably well in the hundreds, judging by the quality of the spirits and the atmosphere of the establishment. And we’d departed Citrus Meridian for a stay in a luxurious hotel, in a room that he’d continued to pay for just to let me sleep in.
    I felt duped for some reason, lied to, cheated, but none of those emotions made sense. It wasn’t as if I’d asked him to his face if he was a billionaire. Peter hadn’t been under any obligation to reveal that fact about himself. But I should’ve asked more questions, should’ve at least asked him what he did for a living, but all I could do was blather on and on about my pathetic life, which had somehow become even more of a tragedy.
    My mother was marrying into serious money, and I was wearing an outfit that had been put together partially from the contents of a dumpster.
    “Gemma?” Peter asked gently. I blinked quickly at him, then looked around to see Frank politely staring at me and my mother all but glaring.
    “Sorry, what?” I noticed that I hadn’t so much as cut into my filet mignon, and hurriedly stabbed it with my fork to do so. “I didn’t hear you — I was miles away.” I stuffed a huge bite into my mouth to give myself a little more time to get over my shock at recent revelations.
    That I’d slept with my soon-to-be stepbrother, who was a billionaire.
    “I think we work Gemma a little too hard,” Peter said, giving a sympathetic glance to my mother. “She is so very dedicated to the job.”
    “She’s always flying off to one meeting or another, or an event in the evening,” my mother complained good-naturedly. “She barely has time to call her own mother. Half the time, I can tell she’s rushing around, her mind in some other place.”
    “How’s this?” Peter suggested. “A week’s vacation, paid, of course, and I’d love to suggest a wonderful hotel for you, Lydia and Dad, to stay in the city and sightsee with Gemma here. I think it’d be a marvelous way to get reacquainted with one another, and you could think of it as part of my wedding gift to you all.”
    My mother gave a rapturous gasp. “Oh, Gemma! What do you think? We could start wedding planning and see all of New York! I haven’t been to see the Statue of Liberty since I was a girl!”
    I’d never been to see the Statue of Liberty because if I wasn’t at work, I wasn’t earning money. That had been one of my fibs to my mother, though, to assure her that I was having a smashing good time in the city. I hadn’t seen any of the major attractions the Big Apple had to offer since I’d been here.
    “I think that’s too generous,” I told Peter. “We’re awfully busy at work. I don’t know if I could take the time off.”
    “I insist,” Peter said. “Really. A wedding is something to be celebrated, and you should really reconnect with your mother.”
    I stamped on his toe under the table. “Aren’t you going to need me to be at work? A whole week seems excessive.” If my mother was going to be in the city for an entire week and I wasn’t able to be at work,