PENELOPE
Security escorted Detective Wallace out, and I watched the door slam shut behind him. I turned slowly to face Christian, who stood exactly where he had before—his hands were shoved deep in his pockets like he was holding something in.
“What the hell was he talking about?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
Christian blinked, as if startled I’d spoken. “He’s fishing. That’s all.”
My eyes didn’t leave his face. “Fishing for what? Christian… did you have anything to do with Daniel Crest’s death?”
His jaw tightened. “You think I’d kill a man over something he said at our wedding? Moreover about your mother? Or are you forgetting how much I hated you both from the start.”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“That’s exactly what it sounds like,” he cut in, his voice rising. “Exactly how
