by Gage Grayson
Part of me can’t quite believe it—that Rose could be so great a liar that I hadn’t suspected a thing from her. That I allowed her to string me along for nearly three weeks.
I don’t let anyone string me along.
And, not just that; she was working for Oberon Lawson. That just makes it sting all the more.
Rose lets out a burst of expletives for (seemingly) nobody to hear, so I choose that moment to enter the house.
“I’m absolutely fucking fucked,” she says.
“Yes, I’d say that you are.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rose look as horrified as she does the moment she realizes that Erik Storm has overheard her entire, traitorous conversation.
14
Rose
Erik Storm overheard my conversation with Oberon Lawson.
Erik Storm overheard my conversation with Oberon Lawson.
Erik Storm overheard my conversation with Oberon Lawson.
It doesn’t matter which part of the statement I emphasize—they’re all equally awful.
It’s exactly as I said out loud. I’m fucking fucked.
I stare at Erik, wide-eyed and nervous.
“Erik, how long have you—”
“What does it matter, Rose?” Erik interrupts. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so furious.
The two of us are silent for a minute; I can’t seem to find the courage to speak. Eventually, Erik breaks the silence.
“How long have you been working with Lawson?”
“Erik—”
“Just answer the fucking question.”
I pause before answering. My meeting with Oberon had been about a legitimate business deal. But, after the morning I had spent with Erik, I knew things had to change.
If I were to have three blessed days with Erik before telling him about the deal, I damn sure wanted it to be that when I did tell him, the deal was well and truly off.
So, I had decided to use my meeting with Oberon to tell the man as much. And, just because Oberon had brushed off what I was saying, doesn’t mean I didn’t say it.
If Erik overheard the entire conversation, then he must know I was trying to call off the deal. That’s got to count for something.
Right?
“Erik, did you hear me—”
“Answer the fucking question!” Erik bellows. I take a step back, horrified by the volume and fury of his voice and the look of abject betrayal on his face.
Erik definitely didn’t hear me trying to cut the deal off, then.
Which means all he heard was a pathetic woman trying to weasel more money out of the exact type of man she purported to hate. All to screw Erik over.
I must look like the worst person in the world to him. Because I am.
I sigh heavily. Resigned to my fate, I answer Erik’s question.
“A few months,” I reply quietly, eyes on my feet. Then I look up, pleading with Erik to believe me. “I was trying to call the whole deal off—I didn’t want to be part of it anymore, I—”
Erik holds a hand up to stop me from talking, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other as he tries to take in everything going on.
I take a step towards him, but Erik glares at me.
“Don’t come near me, Rose.”
“Erik, don’t be like this! I was just—”
“Doing your job. You were just doing your job. I get it. But you didn’t have to literally fuck me over in the process. You could have been honest about things from the start.”
I feel tears threatening to surface, my eyes stinging with the effort to keep them back.
“Erik, I wanted to tell you when we—after the—the wedding—”
He turns, storming over to loom at me. I can’t help but shrink back.
A furious Erik Storm—a man a full foot taller than me—is a terrifying sight to behold.
“Oh, so you were fine with lying to me for two weeks? You only started feeling bad after I screwed you?”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds—”
I pause. It sounds exactly the way it will always come across. And, it isn’t untrue. But, everything that’s happened between me and Erik over the past two days has changed everything. I just can’t seem to work out how to vocalize that.
Erik stares down at me, searching my face for some kind of explanation, but I’m at a loss for words. I can’t break away from his demanding, manic gaze.
“It was for my family,” I eventually say in a small, small voice. “I’m sorry. I thought you were like every other rich guy I’d worked with. I feel differently about it—and you—now.”
And then the tension breaks; Erik takes a few steps away from me and runs a hand over his face.
He’s—exasperated. Defeated.
I start crying.
“Erik, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“Just…save it. I get it.”
Neither of us says anything for a while. The only noise is me sobbing on the spot, though I try desperately to quell my tears.
I fail.
“I’m assuming Lawson was offering you too much money to refuse,” Erik eventually says, his voice soft. “Anyone would do what you did to financially secure their family.”
“But, what you’re doing means so much more than just keeping my family financially secure, Erik!”
“It’s a bit late for that, Rose. Oberon has his land. He’s won. I can’t do anything. I’m sure my board will be thrilled when I come back to New York with my tail between my legs, my attempts at a humanitarian effort thoroughly thwarted.”
My God. I hadn’t even thought about how much Erik probably had to fight to get his plan approved. I haven’t just betrayed the man on a personal level—I’ve crushed everything he ever wanted his company to stand for.
I’ve ruined everything.
Erik turns and walks towards the door. I rush after him.
“Erik, don’t go!”
“And, do what? Waste more of my time on this fucking place? Do you know how behind I am on my work because of the time I’ve spent here? I have to work out how to explain this to my board!”
I reach my hand out towards him.
“But—but…”
But, I don’t have anything else to say. How could I? I thought of nobody, but my family. Nobody, but me.
Erik didn’t deserve anything I did to him, and yet, I did it all, regardless.
Silently, I drop my hand back down to my side.
“I understand. I’m sorry.”
Erik spares me a glance, and gives me a smile, but it’s forced and fake.
“It’s fine. It’s just business, right? It’s always been just business. Nothing to cry over. I’ll just find myself another real estate agency to work with—see if there’s anything Lawson hasn’t bribed his way into buying yet. I wish you all the best, Rose.”
And then, he’s gone, leaving me with tears streaming down my face and—I’m just beginning to realize—a broken heart.
When did I fall in love with Erik Storm? I must have, because I don’t think my heart has ever hurt this much before. I fell in love, just in time to lose it.
And I only have myself to blame.
15
Erik
Three days back in New York, and it becomes apparent that my dream for the Hamptons is precisely that—a dream.
No real estate agent can offer me any land or property in Verona Falls.
Not one single agency.
I’ve got to hand it to Oberon Lawson—he’s really pulled out all the stops to gain a monopoly in the area. And, I realize, with a sting, that Rose played no small part in that.
How many other wannabe property-owners had Rose kept at bay for Oberon’s sake? I can’t help but wonder. Though, considering the length and breadth of both mine and Oberon’s land procurement requirements, I somehow doubt there could have been many other potential rival clients, if there were any at all.
So, I was likely the only one she kept frozen out. That, uns
urprisingly, doesn’t make me feel any better.
At least one thing has finally been cleared up for me: no wonder the smarmy bastard Oberon kept looking at Rose during the wedding. He must have loved seeing her as my date, knowing that she was stringing me along—in more ways than one.
So, was the sex just part of Rose upping the ante against me to keep me distracted?
I shake my head—our sexual chemistry was definitely not fabricated. And that night at Chimi’s…I can’t believe that was all false. I refuse to.
It felt too authentic.
But, if that’s the case, and Rose was telling the truth about how she had wanted to renege on her deal with Oberon after she knew my true intentions for Verona Falls—after she discovered I wasn’t like Oberon myself—then something becomes glaringly obvious:
I should have told Rose about what I wanted to do from the very beginning.
Had she known I had altruistic intentions, and that not only her family, but many of the families just like hers in the area would benefit, then perhaps Rose would have told me about Oberon’s deal earlier, and we could have worked together to get Rose out of the arrangement.
Hell, I’d have offered triple what Oberon was offering her, if Rose had insisted on monetary compensation. Something tells me that after three weeks of getting to know each other, it’s not something Rose would have asked for now, but back when we.first met, she quite possibly would have.
It’s not as if her doing any of this for money causes me to lose respect for her—far from it. She saw an opportunity to keep her family solid and secure for years to come, and she took it.
In her eyes, and in the eyes of the other Verona Falls locals’, it’s only a matter of time before they’re priced out of their apartments. I’d expect anyone in a situation like that to do what they needed to do to survive.
I sigh over my desk. It’s easy to say that I should have or would have done something, if the situation was different. It doesn’t matter that I don’t blame Rosefor what she did and wish that I had reached out to her earlier.
It’s too late.
Now, I have to tell my board that my plans will be shelved. They’ll be ecstatic. Sure, at least a few of them appreciate what I was trying to do, but the implication that I wanted to roll out affordable, low-cost housing across America frightened many of the members, I know.
So, for much of the board, my apparent failure will be a relief.
At least I don’t have to tell them for another three days. I have some buffer time to come to grips with the fact that my dreams for the company have gone up in figurative flames.
Just thinking about it makes me furious once more—why is it so damn difficult to do the right thing nowadays? The wealthy are so busy dangling spare change in front of the faces of those who need it that the very people you try to help are the ones who prevent you from helping them. It’s ridiculous.
I want to scream at Rose again. I want to tell her how stupid she was. How selfish she was.
I want to tell her that, had she not automatically looked down her nose at me from the beginning, the drama of the last few days could have been avoided.
But, just as quickly as the rage comes upon me, it dissipates.
I feel awful for shouting at Rosa. It’s all too easy for me to take the moral high ground when I’ve grown up privileged and wealthy.
And that’s not the only reason I feel bad about it.
I really cared for her.
I was well and truly attached to Rose. I had never met any other woman who could hold my attention for as long as she did. She was witty and intelligent and beautiful—and swore like a sailor, which somehow made her more endearing.
She may have had her guard up around me—and with good reason to do so, given her previous experience with overly rich men—but I also had my guard up. And mine had been unwarranted.
And has cost me everything.
I look at my phone. Had I destroyed things too much to give Rose a call? To try and repair whatever we could have had?
Probably.
At the end of the day, my original reason for being hesitant about engaging in a relationship with Rose still holds true—my life isn’t in the Hamptons. I would never have been able to commit to Rose the way I’d have wanted to, and Rose would be too professional to ask me to, anyway. We’d ultimately have gone our separate ways, no matter how this whole property debacle ended.
It was a pipe dream to believe that we could have made things work.
Sighing once more, I call my assistant in and ask them to get me coffee. The day has been positively dragging, and it doesn’t look likely that it’ll speed up, given my current train of thought.
Part of me wishes I had never asked Roseto be my date to that damn wedding. Because, at least that way, I wouldn’t have any personal feelings over the way we ended things.
I can’t get Rosa’s terrified face out of my mind—the way she looked at me when I was idiotic enough to loom over her in anger. She didn’t deserve that, and yet, I did it.
It’s probably for the best that things ended before they ever really began.
When my assistant hands me a black coffee, I nod my thanks as he vacates my office. I take a sip of the dark, hot liquid.
And almost spit it back out over my crisp, white shirt.
It’s disgusting. I longingly think of that coffee shop in Verona Falls—the one I had originally intended to replace once I found another one a little more off the beaten track.
How I want to punch the me who had thought that. That place had delicious coffee. What I wouldn’t give to have an Americano from there right now, rather than this filth my assistant gave me.
Clearly, I didn’t just leave Rose back in the Hamptons. I had gotten comfortable with my entire lifestyle while living there. A little too comfortable, given the keen sense of regret I now feel about leaving.
But it’s too late. I ruined everything. I can’t go back.
, which means Rose will forever believe I hate her, when my feelings are very much the opposite.
As far as romances go, both our timings couldn’t have been worse if we had planned it.
I glance at my computer screen; an internet tab is open with the Hampton Properties listing for that house with the hot tub in it. It’s now under offer.
Guess the owner got back from skiing, then.
And Oberon is going to have everything he wanted while I’m left with nothing.
Fuck him.
16
Rose
“What’s wrong, baby girl?”
“Mom, I’m not little anymore.”
“You’ll always be my little girl.”
I sigh heavily. I thought staying at my family home for a few nights would help me to forget about things—would help me feel better—but it hasn’t.
If anything, it’s made me feel worse. Much, much worse.
My mother would kill me if she knew what I had done in the name of ‘family’.
Not to mention the fact that I chased off a very eligible bachelor in the process. I don’t think my mom would ever allow me to live that down, if she knew.
Which is precisely why I will never tell her. I’ll take my shame to my grave.
Thank God my brothers are away for a few days. They’d probably put me in a headlock until I told them what’s wrong, and then there’d be nowhere to hide.
But I can’t hide my sighing from my mother. I have to feed her some kind of story to keep her off my back.
“I met a guy, mom.”
Her eyes light up immediately. “But that’s good news, Rose! Or—Rose, don’t tell me he’s already married? You’ll get nowhere chasing after—”
“Oh my God, mom, stop escalating! That’s not it!”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Another sigh from me. “He was single. And a good guy. But I…messed things up. And, I don’t think I can fix it.”
My mother’s eyes narrow at me.
“But do you
want to fix it? Or are you going to sit around sighing over it and doing nothing?”
Oh, that stings. My mother knows full well that I’m not typically one to back down from a challenge. Which means…
Why am I backing down from this one? I could still make things right, at least for Erik’s business dreams.
My mother smiles when she sees the change of expression on my face. She hold my hands in her own.
“I know you’ll do the right thing, baby girl,” she says, and then sighs to herself. “God only knows you could do with a man who’ll put up with you and your sailor’s tongue.”
“Mom!”
She holds her hands up in feigned resignation. “You’re a handful, Rosa. That’s all I’m saying. And it’s not a bad thing. But if a man comes along who can match you, then what are you doing crying to your mother instead of doing something about it?”
I pause, considering my answer.
“I guess I was just a little…afraid, is all. I’ve not exactly held down a long-term relationship before.”
“Ahh, you’re telling me! Your poor mother will be cold in her grave before any of her children marry!”
I chuckle. “You know that both of your sons are playboys, yes?”
“People can change, Rose. Or, at least, I have to believe that, for the sake of seeing any grandchildren…”
I wrinkle my nose. The idea of giving my mother a grandchild is so far-flung a notion that it doesn’t seem real. I don’t think I even want kids. Certainly not with how expensive the Hamptons is, at least.
Suddenly, my mother sits up from the table.
“What are you doing, Mom?” I ask.
She looks at me pointedly. “I have things to do. Get out of the kitchen and stop moping. Go make up with this man.”
There’s a pause.
“Is he rich?”
“Mom.”
“An honest question! Tell me, at least: is he handsome?”
Of course, my mother wants to know that. I’m tempted to not dignify the question with a response, but I can’t hide the small smile playing across my lips.