‘I understand that.’ She was quiet for a long time. ‘My work’s done the same for me.’
‘For how long?’
Her eyebrow quirked. ‘Since I turned sixteen.’
‘You wanted to work since you were sixteen?’
‘No. I found purpose in work when I was sixteen. That’s when my parents got divorced.’
He didn’t answer, only waited for more. She was walking before she spoke, her gait smooth, elegant, as if she walked runways instead of streets. Part of him wanted to blame it on her upbringing. Wealth made people believe the world was theirs to claim, much as models did the runway. But something deep inside him resisted. Her upbringing might have taught her that, but somewhere along the way she’d learned to earn the world, too. At least her part of it. Everything he knew about her from the last two days they’d spent together pointed to it.
‘I’m not the kind of person who almost kisses another man when they’re supposed to be engaged,’ she said. ‘I need you to know that.’
He studied her. ‘Then what kind of person are you?’
Her mouth twisted. ‘A pawn in a powerful man’s game.’
* * *
‘What do you mean?’
She wanted to close her eyes and sink to the floor. The evening had taken so much of her energy. As had discovering her father and Jameson had planned an engagement party and invited the entire world before she’d even given her answer.
Because they think they already know your answer.
And why wouldn’t they? Her father was used to using his power over her as a bargaining tool in her life. His money, when she’d needed something at school and he’d tell her to attend some event in return. To pretend the divorce hadn’t changed their perfect little family, even though her mother was halfway across the world. When she’d got a scholarship that paid for university and accommodation and she no longer needed his money, he began to use her need for his love. He’d promised a dinner, to accompany her to a social event, to put in a good word for her at a potential employer. She needed his approval so much she would accept anything from him, despite how terrible it made her feel after.
Because she was compromising to get it. Her values, her independence, herself. This latest request was the biggest, and her father was pulling out all the stops to get her to agree. Threatening her job, promising her security, implying his approval. It wasn’t worth it, she knew, but it was tempting. She didn’t want to lose the life she’d spent almost a decade building. She didn’t want to lose her chance of her father ever truly loving her.
Now there was Micah, complicating it all with his power over her. Because he had some. Why else was she there, trying to explain herself to him? Why else did she still want to kiss him? To let him hold her and make her feel powerful again?
It was a trap. It couldn’t be anything else. And it was bound to make her feel as terrible as giving in to her father did.
‘You’re a powerful man, Micah. You know you play games. Use people.’
Anything she could have read on his face was covered by a blank expression. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
That wasn’t the reaction she had expected. She’d expected denial, or confusion. Genuine confusion, not this practised nonsense he was going for.
An uncomfortable feeling slithered down her spine. It hissed in her ears, saying I told you so.
‘What are you hiding?’ she asked softly.
‘I’m not hiding anything.’
‘Yes, you are.’ She took a step closer. ‘And it has to do with me.’
He didn’t reply, only watched her with a guarded expression. She blinked, and stumbled back. It did have something to do with her. And if she took the rest of the conversation into account, it meant he was using her, too. But for what?
It didn’t matter. The only thing that did was knowing she couldn’t trust him.
She hated that it sent a crack rippling through her heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELENA’S SECOND FULL day in Rome wasn’t as exciting as the first. She spent the majority of it tailing Micah to his meetings. She’d expected it—that was what had been on the itinerary, and Serena had invited her to join him—and she’d brought her observation A game. She was quiet, discreet, and only spoke when spoken to. She was doing exceedingly well, actually, which was why Micah’s stony expression whenever he spoke to her annoyed the hell out of her.
Actually, no. The real reason she was annoyed was because he was treating her as if she were the one keeping secrets. And she was sure it wasn’t only keeping secrets either. His reaction to her questions the night before told her there was more there. She had set it aside though. She was a professional, after all. Except him showing everyone his disapproval of her made them both look unprofessional. She would have told him that, too, if she’d had any time alone with him that day.
But his meetings were back to back. When they had to change venues, they went in different cars, something she was sure he’d arranged. All of it made her annoyance grow. She stewed in it. Plotted her revenge. It wouldn’t be sophisticated, but it would be satisfying. Like throwing her tablet at Micah. She would love to see his expression after that. But logic told her tablets were expensive—and so was Micah—so she settled for fantasising about his defeat instead.
They were supposed to have dinner at the end of the day, but Elena ducked out of it. She didn’t want to socialise with him. She’d got enough information on his business habits during that day to write her article. Serena had sent her information about his charity work, and with the personal information Elena had got on the plane and in the restaurant, she could write a decent article. A good article. She didn’t have to spend any more time with him. She relished that.
Her phone rang. Her finger hovered over the denial button, but it was Jameson calling now, not her father’s office. He was the lesser of the evils. Besides, she had some things to say to him now that she’d processed the news of the party a bit more.
‘Where have you been?’ he said as soon as she picked up. ‘We’ve been trying to get a hold of you.’
‘Hello, Jameson. How are you?’
‘Busy. Work and...’ There was a pause. ‘Stuff.’
‘Yes, stuff,’ she said slowly. ‘Like the party you and my father are planning to announce our engagement at?’
‘Elena—’
‘It’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?’ she continued, ignoring what would surely be some form of manipulation. ‘Or is it strategic? I’m not in the country, so you can plan your party without my protests.’
‘Elena.’ Jameson’s voice was sharp now. ‘Your hysteria is helping no one. Calm down.’
She almost swore at him. Barely caught the words before they jumped from her lips.
‘We were merely moving things forward.’
‘Moving me forward, you mean.’
‘Your father assured me your answer would be in the affirmative.’
‘I’m sure he did,’ she murmured, her anger changing from sharp heat to something...cold. ‘Is that why he’s been trying to get a hold of me, then?’
‘Having confirmation from you would be helpful.’
Not to me.
So say no, another voice said in her head.
And she wanted to listen to it. She wanted to say those words. But they wouldn’t leave her lips, no matter how hard she tried. Something entirely different came out instead.
‘I’m working,’ she said woodenly. ‘So you’ll have to wait a little longer for that confirmation.’
He cursed. ‘You’re prioritising that man over me? Your future husband?’
‘It’s not about a man.’ And you might not be my husband. ‘It’s about my job, and the fact that anyone could have got this assignment, but they gave it to me.’
‘They gave it to you
because you’re a John. You don’t have to prove yourself, if that’s why you’re doing this. You already have.’
She didn’t bother to reply. Jameson would think that her worth was solely in her surname. It made Micah’s assumption of the same on the day they met worse. She didn’t indulge her thoughts about why that was. Accepted that she was raw when it came to Micah and left it at that.
‘It’s not a huge leap to assume Williams asked for you,’ Jameson continued, apparently not caring that she hadn’t responded. Though the way he hit the nail on the head felt like a whip against her heart. ‘He probably thinks you’re his key to partnering with the John Diamond Company.’ Jameson laughed. ‘Our engagement will secure my and your family’s partnership though, so he’ll quickly realise having you there was for nothing.’
For one horrifying moment, she thought she would gasp. Her head swirled, and she stumbled back to the bed, lowering so she had support for the knees that had gone shaky.
‘Elena? Are you there?’
Her training kicked in. The sixteen years before the life she knew had fallen apart consisted of her parents coaching her in the art of vulnerability. That was, to never be vulnerable. People would use it against her. Powerful people would use it against her.
Micah had used it against her.
‘Well, this has been lovely,’ she said, her voice sounding odd, even to herself. ‘We’re travelling to the country tomorrow, so I’ll be out of cell-phone range. Goodbye.’
She put down the phone before he could reply. She was about to switch it off for good measure when she saw a message from Micah.
Are you okay?
No. She wasn’t okay. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that to a man who was using her. Just like every other man in her life.
What had she done to deserve this? To deserve feeling this alone?
She gave herself a few minutes to wallow, then went to her laptop to write.
* * *
Elena was waiting for him at breakfast. She wore a pink headband, curls spiralling around her head behind it, along with a pants suit—black this time—and a top that matched the headband. Her lips were painted the same soft colour, but she wore no other make-up that he could see.
She looked up when he arrived, took her cell phone out, pressed some buttons, then put it away.
‘I emailed you the story I plan on submitting to my editor. It’s only due when I get back, so feel free to add your comments and email them to me before the end of the trip. I’ll apply them if they’re reasonable,’ she added with a warning glance.
‘You’re done?’
‘I was inspired last night.’ Her tone was flat.
‘Serena told me you had a headache. That’s why you didn’t come to dinner.’
‘I lied. I didn’t come to dinner because you acted like a jerk the entire day. I didn’t want to experience that for any longer than I had to.’ She stood. ‘Thank you for the opportunity to—’
‘Wait,’ he said, standing out of surprise. ‘You’re leaving?’
‘I am.’ Her spine straightened, as if she was daring him to argue with her. ‘I’m going to Venice.’
‘Why?’
‘A number of reasons. None of which,’ she added as he was about to ask, ‘I’d like to share with you.’
‘Okay, wait. Just...give me a second to catch up.’ He looked around desperately. ‘Coffee? Let’s have one coffee together.’
Her expression was emotionless. ‘Your driver is standing in the doorway, Mr Williams. If I remember correctly, your meeting starts in thirty minutes.’
‘Elena,’ he said sternly now. He softened his tone when her eyebrow rose. ‘I’m sorry. Just...please. Coffee?’
He didn’t know how long he waited for her to give the nod that eventually came. All he knew was he was offering to get coffee for them, even though a server could have done it. But he needed time to process. To ask himself why he hadn’t expected her to stand up for herself. Why he’d wasted a day that he could have spent with her.
His emotions. He didn’t know how to work through them. They’d shared a tense almost kiss; he’d seen her fit seamlessly into his world; and he’d discovered she was about to be engaged. He hadn’t been prepared for any of it. Then she’d come dangerously close to figuring out his plan and his instincts had told him to shut down. To protect himself. So he did. He’d spent an entire day trying to ignore her and being unable to because she was so damn vibrant and beautiful and he was pulled to her in a way he couldn’t understand.
Damn his parents, he thought suddenly, unexpectedly, furiously. If they hadn’t all but abandoned him, if they’d taught him how to engage with people, he wouldn’t feel so lost now. He would know what to do with his feelings. He’d be able to deal with them in healthy ways. He wouldn’t have sulked at Elena like a teenager because he liked her and didn’t want to.
He liked her.
Coffee slopped over the cup onto his hand, burning his skin much as that realisation burnt his heart. He set the mug down, gritted his teeth, though a part of him wanted to brace over the counter. But he wasn’t helpless; he could handle some feelings. With that thought, he refilled the liquid that’d spilled onto his hand, grabbed the other mug and went back to his table.
Elena didn’t speak, only watched him as she accepted the coffee, bringing it to her lips immediately.
He swallowed. ‘Elena—’
Her sigh cut him off. His eyebrows lifted before he could stop them.
‘I’m sorry, did my voice annoy you?’
She didn’t even pretend. ‘I don’t want an apology from you, Micah, which I can already see on your face is what you were planning on saying. I want to catch my train to Venice. I want to watch the green fields through the windows and enjoy the peace of not arguing with you.’
He studied her. There was something more going on.
‘This is why you didn’t reply to my message yesterday, isn’t it?’ he asked quietly. ‘You’re not okay.’
She closed her eyes. When she opened them, he sat back. He needed the support of his chair to understand what he saw there.
‘No, I’m not okay. But you’re part of the reason I’m not, Micah, so I don’t have any desire to talk to you about it.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT PROBABLY HADN’T been her best idea to accept Micah’s offer of coffee. Not when she was obviously in a fragile state—why else hadn’t she controlled her tongue?
Oh, right. That look of complete and utter anguish on his face.
‘You won’t let me apologise,’ he said, his voice low.
‘Do you know what you’re apologising for?’
His brow knitted. ‘Yesterday. For acting like an inconsiderate, stubborn—’ He exhaled. ‘I was wrong yesterday.’
‘What about the day before?’ she asked. ‘When you claimed you weren’t hiding anything?’
His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.
‘That’s why I didn’t want your apologies,’ she said, pushing her chair back so she could stand. ‘They don’t mean a thing.’
‘Elena—’
‘No!’ She slammed a hand on the table. ‘I don’t want to hear your excuses. I just want the truth. Did you or did you not bring me here because you want a partnership with my father?’
When he stared at her, the little hope she had that Jameson had been incorrectly speculating fluttered away, disappearing in the wind.
‘Micah,’ she said on what sounded like a hiccup, but couldn’t be. That would involve having emotions about the situation. But she’d prepared herself for this, so, obviously, she had no emotions whatsoever.
‘I was going to tell you,’ he said softly.
‘Were you?’
‘I...’ He paused. ‘Not if I didn’t have to, no.’
She pressed her lips toge
ther and tried to control the emotions she did, apparently, have. Control was better than feeling them. That swirl of disappointment and betrayal that made no sense when she’d known this man for days. When she was, essentially, working with him.
‘I didn’t think it would come to this,’ he continued in that same soft voice. ‘I didn’t expect for us to...’ He frowned. ‘I only wanted you to introduce us.’ The frown deepened. ‘You shouldn’t have been hurt by this.’
But I am.
She didn’t say it.
‘You could have found a million other ways to be introduced to my father,’ she pointed out, proud of how steady her voice was. ‘You could probably contact him now and he’d agree to meet with you.’
‘I’ve tried that.’ Despite his frown, the sternness he spoke with, he seemed vulnerable. Why did he seem vulnerable when he was the one with all the power? ‘I wasn’t as successful then. He wouldn’t take a meeting with me.’
‘He will now.’
‘How do you know?’
She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘If Jameson knows about you, my father knows about you.’
‘Jameson... Your fiancé?’
The repressed emotion in his voice had her pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. This was...a lot to deal with. At least she hadn’t put on eye make-up that morning. She’d been too tired. All the effort she’d been able to muster was to put something on her lips to distract from the rings around her eyes. She was aware that wasn’t how make-up worked, but it was the best she could do.
She dropped her hands. ‘He’s not my fiancé. He’s just the man my father wants me to marry to strengthen his company.’
‘What? What?’
The outrage almost amused her.
‘I’m a pawn to him,’ she said simply. ‘Not unlike how you intended on using me for an introduction.’
‘That’s not... It’s not the same.’
She only looked at him.
‘Elena, my intentions weren’t malicious. I promise. I was just...’ He took a deep breath. Then he met her eyes. Fierceness had woven itself between vulnerability, the result so captivating she couldn’t look away. ‘You’re right. I should have tried to get in contact with your father through other means. But I was afraid that...that my mother would find out.’
Marrying His Runaway Heiress Page 6