The fingers stopped and I leaned into the hot water, the scent of my shampoo filling the room. Shampoo foam seemed to keep pouring from my head and I wondered how much he had used. I kept rinsing, the suds pouring down my body in waves.
“How much did you use?” I asked, stepping out of the water for a moment, trying to decide if the lather was gone. It wasn’t. I stepped back under.
“I wasn’t sure, so a handful.”
I ran my fingers through my hair, finally finding the hair instead of soap. Jack held out his big hand like a cup, and I knew how much soap he had used. He had an earnest look on his face, like a child hoping he had done well. It made me smile and adore him even more.
“Um, a quarter of that would have been enough,” I said. I rinsed the last suds out, and grinned up at him. “You did well though. Your turn.”
Jack dipped his head under the water, spraying small water droplets everywhere as he ran his fingers through his hair. He bent his head towards me so I could reach his sandy colored hair. It was soft beneath my fingers, thick and luxurious. He made a soft noise of pleasure as I worked my fingers into his scalp, the soapy water dripping down his forehead.
He stepped under the faucet again, water and soap running in rivulets down his muscled body. I reached out a finger and traced one, his skin sliding beneath my touch. I could see him harden, his body responding to my touch. A rush of power filled me, but he held still, letting me caress him.
His body was strong. I could feel tension in his shoulders though, tightness across his back from the strain of holding the weight of his father’s company on his shoulders. I pushed my fingers into his muscles, feeling not only the strength of his body, but the hardness of his stress. He groaned slightly as I increased pressure, letting my fingers find the sore spots as the hot water relaxed him. Jack leaned into my hands, letting me work the ache from his body.
Slowly, his back turned from rock into supple muscle. His shoulders no longer held a hunch, and his face was as relaxed and happy as it had been when we were married. He kissed me softly, an appreciative, Thank you, in the simple gesture.
“Are you ready to get out?” The office was out of his voice, but he still sounded tired. This transition was not going as smoothly as either of us could have wished.
“I need to put conditioner in my hair, or I’ll never get it brushed,” I answered. He kissed the tip of my nose and stepped through the big glass doors. I watched him dry off. The steam obscured the glass, but I could still see enough of his body to make the small flame in my midsection dance and burn.
He finished drying, carefully hanging the towel back on the rack. “Do you mind if I use your computer?”
“Not at all. I’ll be out in a minute. The password is ‘vacation’.”
“Vacation, huh?” I could hear the smile in his voice as he knew it was a reference to him. He closed the door behind him as he left, letting me keep the steam in the shower. It only took me a moment to massage the conditioner into my hair and run my fingers through the tangled tresses. Jack washing my hair had felt spectacular, but the tangles it left behind did not.
I stepped out of the shower and dried quickly, ready to be next to Jack again. I grabbed a fuzzy robe from a hanger and stepped into the bedroom, ready to cuddle. The cold air hit me, but it was Jack’s face that made me stop.
He was standing in the middle of the room, his hair still wet and wearing only a pair of pajama pants. Every taut muscle in his chest gleamed as he radiated anger. In his fist was the envelope containing the scholarship information and money offered by his parents; behind him, my laptop screen was open to the email from Kaylee.
“What is this?” The question came out as a growl, his voice low.
I looked at the envelopes. His knuckles were almost white around them. “Your parents offered that to me. They want me to leave you so you can run the company without distraction.”
His hand tightened further around the crumpled paper. He took a menacing step forward, eyes blazing. “What about the email?”
“You read my email?” I took a step back, not understanding his anger at the situation.
“It was open when I turned on the computer. I didn’t mean to read it, but I’m glad I did. You wanted to bag a billionaire. That’s all I am to you. A meal ticket.”
A flash of anger surged through me, first that he had read a private message and then at how badly he had misinterpreted it, but the fury directed at me startled me. “It’s not like that. You’re taking things completely out of context-”
“Remember your trophy wife ambitions? How else should I take it?” He spoke in the controlling businessman’s voice that broke my heart. He never spoke to me in that voice.
“We were kids and I didn’t understand the meaning of the expression! If I had wanted to marry a billionaire, I’m sure there are easier ways!” I didn’t mean to yell, but it came out angry. I didn’t appreciate his accusations. This was never my plan.
He nodded, a sneer across his usually handsome face. He didn’t believe me. He shook his head and held out the crumpled envelopes. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I did tell you—your parents offered me that—”
“They offered you acceptance to vet school?” His voice dripped with scorn.
“What? No, they offered the scholarship. I only just found out.” I hated the way my throat was tightening up, the tears slowly gathering at his unjustified anger.
“Right. You wanted me so I could pay for your dream,” he spat out the words. I opened my mouth, but he ran right over me. “You made me fall in love with you, but it was all a lie. You never wanted me.”
“Jack, that’s not true! I was planning on telling you—”
“You were planning on telling me. How nice of you.” He glared at me, his eyes dark. His voice was full of venom. “You used me. All you ever wanted was money. I thought you were different, but you are just like everybody else.”
My temper finally snapped. I stepped up to him, feeling like lightning should be flashing from my eyes. “How dare you! I never expected this! I never asked for this! You aren’t listening to me at all!”
“I don’t need to listen to someone like you.” He leered at me, his lips in a cruel curve. “Did you pay the guy on the beach so you could be a hero? Was that your plan to catch my attention?”
“You are being paranoid and self-absorbed. I didn’t plan anything. This never had anything to do with money. Will you please listen to me?” I pleaded. I didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
“Why should I listen to you? You only wanted me for my money. You don't deserve me. ”
His words hit me like a slap across the face. Self doubt flooded through me. I wasn’t good enough. Someone like Jack would never be with someone like me. This was all a lie. I stumbled back, reeling as though I had been physically hit. He sneered and stepped towards me, his face sharp in the moonlight. This was not the man who had snuck into my bedroom only a few hours ago.
I stumbled back into my dresser, trying to escape his hurtful words. My elbow banged the corner, sending a jolt of pain shrieking through my arm.
“Get out of my room,” I yelled, the pain making me bold.
“It’s my house,” he scoffed.
“Get out of my room,” I enunciated every syllable clearly, anger vibrating through me. He snickered in the dark. Fury pumped through my veins. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me.“You want me to take your money and run? Then I will do exactly what you want me to do. I was going to give up my dreams for you. You're right. I don't deserve you. I deserve better.”
Jack went silent. I was both grateful and disappointed I couldn’t see his face in the dark. I knew my words were hitting home and I didn’t care if they were cruel. I reached out and ripped the envelopes from his hand. “I was going to give this back, but since you obviously don’t want me, then I will go back to where I belong.”
“Emma,” he started, the tone of his voice shifting
. I was past furious now. The room took on a scarlet haze, every nerve shaking as I cut him off.
“You wanted to push me away. You saw one thing that you didn't like, and instead of trusting me, you accuse me. You wanted to hurt me. Go back to your perfect life in a perfect office, where you don’t feel anything or trust anyone. Where you don’t have to be vulnerable or even human. Congratulations. You'll get it all back. I'll leave you and your precious money. I know better than to stay where I’m not wanted.”
I knew I touched a nerve. I could feel him vibrating as he swore and stormed to the door. The room shook as he slammed the heavy door shut, his footsteps stomping loudly down the hall. The air felt thick and hard to breathe. Everything was suddenly too warm and I felt sticky. I thought I might be sick as my legs crumpled beneath me and I fell to the floor.
The hurt in my heart fueled a fire of anger, the pain masquerading as rage. I knew my words had hit their target. I had hurt him. My arrows had slipped past his carefully constructed armor and gone straight to his heart. It felt like a betrayal, but I was angry enough that I didn’t care.
Chapter 21
The small plane landed with a thud, shaking me loose from my thoughts. I replayed our fight over and over again in my head, trying to figure out what had happened. I couldn’t understand why he thought I was trying to use him. I had wanted to choose him! Thinking about it made my whole body ache. The plane stopped smoothly at the terminal, and the businessman sitting next to me stood up and left without a word. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t exactly in a making friends mood.
The plane slowly emptied and I stood up. The short blonde hair on my wig felt strange against my chin, but Rachel had promised me it looked natural. I kept wanting to tug at it, but I didn’t want anyone to recognize me. The stewardess smiled politely as I exited the plane, her eyes looking past me at the empty seats. I could tell she was already cleaning it in her mind so she could return to New York. I didn’t even try to smile back.
The small airport was empty and I said a silent, Thank you. I didn’t want to face the paparazzi reporters today, I didn’t have the energy. Rachel had found a small charter flight with a seat available. I had snuck through the airport and boarded quietly, hoping no one would notice me. No one did. I spent the flight staring out the window and trying not to annoy the passenger next to me with my sighs.
I had stayed two more nights in New York, hoping that Jack and I would make up. He chose to sleep at his office and wouldn’t answer my calls. It had been a long two days by myself. Rachel found me the second day sitting at the kitchen table in tears, surrounded by the dying roses he had sent me. They had all wilted and the similarity to our relationship had been too much.
“I’m going to call him up right now, and tell him exactly what I think,” Rachel had said when I finally stopped sniffling enough to tell her what happened. She seemed shocked. “The happiest I have seen him in years is with you, and then he goes and does this... ?”
Her anger at Jack eased the pain a little. It was like cool water on a sunburn—too little to stop the pain, but enough relief to make it better for a moment. She had picked up her cell phone and dialed him right then, full of righteous indignation.
“Jack, I’m with Emma, and—” she started out with strength, but suddenly paled as his voice carried through the phone. It was angry and full of the confidence of a businessman. She stepped away, speaking into the phone with far less forcefulness than she started with. In a matter of moments, she was replying with a meek ‘“Yes, Sir. No, I understand, Sir. I will see to it, Sir.”
She sat down, setting the phone with a quiet tap on the wooden table. She stared at it like it might turn and bite her at any moment.
“Thank you for trying,” I said quietly. I knew then that it was time for me to leave.
“I’m sorry Emma. I don’t like this at all.”
“We're from different worlds. I’m not Cinderella, and you aren’t a fairy godmother. Some things aren’t meant to be.” The words came out with a sad surety. I should have seen this coming. A billionaire and the broke girl from Small Town, Nowhere? That was never going to happen. It had been foolish to think it would. “Will you help me arrange things so I can go home? I’m tired and I want to go back to the way things are supposed to be.”
Rachel frowned and then looked up. She looked for a moment like she was going to try and persuade me otherwise, but she glanced at her phone again and sighed. She nodded and stood up slowly. “I’ll take care of everything. You go and pack.”
Everything had gone quickly from there. Rachel was the only one to see me off at the airport, dropping me off in a nondescript car. I had tried not to cry as she hugged me goodbye, but I was going to miss her can-do attitude and easy smile. I wondered as the car had pulled away if she was going to tell Jack I was gone. I still hadn’t heard from him since our fight, despite leaving him multiple messages.
“Miss Street? Miss Anna Street?” A light masculine voice cut through my memories. A tall older gentleman, with combed back brown hair sliced with gray and bright blue eyes was trying to catch my attention. I suddenly recognized Dean, though it took me a moment before I remembered that I was traveling as Anna Street to avoid alerting any of the press. I rushed over and hugged him, glad to have a familiar face when my world seemed so empty. He grinned and hugged me back before tucking the sign with my false name printed neatly across it under his arm and ushering me to a waiting black SUV.
“Looks like you made it here safe and sound. Rachel hired me to look out for you for the next few weeks. She thought it was best if it was someone you knew and trusted already.” I was so glad it was Dean who was going to look out for me. Just hearing his voice was soothing. It was like he was always smiling, even though his face was straight and professional. He reminded me so much of my father it was easy to trust him.
“I’m glad you’re here Dean. Where are we going?”
“Ms. Weber has arranged for you to stay at a local hotel.”
“A hotel? You mean I don’t get to go home?” I felt a push of despair. All I wanted was to curl up in my bed, in my house, with my special coffee mug and try to forget this whole thing had ever even happened.
“I’m sorry, but no. There are at least three photographers waiting at your home and several more positioned at places that you are known to frequent. I’m afraid I'll have to ask you to stay at the hotel and keep your contact with people here as brief as possible for your own safety.” His voice lost the smiling sound as he smiled apologetically at me. I sighed and nodded. I should have known this was going to keep haunting me.
Dean carefully parked the car in the parking lot of a small hotel outside of downtown Des Moines. The city was so tiny compared to New York that calling it a city seemed like a sad joke. It seemed grayer than I remembered—less alive. The trees reached up with grasping fingers, scratching at an unforgiving sky for warmth and light. Even though the trees were starting to sprout little buds, I couldn’t see the green. The day would have been warm if the wind wasn’t blowing, but dark clouds were building across the sky as the sun set. Spring snow threatened, but I didn’t care.
Dean walked in front of me, his thin frame easy to follow through the empty hallways to my room. It was a nice room, nicer than anything I could have afforded, but it was still just a hotel room. I went to the closet to hang my jacket and found my things already arranged neatly. Glancing around the room, I could see small touches that could only be the work of Rachel. My mail on the table, fresh flowers in a vase by the door, my toothbrush and a red cup by the sink.
Dean handed me a card with his name and telephone number, reminding me if I needed anything to call him. “I’ll bring by some pizza in an hour or so for you. What would you like?”
“Pineapple and bacon,” I answered automatically. Comfort food sounded good. He grinned and shut the heavy door softly behind him. I stood in the center of the room, suddenly lost. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be in New York. I w
anted to be somewhere I belonged. I wanted this hole in my heart to either disappear or fill up with something that didn’t hurt so much.
I slid the blonde wig off my head and onto a wig stand in the bathroom. Rachel had thought of everything. I looked at myself in the mirror. I still looked the same, brown hair, brown eyes, but I knew something must be different about me. I didn’t feel like me anymore. I suddenly wanted out of my expensive clothes, out of everything that had anything to do with New York or the almost-life I had left behind.
I threw the suit on the tile floor, a sick sense of satisfaction at the expensive fabric lying in a pile. I stepped on it as I walked past. All I wanted was a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt. I dug through the drawers, but all I could find was beautiful expensive clothes from New York. I ripped them out of the drawers and off their hangers, tossing them in angry showers to the floor as I searched. I didn’t want this. All I wanted was something simple, comfortable. Finally, in the bottom drawer of the last dresser, I found my ratty scrub pants and a t-shirt.
With a sob of relief I dove into the familiar fabric, feeling it rub against my skin. The hem on the pants was fraying and a hole had developed in the t-shirt, but I didn’t care. Hot tears leaked down my cheeks, leaving red lines of frustration and hurt behind them. I sat down on the bed, a raft in a sea of clothes, and cried until I passed out, exhausted.
Chapter 22
Five days, three hours, and twenty three minutes since I left New York. I had been cooped up in the hotel room for five days, and I was ready to kill. Dean brought me whatever kind of food I wanted, and I had free reign of room service and the coffee cart in the library, provided I wore the blonde wig whenever I opened the door.
I hated it. The weather outside was slowly getting warmer, the sunshine teasing me with happiness. I went out in the hotel courtyard several times, but there was always a businessman on his phone, or a family planning their drive back through Nebraska. I wanted to be alone, not silently sharing strangers’ lives, so I tended to stay in my room and pull the drapes.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 15