by Colet Abedi
But then…
Hold on…
Why is he angry?
I’m the one who should be angry. He should be kissing my ass as far as I’m concerned. His behavior is in question, not mine.
I lift my chin and face him, letting the anger I had earlier sweep over me. Allowing it to make me brave. To give me power over him.
“I’m going to bed,” I tell him in a haughty voice. “Alone.”
Michael’s smile is slow.
“Are you?”
“I am.”
“I don’t think so.” His voice is hard. “I’m not finished with you.”
My heart stops in anger. But I won’t allow him to get the better of me.
“But I’m finished with you,” I tell him as the tenuous hold I have on my temper breaks. “I will not allow you to disrespect me ever again!”
My comment throws him. And for a moment I see the uneasiness flicker in his eyes.
“Natalia?” I snarl at him. “I take it she’s served you in more ways than I can imagine?”
Michael has the sense to look uneasy.
“Yes…” I look around for something to throw at him. “I can see from your reaction that she has.”
I find a glass vase. Pick it up and hurl it with all my might at his head. He ducks easily and the vase shatters into the door behind him.
“How dare you take me to a restaurant where one of your whores works?!” I shout at him, finding another object to throw at him again.
I’m blind with rage. I can’t even see straight as I continue hurl objects at him with all my pent-up anger.
After a moment, I realize Michael’s anger has dissipated and he’s watching me with an amused expression. Like he’s both pleased and shocked I’m so rattled.
I wait for him to say something.
But he doesn’t.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?!” I shriek out at him in uncontrollable anger. How dare he look like he’s about to laugh?
“There’s an antique statue behind you that was given to me by an indigenous tribe in Colombia,” he says nonchalantly. “I’d be upset if you decided to break that too.”
His comment takes the wind out of my sails and I shriek like a banshee again as I turn away from him, trying my hardest to calm myself. I look around at the disaster I’ve just created and am in bloody shock over my own lack of self-control. I have never—never—in all of my life lost it like I just did with this man.
“You need to leave,” I tell him, my voice trembling.
“I don’t think so,” he returns with a ghost of a smile. “I’ve never witnessed anything so spectacular in my life.”
“Spectacular?” I whisper out in horror. “Take a look around!”
He does as I say and shrugs his shoulders.
“Objects that can be replaced.”
“Objects that can be replaced?” I ask in confusion.
“That’s what I just said.” He gives me a wicked grin.
“You’re insane,” I whisper.
“A bit,” he admits. “But from the look of things, I do believe I’m in good company.”
I throw my hands up in anger and stare at him like he’s lost his mind.
“Up until an hour ago you were treating me like I was an infectious disease,” I remind him.
“You’re definitely contagious.”
“You’re making me crazy.”
“Sweetheart, I think you were already there.” He smirks. “But I must admit I find your temper terribly attractive. Who knew proper Abby was capable of such…”
He looks around at the disaster I’ve just created.
“Destruction.”
“Was this intentional?” I ask him with narrowed eyes.
“What part?”
“All of it.”
“Not quite.” His eyes dance with mirth. “Though I would love to take credit for making you finally lose it.”
I did just definitely lose it. I take a deep breath in and count to ten. The man is going to make me crazy. What am I thinking? He is making me crazy!
“What changed?” I ask him as I cross my arms. “I went to sleep thinking…”
I stop myself from talking.
“Thinking?” he asks slowly as he takes a step toward me. “Finish your thought, Abby.”
“That everything was finally happening!” I shout out at him.
“Finally?” he asks, lifting a brow in confusion.
“Come on!” I explode. “Stop pretending like you’ve never known how I’ve felt about you! You bring me on this trip. You make love to me. You show me kindness. You make me feel things… and then you throw it all away with your mercurial mood—and then if that’s not bad enough, you flirt with that woman right in front of me! How dare you treat me like this?! I’m not some common woman who can be yo-yoed around!”
The tears begin to fall before I can stop them.
“I won’t be toyed with!” I cry out to him, my emotions blinding me. “I have feelings. I’m human, goddamnit!”
I don’t know how he gets to me so fast but one minute I’m a quivering mess of tears, and in the next, he pulls me into his arms. Kissing my head, my face, the tears away before I can even muster the strength to push him away.
“I’m an ass,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m so sorry for making you cry. I never want to be the one to cause you any pain.”
I let him hold me for a minute longer, needing the comfort he’s offering more than anything. But then sanity kicks in, and I remember everything he’s put me through and I push away to look into his eyes.
“Then why did you hurt me?” I ask him softly, feeling more vulnerable than I ever have in my life.
Michael’s pained gaze meets mine and I see the struggle in its depths. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead down against mine not saying a word. His breath is slow, labored.
“Michael?” My voice is uncharacteristically forceful. “Answer me.”
When he remains silent, I move out of his arms, giving myself space.
And wait.
“Abby…” His voice sounds tormented.
He turns away from me and silently curses before looking back at me with his bright cerulean gaze.
“I told you I’m not good at this,” he finally says.
“No.” I shake my head, not buying it for a minute. “That’s not it. There’s more, and you owe me an explanation.”
“Clayton called,” he says to my surprise.
“Clayton?”
“Yes,” Michael says as his gaze meets mine. “That ass of a stepbrother you have has been talking…”
I curse out loud, loathing my stepbrother more than humanly possible. After I speak to my mother, Davis is the next target on my list.
“And Clayton disapproves?” I say the obvious, feeling almost deflated.
“Yes.”
My heart sinks in dread and the feeling of anguish that comes over me is almost too much to bear.
“Of course he does,” I whisper back as tears begin to sting my eyes again. Michael’s admission hurts more than I thought possible. I’ve always loved Clayton and looked up to him. I was a champion of his relationship with Sophie. I wanted him to find happiness. I always thought he felt the same way about me. Did he not think I was good enough for his younger brother?
“It’s not what you think,” Michael rushes out quickly when he sees the look on my face.
“No? Then what exactly is it?”
“Christ, Abby,” Michael mutters as he closes his eyes. “It’s not about you—it’s about me.”
“You?”
“My past. The way I am. My entire life, goddamnit! I’ve never had a steady girlfriend. I’ve never wanted anything serious. I’ve never even felt more than passing affection for a woman. Never.”
Icy dread spreads through my heart as I eye him cautiously.
“And you.” He throws his hands up in despair. “You’re not just some woman… you’re—”
“You’re you!” His jaw tightens as he exhales. “You’re sweet, Abigail. Innocent. Fragile. You’re not the kind of woman I would ever think to pursue. And I did. Knowing goddamn well what all the consequences would be.”
A feeling of helplessness sweeps over me as I allow his truth to seep into me. He’s being honest. As hard as it is to hear, I can’t blame or fault him for it.
I wait for him to say more but he doesn’t. So I push him for the answers I need to hear.
“Then why did you?” I finally ask.
He opens his eyes and meets my gaze head-on, the desire he has for me there to see, burning into my heart.
My soul.
“Because I can’t stay away!”
He holds my gaze for a second longer before looking away, a look of disgust sweeping over his face.
“And now here we are,” he practically growls, his emotions as volatile as a simmering volcano.
I watch him for a moment and feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like a voyeur looking in on a scene that has nothing to do with them. And I see it all for what it is.
A strange feeling of calm comes over me as I let the reality of the situation set in. He’s sexually attracted to me. He wants me physically. But the rest…
“What did Clayton say?” I ask calmly.
Silence greets me again, but I wait. I want to know.
Everything.
And I won’t let him leave until he tells me.
“He was angry.” Michael’s gaze flares as it sweeps over my face. “Rightfully furious with me. My brother loves you and doesn’t want to see you hurt again. And he believes I will do just that.”
No one knows Michael more than Clayton. The two have always been close. More than anyone in the world, Clayton would know what his brother was capable of, or not. I stare at Michael and will him to say something to make me feel better. Something to make me feel safe.
But he doesn’t.
The energy shifts into something somber.
He hasn’t bothered to deny his brother’s thoughts. He believes Clayton is right. That breaking my heart is an inevitable outcome.
“And I guess, I just realized he was right,” Michael voices the words that make my heart twist in pain.
After another awkward moment of silence, I find my voice.
“Thank you for clarifying our situation,” I reply softly, unable to mask the hurt I’m feeling.
“Abby! Don’t look at me like that. It’s killing me,” Michael pleads. “You’re not cut out for a life with me, a relationship even.”
His words throw me.
“Cut out?” I question, not understanding what he means.
“You’re posh.”
There it is again.
I decide I hate that word.
And I hate him for using it over and over to describe me.
“I find that observation incredibly insulting,” I tell him harshly.
“It’s not meant to be.” His voice sounds unapologetic. “It’s just the truth.”
“You act as though you weren’t raised the same way I was.” My voice is hard as I attack him right back. “You had much more than I did growing up. Look at your life now. This house. Your multiple homes around the world. Your driver. Your plane. It’s astounding… I’d really like to know what your definition of posh is.”
Michael watches me intently before shaking his head.
“You’re misunderstanding me,” he says. “It’s not about money—”
“Then what?”
“The places I go,” he begins to say. “The things I do—”
“Because I didn’t particularly like surfing?” I cut in angrily. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize that not enjoying a sport would cause you to label me as a vapid, insipid woman consumed with the finer things in life.”
“That’s not what I’m saying…” His voice is harsh, eyes narrowed fiercely as he stares at me.
“Then what are you saying?”
“You would never enjoy the life I like to live,” he says grimly. “You would never survive it.”
“That’s incredibly judgmental of you, Michael,” I reply coolly. “And it hurts. You’re the last person in the world I’d ever think to cast opinions about me.”
“Maybe I am judging you.” Michael’s voice is hard. “But I’ve also known you since childhood. I’ve seen you out at parties and in social settings. I saw the man you picked to be your fiancé for god’s sake!”
I blush in shame at the mention of Dimitri. If there were one thing in my life I could change, it would be that damn decision to ever get engaged to that man.
But I can’t take it back.
“That was a mistake.” I hate my voice for trembling, for sounding weak. “Dimitri was just a foolish, foolish decision on my part.”
“Then why did you do it?” Michael’s eyes narrow as he stares at me in anger. “Tell me why.”
“My mother—”
“Fuck!” Michael curses before turning away from me and running a hand through his hair. “You let your mother dictate your life? You let your goddamn mother decide who you were going to marry?”
He jumps to his own conclusions. Ones that are not far from the truth, as demoralizing as it might be.
“What do you want me to say?! I made a mistake! I’m sure you’ve made plenty in your life. And maybe I was trying to run away from it all—my life at that moment! I don’t know. But I’m not going to go back in time and defend myself to you, defend how helpless I felt. It happened. And it’s done. If that was the life I wanted, I would have gone through with the wedding. But I didn’t. I realized it was the furthest thing from what I wanted.”
“What do you want?” Michael asks, taking a step toward me.
His stance is forceful.
My mouth goes dry as I stare up at his handsome face. It’s almost painful to look at him.
You. I want to shout out at him.
You are all I’ve ever wanted.
But after everything he just said, I can’t.
I shake my head instead.
“You’re not being fair,” I whisper to him. “You have no right to judge me. You have no right to jump to conclusions about who you think I am. You can just be honest and say that you don’t want to be with me. You don’t have to do or say all of this.”
When Michael is only a foot away from me, he stops. We stare at each other. Close enough to touch one another, but now separated by so much more than just physical space.
Michael’s stormy gaze meets mine and deep gut-wrenching anguish comes over me.
Is this it?
This can’t be it.
I’ll die if it is.
“I never said I don’t want to be with you.” His voice is soft, husky. “I said you wouldn’t fit in my world. And I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t stomach the thought.”
Hot tears begin to fall down my face as I stare into his eyes. I don’t even care that he can see how much he’s hurt me. My emotions are raw and I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“Then that’s it.” I’m finally able to speak. “There’s nothing more for us to say.”
He watches me with a ferocity that makes my breath catch and for a minute I think he’s going to pull me into his arms and tell me he’s wrong, that he’s going to give us a chance. But when I see the cold wall sweep up over his face, I know that’s not going to happen. He’s made up his mind, and from what I know of him, he will not budge.
“I’d like to be alone now.” The words are even painful to say because it’s the last thing I really want.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” My voice is filled with the finality of our situation.
He nods curtly before swiftly turning his back to me and walking out of the room.
When the door shuts, I crumble to the floor in anguish. I sob until I have no more tears to shed. Until I’m raw and have nothing l
eft.
I feel completely empty as I realize the truth.
When Michael Sinclair left the room, he took my heart with him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My eyes are swollen from crying all night.
I wasn’t able to sleep at all, reliving the evening over and over like a broken record. For one blissful moment in the morning, I thought I had I had a bad dream, and it didn’t really happen. But no, reality sunk in and the misery and devastation I felt the night before hit me as hard as the sun’s bright rays.
I shower quickly and then pull out my computer to book a ticket home. The earliest flight I can find leaves that evening. After I finish, I pack up my things and reply to texts from Georgie and Danielle. I don’t tell them I’m coming home, figuring I’d fill them in on my heartbreak when I get back to London.
I change into a sundress and decide to head downstairs to find Joseph and ask if he can help me find a driver to take me to the airport. When I make it down the stairs, I see Giselle straightening out the family room. She gives me a welcoming smile.
“Buenos días, Abby,” she says kindly. “What can I get you for breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you.”
“No?” She frowns as she takes in my appearance.
I know she can tell I was crying, my eyes are so swollen it would be hard not to notice.
“Are you all right?” Her voice is gentle and nearly my undoing. Sympathy is the last thing I need right now. Sympathy will only make me feel sorry for myself and bring on more tears.
“I’m fine. I was actually wondering if you could tell me where I can find Joseph?”
She watches me for a minute longer before giving me a sympathetic smile.
“I saw him out front of the house. I think he might still be there.”
“Thank you,” I say gratefully, making my way past her.
I step out the front doors and look around the courtyard for any sign of Joseph. Luck is finally on my side as I see him next to one of the cars, bent down low, waxing the wheels.
I walk toward him and he turns to face me when I approach, giving me a sheepish smile.
“Are you ready for that surfing lesson?”
“No,” I say with a small laugh. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Joseph looks almost relieved.