Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “Mr. Dylan,” Clare said again.

  He groaned and dropped his hands. “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” Clare’s voice came through the door, “but there’s a very important client on line two.”

  David stalked to the door, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  I waited with bated breath. David was laying it all out now—and he wasn’t wrong. If ever there was a time to leave Bill, this was it. Was that why I’d come here? So David would make the decision for me and command me to choose him?

  But then what? Bill had been the only home I’d known for five years. Had David ever committed to anything that long? What would happen once David realized relationships were work—that they were hard, and they relied on more than love to survive? What would happen if he left me after I’d given up so much for him? After I’d let myself love him?

  David wrenched open the door to his office. “Where have you been?” he asked Clare. “Reception was empty for over twenty minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, I had to make a quick call,” she said. “But there’s—”

  “You’re fired.”

  My mouth fell open. Even with his back to me, I could see him work his jaw side to side. He was frustrated, but not with her. “David,” I said, to try to get him to reconsider.

  “Stay out of it,” he snapped over his shoulder.

  “The call was an emergency, I promise,” Clare said. “I’m sorry—”

  “Do you have emergencies every few hours? I’ve told you before, no personal calls in the office.” David cocked his head. “Pack up your shit. You’re fired.”

  Oh, God. This was my fault. Clare’s expression was so crestfallen, I had to look away. My eyes landed on David’s desk—specifically, on a white manila folder labeled Contract above a familiar address.

  With a frown, I stepped closer to the desk, trying to compute what I was looking at. One corner was stamped with a popular real estate agency. A scribbled Post-it note on top said, “Congratulations.”

  Clare’s pleas for David’s forgiveness faded into the background. I picked up the folder, my heart thumping as I turned it over, unfastened it, and slid out the sales contract inside.

  It couldn’t be.

  But it was.

  Right there, on top, an address I knew by heart.

  I flipped through the pages, and a signature flashed by over and over.

  Lucas David Dylan.

  David slammed the door and turned back to me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “As I was saying—”

  I could no longer see through the blur of angry tears filling my eyes. I lifted my head just as David stopped, taking in the scene before him. “What is this?” I asked, holding up the contract.

  He didn’t respond right away, frozen in place as his eyes scanned my face. “Olivia—”

  “What the fuck is it?” I asked.

  His eyebrows gathered as he stared at me. “You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

  “This is the Oak Park house,” I said. “The one Bill and I made an offer on. You—you bought it?”

  David sighed deeply and swiped a hand over his face. “Yes.”

  But it was more than a house. It’d been Bill’s and my chance to fix our marriage. My attempt to move on from David and forget him. My future. And David had gone behind my back and taken that away from us.

  The papers rustled audibly in my shaking hand. “You asshole.”

  “Let me explain,” he started.

  “You lied to me,” I said.

  “I didn’t lie. I was going to tell you.”

  “When?”

  He stood unnaturally still while I nearly vibrated. Finally, he said, “Once you left him.”

  “You were so sure I’d divorce my husband for you? Or did you assume us losing the house would be the final straw?” I scoffed in disbelief. “How dare you? Bill trusted you. We trusted you to help us. You know how much I loved that house.”

  “I do know, yes,” he said much too calmly.

  “So why?” I asked. “Why’d you do it?”

  His jaw set. “Why do you think, Olivia?”

  My breath came in short bursts. The room sharpened around us. What David had done was more than trying and failing to keep his hands off me. He’d purposely manipulated the situation to his favor, and I could only think of two reasons why, both despicable. “You told me yourself it was a good investment,” I said. “That the seller didn’t know its value. You flip houses in the suburbs.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t buy it to make a profit. You know me better than that.”

  “Then you did it to swipe it out from under Bill. To emasculate him. To drive an even deeper wedge into my marriage when this house was the key to fixing it.”

  Now, David looked as angry as I was, his hands two fists at his sides. “You need a shitty fucking pile of bricks to fix your marriage? Do you hear what you’re saying?” He thrust a hand through his hair. “I’m standing here offering you everything, when your husband has no clue how to make you happy.”

  I felt suddenly defensive of Bill, who didn’t deserve any of this—but who especially didn’t deserve to be on the other end of David’s scheming. “Fuck you,” I said. “Was this always just a game for you? Showing up at my work, charming my friends, dating Dani, introducing me to your family—now this?” I was being unfair, even if everything I said was true. Even if I had every right to be livid. But I didn’t care, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop. “I can’t believe I thought this was more than it is. The truth is, you get some kind of perverted satisfaction from destroying my marriage.”

  “That’s enough,” he said, his voice booming through the office. He ripped at the knot of his tie until it came loose. “Don’t you ever speak to me that way. I did this for you. To show you that I believe in us.”

  “In . . . us? There’s no us.” The words left a bitter aftertaste, but the way David flinched satisfied me. I was fucking tired of being pushed and pulled in different directions—Bill urging me for months on end to agree to a baby, and now David trying to manipulate me into his arms. “You say you’re offering me everything, but for how long?”

  David slid the silky tie through his hand as if he meant to use it on me. “What do you mean?”

  “How long do I get ‘everything’?” I asked. “Until the next ‘most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen’ comes along? Until you grow tired of fucking the same pussy every night?”

  “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Don’t talk about us like that.” He balled up the tie and threw it on a chair as he stalked toward me. “I know you’re hurt, but you better calm down and think about what you’re saying.”

  “No. You don’t get to tell me to calm down.” I slapped the contract on his desk. “None of this matters anyway. You purposely interfered with my marriage, and you did it behind my back. Bill and I are trying to make it work, and I want you to stay far away from us.” I paused as my breath caught in my throat. For a fleeting moment, I saw myself outside my body. My reaction ran deeper than David’s betrayal. I understood that. I understood that I could only leave here one of two ways. With David, or without him. And committing myself to someone as unpredictable as David was, hands down, scarier than anything I’d ever done. “Thank you for making this easy.”

  “Olivia, stop,” he said as I started across the office. “I didn’t do this to ruin your marriage. If we could have a civilized conversation, I’ll explain—”

  I whirled around. “Go ahead. Explain. Tell my why you made the offer. Why you fucked me against a tree where you knew Bill could find us, then cast me aside like I was trash. And if I hadn’t felt like enough of a whore, you tried to make it better by pledging fifty grand in front of a crowd.”

  “I did it anonymously,” he said. “To show my support for something that means a lot to you.”

  “You did it out of guilt,” I accused.

  He gestured to a leather club chair. “Sit, and tell me how it made
you feel. I’ll listen. And I’ll explain whatever you want me to. But I’m not having a screaming match with you. So sit.”

  “No.”

  “I have no excuse for buying the house, but after everything I’ve put up with, every goddamn way I’ve cut myself open for you, I deserve the chance to explain.” We stared at each other, electricity charging the space between us. If I didn’t run out now, one of us would tear across the room and an explosion would ensue. But what kind? Would we fight, get physical, give in to another angry fuck? I didn’t know. That was the problem. I didn’t know anything about the kind of life David could offer me except for these explosions.

  David pointed at the chair again. “I said sit the fuck down.”

  I could see that with everything in him, David expected me to obey. That was because he was a charmer, and he was used to getting everything he wanted. If I sat, he’d rationalize all of this away. Maybe he’d even find a way to make it sound romantic. And I’d fall back into him, and be right back where I was when I’d walked in here. Torn between two men—no, between two lives. I had an out. I felt genuinely betrayed that David would do this, and it might be my only chance to escape this. “We’re done,” I said with as much venom as I could muster. “This time I mean it.”

  “So do I.” He pointed behind me. “Walk out that door, and that’s it. I’m not coming after you anymore. I will explain everything. I will give you everything. But I’m no fool. I will not chase you anymore.”

  At last, it was a decision. An ending. Maybe not the one I wanted, and maybe not the right one—I would never know. But at least it was finally over. I turned, whipped open the door, and slammed it behind me.

  Clare looked at me with huge eyes and started throwing her things into a cardboard box faster.

  Alone in the elevator, I ordered myself to curb the tears. This was for the best. I’d just gotten a glimpse into what life with David would be like, and it was too risky for me.

  Do not cry. It’s not worth it.

  But I couldn’t command myself the way David could. It didn’t work that way. By the time the elevator hit the ground floor, big, dense tears leaked from my eyes. I was drowning quickly, and there was only one person I could call.

  Once I’d hit the sidewalk out front of Pierson/Greer, I took out my phone with shaky hands and scrolled my contacts until Gretchen’s name appeared. I needed someone now. Someone who wouldn’t judge or condemn my actions, who wouldn’t push or manipulate me into things I didn’t want.

  “Hey, girl,” Gretchen’s cheery voice came through the speaker. “What’s up?”

  “I . . .” I said through a clogged throat. I held the cellphone away from my cheek for a moment, waiting out the urge to sob. “I’m upset, and I need to talk.”

  After a moment of silence, surprise laced Gretchen’s response, which also verged on excited. “Really? Okay, yes. Let’s talk. Right now?”

  I nodded. “Can I come over?”

  “I’ll leave work now and meet you at my place.”

  I wondered if she’d still have ice cream and wine from when Lucy and I had been there. We were going to need both.

  When I arrived at her apartment, I only had to knock once before she whipped open the door. It was so comforting to see her that I lunged into her arms and hugged her tightly.

  “Holy shit,” she said, peeling me off by my shoulders. “What is it?”

  I swallowed. “David Dylan.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah.”

  She checked the hallway as if I were an undercover spy who might’ve been tailed. “Come in,” she said, pulling me through the door, taking my purse, and setting it on her entryway table. As she coaxed me to the couch, she said, “Tell me everything.”

  I started at the beginning. I told her about the first night at David’s apartment—how I’d lied about going home sick from the Meet and Greet at Gryphon Hotel, and the months of rock-bottom despair that had followed. I clawed at an innocent decorative pillow when I relayed how being with David in his hotel room with the pool had changed everything. Our connection had solidified and powered through me like a tornado. My feelings were strong and deep-rooted, I admitted, and I didn’t know how to handle them. Everything was out of control. I hung my head as I confessed how David and I had had sex against a tree at the masquerade ball, and how he’d been so upset afterward, he wouldn’t even look at me.

  A long silence ensued as I tried to gather myself.

  “And that’s how it ended?” Gretchen asked when I didn’t continue.

  I shifted on the couch, raising my eyes to her. “No. This morning, I told him.”

  Her brows furrowed a moment until understanding dawned. “Bill?” she guessed. “You told him about the affair?”

  “Yes.” I fisted the pillow as my stomach churned, remembering Bill’s expression morphing between shock, hurt, and anger. “He was upset, obviously,” I said. “But also, at times, weirdly calm. Then he asked for details.”

  “Did you tell him it was David?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know how much I should tell him.”

  Gretchen glanced at the coffee table, lost in a thought. “I think you should tell him everything,” she said. “I’d want to know. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess,” I said, nodding. For the first time, I wondered what it would be like if Bill’s and my roles were reversed. The thought of him cheating on me was so far-fetched, I almost laughed. Instead, I cringed, trying to envision how that conversation would go. There was absolutely no part of me that would want details. “Actually, no,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to know.”

  “Really? I’d be tearing shit down.”

  The picture in my head shifted from Bill to David. Now, I was tearing shit down, screaming, sobbing, asking for sordid details. I guessed Bill having an affair with another woman while married to me would be ugly and uncomfortable, but David? It would be shattering.

  “Oh, honey,” Gretchen said. “Bill won’t leave you. Don’t worry. It’ll be hard, but you guys will make it through this.”

  I cocked my head at her. “How do you know?”

  “Bill adores you. And he’s definitely the type to want to work through this, don’t you think?”

  Slowly, I nodded. That sounded like Bill. “I hurt him so much,” I said. “But David, he has . . . had this power over me. With him, nothing and nobody else matters. And now I’m just supposed to forget him? Yes, I hurt Bill, but . . .” My throat thickening. “That’s not even what’s breaking me in this moment.”

  “Ah,” she said, twisting her hands as she worked through what I was saying. “I see. You didn’t call because of Bill. He’s not why you’re upset.”

  I shook my head hard. “After I told Bill, I went to see David.”

  Gretchen sighed. “Liv, I warned you. Didn’t I? I said that man has the power to fucking destroy hearts.”

  “I know,” I said quietly. “But losing him feels . . . physical. Like somebody’s squeezing my insides.”

  “Are you . . .” She cleared her throat. “You’re thinking about leaving Bill for David?”

  My chin quivered, and I paused. “No. David and I fought. I ended things. For real, this time.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  I inhaled deeply through my nose. “David bought the Oak Park house.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “The Oak Park house . . . that you and Bill tried to buy? The one David helped you out with?” She frowned. “He bought it instead?”

  I confirmed with a short nod.

  “What an asshole,” she said. “Why would he do that? To flip it for a profit?”

  I stuck my thumbnail between my front teeth. I’d accused him of the same, but no part of me believed that. “I don’t know the reason,” I said. “From the start, David has told me he wants more than I can give. And you know as well as anyone, a guy like David gets whatever he wants.” I looked back at her. “I guess this was his way
of doing that. Asserting his dominance, trying to fuck with my marriage, getting between Bill and me.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “He wants you to leave Bill?”

  “He thinks he wants that,” I said. “Or at least, that’s what he’s told me. That’s why this house thing pisses me off so much—it was backhanded of him and it makes me question everything we have. Had.”

  Gretchen watched me closely. “I’ve never heard you talk like this.”

  “I lost my sense.” My chin quivered again. “This is why I am the way I am. So I don’t end up brokenhearted over . . .” I swallowed. “And Bill, he’d never make me feel this way.”

  “And that’s a good thing,” she said, but it almost sounded like a question.

  “Isn’t it?” My heart ached with every beat, feeling close to giving out each time I thought of David. “Who wants to feel this torn apart?”

  Gretchen hesitated. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to say something, but she just shook her head. “Yeah. You have a point.”

  “You told me so, right?”

  She just shook her head. “I’m sorry. When you told me you had feelings for David, I honestly thought it was just sexual attraction clouding your judgment.”

  “I shared things with him I’ve never even told Bill.” Shame, regret, sadness washed over me when I admitted, “I opened up to him, Gretch. Did you know that Bill has still never asked me specifics about my scar? He doesn’t know about the hospital or what my mom did.”

  She blew out a breath. “You’d think as a lawyer, Bill would pay more attention to details.”

  “He knows it’s there,” I said. “It’s small, but it’s not invisible. He just doesn’t know how to talk about it. It means opening up a whole Pandora’s box of shit.”

  “But that’s what partners do,” she said. “He’s supposed help with that shit. You let him help.”

  “I don’t know if, deep down, he really wants to help.” I sighed and looked away. “The way he grew up, they didn’t talk about feelings. He’s used to fixing problems, and if he can’t, he ignores or trivializes them away.”