An Inconvenient Obsession

by Natasha Tate

  “No, I don’t,” he rasped. “After these past weeks, after all we’ve done together, I don’t. You gave me your virginity, for God’s sake. You let me touch you and hold you and you can’t tell me it meant nothing to you. I won’t believe that.”

  “Of course it meant something to me.” She forced the words through a throat gone tight with sorrow. “But that doesn’t change who we are. It doesn’t mean we can be together.”

  His fingers threatened to crush the fragile bones of her shoulders. Taking a steadying breath, he lowered his forehead against hers. “Cate,” he whispered, his pride wavering like a tangible offering of alms between them. “Don’t do this. Please. I can’t chart a future without you in it. I won’t know who I am.”

  Her eyes stung, her throat convulsed spasmodically and she could no longer stem the flood of her tears. They slid down her cheeks, burning tracks of pain and remorse along her jaw and neck. She jerked away from his grip, when all she wanted to do was burrow into his warmth and hold his sweet mouth to hers. “You’ll find someone,” she said in a quavering voice. “Someone whole who loves you, a healthy woman who makes you happy and whom you can treat as an equal. You’ll be grateful I didn’t accept this reckless proposal of yours and that you won’t have to forever live with the memory of the pain we’ve caused each other.”

  His jaw hardened and he dipped his head. He stood in silent contemplation for several long, weighted moments before he again lifted his gaze to hers. The desolate sheen in his eyes sent a chill through her, and she realized that his rejected love would soon reclaim its previous icy veneer of hatred.

  A hatred she knew would never dissipate, she thought bleakly, averting her eyes.

  He inhaled and stepped back, creating even more space in the growing gap of coldness between them. They stood that way, the brittle silence broken only by the hushed murmurings of the rain, until Cate mustered her courage and lifted her gaze to his once more. She couldn’t see the exotic blue of his eyes, only the glittering black of his pupils. He looked pale and grim in the dim light, his typical vitality tempered by bleak, embittered acceptance.

  She threaded her fingers together at her waist and swallowed thickly. “Please know that I only want you to be happy,” she finally whispered.

  He didn’t move so much as an eyelash. “Right.”

  Additional beats of silence, an oppressive mantle of despair that nearly bowed her shoulders with its weight, pressed down on her. “I think you’d better go,” she told him. Awkwardly, Cate offered her hand.

  He acted as if he didn’t see the gesture.

  Self-conscious and clumsy, she felt her hand start to tremble. She pulled it back, but he caught it before it reached her waist, and brought the back of her hand to his lips. The heat of his mouth against her skin made her knees weaken. “Goodbye, Cate,” he whispered.

  Her throat narrowed and a wintry shiver stole over her limbs as he released her wrist. She closed her fingers and brought her knotted fist to her ribs. Pressing hard, harder, as if she could relieve some of the pain that gathered within, she turned blindly as the old ache of her injuries rose up from deep within her bones.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ETHAN left without being aware of the rain, fury and grief descending upon him like a suffocating mantle from which there was no escape. He wanted to rage at the sky, to sprint back to Cate and convince her she was wrong, that he’d changed. Failing that, he wanted to beat his fists until they bled against the black marble and glass that now belonged to him.

  But it was over. He’d gambled his heart and lost.

  He entertained a fleeting thought of walking out into the cold embrace of the storm until he reached the sea and its cruel undertow. He wanted to be sucked out to the merciless, yawning maw of nothingness. To stop feeling so damn much.

  Black misery swamped his chest, making it hard to breathe. Great, gulping sobs fought for release, but he swallowed back the urge to weep, grimly mustering the control he’d honed for ten interminable years. He waited until the lights of Cate’s office turned dark against her windows before slowly, painfully making his way back to the car.

  He made it two miles before he had to pull off to the side of the road. For several long moments, he stared unseeing out into the black night until, shaking, he lowered his forehead to his whitened knuckles and wept.

  Cate didn’t really remember the next twenty-four hours. She spent most of it curled up in her childhood bed, miserably weeping until her eyes burned and breathing became a chore. The words they’d exchanged had annihilated what remained of her composure, and she fervently hoped to never see him again. She doubted she could keep herself from throwing herself at his feet, wailing out her forgiveness. Begging to recant her words, to accept him and love him, no matter the hurt of their past.

  Though her decision had been for the best, she couldn’t stop reliving the pain in his eyes. She knew the truth had wounded him in a way that was sure to leave yet another layer of deep, abiding scars. The grief and remorse that accompanied the knowledge that she’d caused him pain yet again, no matter whether he deserved it or not, had no outlet. She’d wrung herself dry, and yet the pain remained.

  By the next morning, she realized that she would live the rest of her days in coldness. No amount of time could chase the chill away. So she cranked up her radiator, burrowed beneath a pile of thick quilts and stared numbly out at the gray sea.

  She dozed fitfully until her back ached from being in one position for so long, until the glow of sunlight replaced the filtered light of dawn. A rattle at her door disturbed her sleep and she sat up blearily, staring at the twisting doorknob. She’d barely wiped aside the cobwebs of sleep when Mrs.

  Bartholomew, laden with a steaming tray, banged the door open and strode to glare down at Cate as if she’d disappointed her greatly. “Enough, Cate.”

  “Leave me alone,” Cate said with a disoriented grimace, lifting the blanket to her chin and flopping back onto her side.

  Mrs. Bartholomew flipped on an overhead lamp, flooding the cold room with brittle light. “You’ve moped enough, and I won’t tolerate any more of it. You need to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Too bad.” She stood over Cate with a frown. “Death looks better than you.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said wryly. “I feel like death, too, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to sleep. I’m tired.”

  “If the condition of your clothing and hair is any indication, you’ve already slept too much.”

  “So? It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  “I’ve supported you through a lot of foolishness, Cate, but this just takes the cake.”

  “I’m living my life the only way I know how,” she shot back with a flare of annoyance. “And I’m sorry if it doesn’t fit with your approval.”

  Mrs. Bartholomew waited a beat before answering, her mouth pulled into an irritated moue. “No, you’re not. You’re wallowing.”

  “What do you expect? Am I supposed to go merrily along my way, alone and childless and betrayed by the only man I’ve ever loved?”

  “I expect you to act like a grown woman, instead of throwing away your best chance at happiness.”

  Cate shook her head, her throat going tight and her chest feeling as though it was too narrow to draw breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Go away.”

  “No. I let you have it your way before, and I’ll be damned if I let you make another stupid decision about that boy.” She raised a pointed finger and skewered Cate with a slate-eyed glare. “You made a mistake ten years ago when you lied to Ethan and sent him away. I watched you grieve the loss of your best friend and limp along with your wounded heart, all so you could give Ethan what you thought he wanted. I watched you become reckless with your own life and your own safety because of it. I watched you nearly die. And I’m not willing to go through that again. I won’t.”

 
“I’m not asking you to.”

  “I stood by you for years while you relearned how to walk. And for what? So both you and Ethan could remain miserable and alone?”

  “Ethan won’t be alone for long. He’ll get what he wants.”

  “He wants you.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “I saw his face when he brought you all those gifts. Being with you lit him up inside, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

  “If he wanted me, he wouldn’t have betrayed me the way he has.”

  “Don’t you think he thought the very same thing about you? You made a mistake that just about killed him. And he’s made one now. It doesn’t mean you can’t forgive each other and move on.”

  “Yes, it does,” she insisted, her throat thickening with defensive tears. “Neither of us trusts the other. How can we move on from that?”

  “When are you going to understand, Cate? Life is never perfect. You work through mistakes and betrayals and pain to make it that way.”

  Cate looped her arms over her bent legs and knotted her fingers against her shins. Staring down at her whitened knuckles, she said, “I can’t forgive him.”

  “He forgave you.”

  She lifted her gaze to Mrs. Bartholomew’s, ruthlessly crushing the feeble agreement that stirred within her chest. “I didn’t hurt him out of hatred and revenge. I hurt him because I loved him.”

  “Pain is pain, sweetie, no matter the reason behind it.”

  Frustrated, muddled and feeling backed into a corner, Cate firmed her jaw and argued, “No, it isn’t.”

  Mrs. Bartholomew released a gusty sigh. “For heaven’s sake, Cate, he made a mistake. Just like you did. And I’ll bet my right arm he’s working to repair the damage. Isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Cate mumbled.

  “So why should you be allowed to carry a grudge when he isn’t?”

  A spark of irritation flared to life, sharpening Cate’s tone. “This isn’t a grudge!” she blurted. “Nothing would please me more than for him to find happiness and peace.”

  “If that isn’t a pack of lies, I don’t know what is.” Mrs. Bartholomew shot her a speaking glance. “Your entire life, you’ve been the one with the power. Oh, you’re a fine princess, kind and generous to a fault, and not a soul could ever doubt the goodness of your heart. But other than your father, God rest his soul, people are always left feeling a bit lacking around you.”

  “What a terrible thing to say!”

  “It’s not terrible, sweetie. It’s just the truth, and Ethan’s been doing his best to navigate it for years.”

  “Ruining Carrington Industries is his best?”

  Mrs. Bartholomew shrugged an unconcerned shoulder. “He hasn’t done anything that can’t be undone.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “You’re right. The point is that he loves you and you love him. Nothing else matters.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Why?”

  She bit her lower lip. Hard. Until the pain of her lip eclipsed the pain squeezing against her lungs. “Because.”

  Mrs. Bartholomew’s expression softened and she joined Cate on the wide bed. “Give him another chance, sweetheart. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but you’re strong enough to handle it.”

  Cate’s eyes blurred as she felt Mrs. Bartholomew’s soft, warm arm settle over her shoulders. The back of her nose burned. Her heart burned. Everything burned as she realized she’d rejected Ethan’s love because she was afraid. She’d wounded the man she loved because she was too scared to take a risk.

  Mrs. Bartholomew reached into her pocket for her ever-present supply of tissues. “Here,” she said, shoving a wad toward Cate. “Use this before you get snot all over your great-grandmother’s handmade quilts.”

  Cate straightened, dabbing at her running nose and eyes with the tissues. She felt horribly raw, as if she teetered on a tightrope over a forest of sharpened spikes. “I’m scared.”

  “Of course you are. But if you let fear rule your life, you’ll never be happy.”

  Closing her eyes, Cate felt anxiety well within her chest. Anxiety and a paralyzing fear. As much as she wished to deny it, she knew she’d never be able to fill the gaping hole Ethan’s absence would leave behind. Watching him meet and wed and love another would kill her by slow degrees. “Don’t you ever get tired of being right?”

  “Never.” Mrs. Bartholomew smiled, then leaned to offer a squeezing hug. “Go to him, for God’s sake. Put all of us out of our misery.”

  Cate had never been to Ethan’s temporary New York office before, and when she entered the giant glass-and-chrome space, the severe elegance of its lines made her wonder if he ever experienced any softness in his life anymore. She stepped through the twelve-foot glass doors and stood, silent and unnoticed, while burly moving men scurried from one room to another toting boxes. Her resolve wavered, urging her to abandon this crazy plan and escape with her dignity intact.

  They were readying the office for its transfer back to London, she rationalized. They were busy. He’d be busy. He wouldn’t wish to see her again, not after the way she’d rejected him. Again.

  But then she saw him through the slightly opened door of his personal office and she knew she’d always regret it if she didn’t at least try.

  She watched as he appeared and disappeared, pacing before a giant, sleek desk that dominated a room encased in chrome, black-stained mahogany and rippled glass blocks. She couldn’t make out his exact words, his voice muffled by the thick gray carpet and panels of glass, but she could see that he was angry. He barked something into his phone, then clicked it shut with a scowl. Turning on his heel, he shoved the cell phone in his pocket and lifted his eyes.

  Their gazes collided and she watched him recoil as if he’d been struck. Nervous and scared, she tried to move toward him, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her rebellious muscles refused to heed her frantic orders. So she remained frozen while her heart beat painfully against her ribs and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  Ethan was not as incapacitated as she. His door was ripped aside with a violence that drew a gasp from Cate, and he stormed toward her with fury twisting his mouth into a scowl. Panicked, she braced herself for his anger, curling inward as he drew close.

  He bent to grasp her arm as if he were expecting her to flee. The tight grip of his fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arm, making her wince. Cate dared to meet his gaze, thinking she hardly recognized this angry stranger glowering down at her. Looking at him now, she would have never believed he’d once held her, kissed her and pleasured her with such gentle care as he had.

  “Why the hell are you here, Cate?” he asked, his harsh words abrading her cowering heart. He lowered his voice and ground out, “Wasn’t one afternoon of ‘you’re never going to change and we have no future’ enough?”

  “No,” she blurted, then quickly shook her head. “I mean yes. I mean—” She stopped talking and inhaled, choosing her words with care. “I was wrong.”

  He shoved her back, releasing her as if the mere touch of her arm repulsed him. “About what?”

  “About us.” She moved forward, stopping just shy of touching him, and tipped her face to peer into his wintry eyes. “I forgive you.”

  Though she’d not thought it possible, his expression became even more closed and remote. “I’m not interested in your forgiveness anymore.”

  “I forgive you anyway.”

  Ethan’s expression hardened as he stared at her. As inscrutable as always, his face gave no hints as to his feelings or thoughts. Worried he’d toss her out bodily, Cate searched frantically for the correct words, the perfect combination of syllables to make him soften. To make him hear. But then she saw the tic of his pulse just beneath his jaw and its violent beat sent a rush of hope through her. She may have killed his love for her, he might wish her gone, but her presence unnerved him. Regardless of the mask of indifference he’d donned, she affected
him.

  Cognizant of the way her words had battered his pride, she mustered her courage and offered him her own to flay. Vulnerable, scared and completely at his mercy, she implored, “I know you’re probably thinking it’s just me being charitable, but it’s not.”

  Yet another silence unfurled between them, Ethan’s jaw so tight that the muscles in his neck twitched. “Damn it, Cate,” he finally breathed, his shoulders lowering a fraction.

  Dizzying relief spun through her. “Do you have someplace private we could talk?”

  “My office.” He turned on his heel and strode away from her.

  They reached the threshold of Ethan’s office and she scurried in after him before drawing to a stumbling halt. Bare nails gave mute evidence to the artwork that had once hung along the walls, while deep dents in the carpet belied the previous position of various chairs. The room was empty, save for the plush carpet, the wide desk and two walls of shuttered windows.

  Ethan didn’t slow until he reached the half-closed mahogany shutters, his broad back as tense and welcoming as a wall of granite. Silence descended, thick and heavy, as Cate slowly moved toward him. Uncomfortable, nervous and wretchedly afraid now that the moment was here, Cate worried that she’d only muck things up further, that her bumbling words would solicit only more anger.

  As if divining her wavering resolve, Ethan turned to face her with a scowl. “What changed your mind?”

  Stalling for time, Cate backtracked to the door and turned the lock with a soft click. “I have a confession to make.” She turned to face him, her hands gripping the handle of his door at the base of her spine. Cate couldn’t contain her nervousness. Violent shivers claimed her limbs, making her teeth chatter. She clenched her jaw and relaxed her hands, forcing herself to walk back to the center of the cavernous office.

  After an interminable pause, Ethan stepped grimly toward her, his icy glare upping the tension that pervaded the air. “I’m listening.”