“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Sarah. I’m hoping we can negotiate a new contract”—this time his grin reached his eyes, while tears pricked mine, and not the good kind—“where you become my wife. I want to be with you, always, and I’m not just saying that. You know I mean what I say, and I mean this.”
Ice coated my veins. How could he be so cruel as to use our catchphrase, now of all times? Was he making a mockery of everything we shared? I couldn’t listen to this anymore. If he wanted to remind me of our contract, he did a fine job. Not that I forgot. I knew what he expected. He didn’t need to break my heart in the process, but of course he didn’t realize that’s what he was doing. He had no idea I had fallen in love with him.
It was such a stupid thing to do, and I promised myself I wouldn’t, but the heart was a fickle beast. I had to tell him. Not here, not now, not with the cameras rolling, but in private. I couldn’t leave tonight without him knowing. If I didn’t tell him, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Screw awkwardness. We’d get over it, but I would never get over withholding something so big from him.
“I’m sorry, Evan. I can’t.” He was in the middle of saying something I hadn’t heard, too lost in my own thoughts to listen to another word. I couldn’t take it. I had to go. I would find him later to explain, tell him the truth, and bear the consequences. It might end our partnership or make working together difficult, but nothing could be worse than continuing this charade without telling him how I felt. My heart was done handling the pressure. It was time to come clean.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, letting go of his hands. The hurt radiating from his brown eyes was not what I expected. Was it an act for the cameras? He couldn’t react joyously, or they would suspect something wasn’t right. I hated that it was an act. I despised this situation, the deal we made, this entire damn show, everything. I hated it all. I had to get out of here.
34
Bedroom Issues
I ran up the path to the hotel and straight to my room, where I opened the door and slammed it in the cameraman’s face. I was in such a daze that I failed to realize I’d lost my shoes somewhere along the way. Fuck them. The show could have them. I threw myself on the bed and screamed into my pillow. It did nothing to soothe the pain in my chest. My entire body ached like I’d ran a marathon, and my heart was beating a mile a minute. This was what dying felt like. I was sure of it. Part of me died on that beach.
“God, that proposal,” I whispered to myself. His words. He threw every little nuance between us back at me. Did he think it was cute? Clever? Because it wasn’t. It hurt like hell. I wanted to hate him for it, but it was my fault for not telling him how I felt. I played it off like I was fine with our temporary relationship—enjoying the moment and forgetting the future. I would tell him tonight. Whenever I stopped crying.
I punched the pillow over and over, willing it to make me feel better. It didn’t. Nothing would help except talking to Evan. I had to know if that look in his eyes was fake or real. Had my rejection hurt him? But he wanted me to say no. His speech was proof of that. All those damn reminders of our contract. God, I hated that contract. I would burn it when I got home. It ruined my life. I should have left when I had the chance.
But then you never would have fallen in love with Evan . . .
“Fuck.” I repeated the word with each punch into my pillow. Falling in love with Evan was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. I was content before I knew how that emotion felt, but now that I knew about it, I couldn’t live without it. Love opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed, one with romance and pleasure beyond my wildest dreams. I couldn’t hate Evan for introducing me to this, not when so much happiness preceded the pain. I had to tell him. Tonight.
I tore off my gown and replaced it with jeans, a tank top, and sandals. If I was going to him, I would at least be comfortable. He texted me his room number last night after telling me he left a copy of the key for me at the reception. I had picked it up with the intention of joining him, but he sent me another text on my way up letting me know that his parents had arrived. An hour later, he told me not to bother because it didn’t look like they were leaving anytime soon. I hoped he was in the same room. He shouldn’t have left for home yet. It was the middle of the night. Surely he stayed.
I got in the elevator and hit the button to his floor, key in hand. If his parents were there, I would ask them to leave. The show didn’t matter anymore and neither did our quiet arrangement. I didn’t care who found out. I stepped into his hallway and stared at his door. It was now or never. I knocked. When no one answered, I used the key. It worked and revealed a massive foyer of a penthouse suite. It was two stories and opened into a living area that overlooked a patio pool. The life of a billionaire.
The darkness revealed no one in the living room, kitchen, or outside. I moved toward the light down the hall, coming from what I assumed was a bedroom. I turned the knob without knocking. A big mistake.
My hand went to my mouth and fluttered uselessly there. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even breathe. The first thing I saw was Amber’s naked ass and Evan’s hands on her bare shoulders. They were standing beside the unmade bed. His pants were on, thank God, but he was shirtless. Had they just finished fucking?
The asshole met my gaze over the blonde’s head and had the audacity to narrow his eyes. I glowered right back at him. “I guess you really do mean what you say, huh, Evan?” I turned on my heels and stalked out of his suite. Un-fucking-believable. After everything we’d been through, he was fucking Amber behind my back. Or maybe it was new. Now that the show was over, we were free to screw whomever we wanted. Either way, it sucked. And I hated him for it.
“What the fuck, Sarah?” Evan demanded as he followed me into the hallway. “How did you even get into my room? And have you heard of knocking?”
“Are you kidding me right now? You gave me a key, genius. And I did knock, but you were too busy screwing Amber to answer.” I punched the button for the elevator. I really wanted to hit something. His face would do.
“What were you doing in my room?”
“I came up to talk to you, something I now see was a huge mistake.” Anytime now would be great, Mister Elevator.
“About what? Your money?”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure. That was it.” Like I would admit the real reason after catching him in the act with another woman. I clearly meant nothing to him.
The elevator opened, and I stepped inside. His hand shot out to keep it from closing. “You don’t need to worry, Sarah. You held up your side of the bargain brilliantly, and you’ll get your funding.” His tone was scathing and went straight to my heart. “My finance guy will be in touch. No need to work through me at all. Anything else I can help you with?”
I gaped at him. He was angry with me for, what, following through on the contract? He was the one already rebounding with another woman, or hell, who knew what happened between him and Amber in France? Maybe he was fucking her the entire time.
“Miss Summers,” he prompted, his gaze furious. “Do you require me for anything else, or can I get back to the issue in my bedroom?”
“Yeah, that’s some issue you’ve got. Go for it, Casanova. My bank account and I are thoroughly satisfied with your services.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying to him. I loved this man up until ten minutes ago when he ripped my heart out of my chest. This hurt worse than the beach. What the hell was wrong with me? I was the even-keeled one, not the hotheaded one. Jesus, Sarah. Get a grip.
“You can’t really be upset with me about Amber, can you? You turned down my proposal just three hours ago. Hell, you wouldn’t even let me finish.”
“Yes, and you were obviously really upset about that. So upset that you’re already entertaining another woman, huh? Or were you fucking her the entire time?”
“The fact that you’re asking me that tells me how very wrong I was about everything between us.” He shook his head. “Good-bye
, Sarah.”
He removed his arm from the elevator and allowed it to shut. His words followed me all the way to my floor. They didn’t make any sense, but one thing was very clear. I would not be accepting the money from Evan Mershano. I could not be tied to that man in any way. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
35
Secrets and Chinese Food
6 weeks later . . .
Rachel stormed into her apartment, muttering a colorful litany of curse words. It was impressive, if a little scary.
“You okay over there, Rach?” I was lounging on the sofa, working on a project for the public health firm I volunteered for in college. They hired me back on a part-time basis last month after I begged them for a job. Without a reference from Stern and Associates, I wasn’t having much luck getting a new full-time gig in Chicago. Everyone wanted an explanation for why I quit without notice, and I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it yet.
“No.” Rachel slammed her purse down on the kitchen counter and stalked off to her bedroom. I gave her space and waited for her to come back. When she did, she was dressed in pajama pants and a tank top, and her blonde hair was tousled up into a bun. My eyebrows hit my hairline. Rachel’s dressing down at this early hour was not a good sign. “What’s going on?”
“I’d offer you wine, but I don’t feel like sharing. And you’re going to work in a few hours anyway.” She pulled a fresh bottle from the fridge, opened it, and poured herself a healthy glass. She was halfway finished with it before collapsing beside me on the couch. “I fucking hate my job right now.”
“Bad day at work, then?”
“You have no idea.”
“Want to talk about it?” I didn’t know much about being a lawyer, but I understood bad work days. They were my norm as of late.
“You’ll never believe . . .” She gave me an odd look and took a long sip of wine. “Actually, you know what? I don’t even want to talk about it.”
I knew my best friend better than she knew herself sometimes, which meant I knew when she was lying. She had a tell, a tick in her lower jaw. I was about to press when the door buzzer went off. Her blue eyes rounded. “Tell me you’re expecting someone.”
“Who would I be expecting?” I moved in last weekend. Three part-time jobs weren’t paying enough to cover rent and my student loans. Rachel offered me a spot until I could get back on my feet. Her two-bedroom flat had more than enough space, boasting two full bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, and living area. I envied her lawyer salary.
The door buzzed again. I got to my feet. “I guess I’ll get that.” Because Rachel didn’t look like she was going to move anytime soon. What had gotten into her? Did Ryan come to see her today? That would explain her mood. Her ex showed up at the most inopportune times. If he was here now, I’d send him back to hell. He would never touch my best friend again.
My confidence deflated as I checked the peephole. “Shit.” What was Will doing here? I cracked open the door and met the trademark Mershano gaze that haunted my dreams at night. My heart hurt looking at him. “Hey, Will.”
His blond eyebrows lifted. “Sarah? What are you doing here?”
“She fucking lives here, Mershano,” Rachel yelled from the couch. “Go home.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought you had a place by the water or something?”
I wasn’t sure how he knew that, but I didn’t bother to ask. “Not anymore.” I forced a smile. “What brings you to our apartment?” And if you’re not here for me, why are you here? Why would he visit Rachel?
“Dinner.” He held up a paper bag and walked past me into the apartment. “I only brought enough for two, but I’ll order more.” He set the food on the dining room table and removed his leather jacket. The scent reminded me of Evan, but the brazenness was all Will. He meandered into the kitchen, found the plates and silverware on his first guess, and walked back to start distributing food.
“Sure, come right in and make yourself at home.” Rachel looked like she was considering throwing her empty wine glass at the intruder’s head. Interesting.
“Thanks, darlin’.” He flashed her a dimple and continued preparing dinner. “So how’s the new firm going, Sarah? Everything coming along okay?”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “Uh . . .”
“Seriously?” Rachel stalked into the kitchen and poured herself more wine. “I thought I made myself clear this morning. I’m not working for you.”
“Right, and as I said, you’ll be working with me.” He waggled his brows and pushed a plate toward her. Sesame chicken with broccoli and fried rice. Rachel’s favorite. Her blue eyes narrowed, but admiration swirled in their depths. My best friend was impressed. I was, too.
She picked up the dish and gave Will a measured look. “Accepting this doesn’t mean I accept your proposal.”
“Uh-huh.” He winked at her and pushed the other plate toward me. “I’ll order myself something else.”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself. I’ve got work in an hour and have to get ready. You two, uh, enjoy.” Something was up with them. Was this why Rachel came home in a huff?
“It’s almost seven o’clock.” He took a bite of his beef dish. The red pepper flakes gave it a spicy scent. “Isn’t marketing a day job?”
“Mostly.” I closed my laptop on the couch and stowed it in my messenger bag. “Bartending, however, is a night job.”
He stopped chewing and gave me a once-over. “Bartending?”
“Yep.” I gave Rachel a look that said, You’re explaining this to me later, and walked into my room to change. The red halter top and jean skirt reminded me of college, but I earned good tips wearing it. I threw it on, pulled my thick hair into a high ponytail, and put on a pair of strappy heels. Not my favorite job, but it paid the bills. I touched up my makeup and applied concealer to hide the bags beneath my eyes.
I didn’t sleep much these days. Every night I dreamt of him. The “time heals all wounds” rhetoric didn’t apply to my broken heart. It hurt just as much today as it did six weeks ago when I left Maui. I flew coach back to Chicago. It was a slap in the face, and all I could think about was Amber on his private jet. I hated him, and I loved him.
I never developed the photos from our trip to Iceland. The camera he gave me was packed away in a box in the closet. I refused to look at it. It hurt too much. Some nights I considered burning it, but whenever I got the nerve to retrieve it, I started to cry. I was a mess.
His finance guy called me to discuss the money a few days after I returned. I told him I wasn’t ready and would call him when the time was right. That appeased him for three weeks. When he phoned me a second time, he asked for a timeline, and I told him I didn’t have one. The other two times he reached out to me, I ignored him. Whenever my confidence returned, I would tell him to take a hike. Given my weak state, that would be a while.
When I walked back out into the living room, it was to find Rachel and Will engaged in a heated debate. They both stopped talking and watched me pick up my purse. Yeah, guys, not awkward at all. My best friend had a lot of explaining to do later.
Rachel cleared her throat. “You’re working at Louie’s tonight, right?”
“Yep.” I bartended at two places, both within walking distance of the apartment. They were more than happy to hire me, stating that my experience made me perfect for the job. As both managers were male, I knew the real reason had nothing to do with my brain and everything to do with how my breasts looked in a red halter top.
Will shook his head and walked off in the direction of Rachel’s bedroom, his phone going to his ear.
“William Mershano, now you listen to me.” My friend stalked off after him as he shut the door to her room and locked himself inside. She pounded on the wood and started up another litany of colorful curses.
“You and I are going to have an interesting conversation later, Rach.” If I didn’t have to get to the bar, we would be having it now.
“Oh, this is nothing and n
ot at all what it looks like.” She knocked again, her voice rising to a shout. “He’s just a pompous ass who thinks he owns the damn place!”
“Uh-huh.” The pink coloring on her cheeks suggested otherwise. Rachel Dawson never lost her temper, but the billionaire winemaker had gotten under her skin. It seemed my best friend left out some pertinent details about what happened when Will came here to negotiate the infamous contract. She hadn’t mentioned him once since I returned, but their bickering indicated he hadn’t just shown up out of the blue. They’d kept in touch. Interesting. “I’ve gotta get going. Good luck with that.” I gestured to her door.
“I might need your help hiding a body later,” she muttered.
“That’s what friends are for, right?” I gave her a wave and left before she could see the tears fighting for life behind my eyes. The stark reminder of Evan was the last thing I needed. He hadn’t once tried to contact me. Not that I expected him to. We didn’t leave on happy terms. That was my biggest regret. Those final hours tainted our relationship, ruining all the good memories and replacing them with heartache.
The experience changed me. I lost everything—my job, my livelihood, and the love of my life—all in one night. My mom wanted me to move home, not in with Rachel. But going back to Indiana would be the ultimate sign of failure. I couldn’t handle that. I needed to find myself again, and I couldn’t do that in Fishers. Chicago was big enough for me to hide and reinvent the wheel.
Abby felt horrible. Whether it was because I found love and lost it or because she destroyed my life with a stupid prank, I wasn’t sure. My plan for revenge was put on hold due to Rachel’s sexy fed friend being pulled into a case, but I fully intended to see it through when he was available. The lull would make my sister complacent, and that’s when I would strike. Her apologies weren’t about the prank so much as about setting my heart up to be broken. Feeling bad for me was not the same as understanding why what she did was wrong. It was time for her to grow up.
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