She threw her hands out in frustration. “Because I needed time to decide! Without any pressure!”
“Don’t pretend like I pressured you at all.” Maybe my parents had, but she didn’t get to play the pressured card. She’d had way more choice in the matter than I’d had.
She slammed her earrings on the bedside table and gave me a look that said I was being awfully dumb. “Just your existence was pressure. Any mention of the Sebastian name—and the Sebastian name is everywhere in New York City—and all I could think about was this looming, life-changing decision I had to make. It was suffocating, Scott. I had to go someplace off the map, cut off from everything and everyone in order to be able to even think clearly.”
I was well aware of how hard it was to run from the Sebastian name.
Still, I couldn’t help but think her response to what had been presented to her as the opportunity of a lifetime was both over-the-top and spoiled.
Which was neither here nor there and not what I wanted to be mad about, and I definitely wanted to be mad. “So you had to decide, fine. But you should have talked to me about it when you did decide so that I knew what tonight was going to be when I got the invite—excuse me, the command—to show up here. I walked in blind, Kendra. You wearing the ring, flashing it for everyone. Introducing me to your employees and friends as your fiancé. I didn’t even get the invite from you. I heard from my fucking mother. What the hell?”
She shrugged. “Technically, she’s the one who proposed.”
“That’s not the fucking point.” My voice was barely restrained. I was barely restrained. I wanted to smash my hand through the wall. Or throw something. Preferably, that ostentatious ring. Bonus if Kendra was still wearing it when I did.
My rage must have been evident because Kendra actually looked sorry. “Look. I don’t know what the big deal is. Your family made an offer, one that you seemed to be fully behind at the time, and now I’ve accepted it. Your parents sure seemed happy that I did. I didn’t realize there had to be a big to-do between me and you about it. What does it even matter? We already said we’re going to fuck who we want in our marriage, and I can’t think of anything else this partnership would affect, so why does this change anything?”
“It just does.” She had every right to be confused. I was confused as well. It wasn’t as if I had ever thought I’d end up with someone I loved. Shit, I didn’t even know what love was. And with the agreement that we could fuck who we wanted, there really wasn’t any reason why getting married would affect my current lifestyle.
That had been my thought back when I’d agreed to the whole thing anyway.
Now, though, there was Tess.
“Hold on. Are you having second thoughts?” Kendra’s expression said she hadn’t even considered that as a possibility.
The smart answer was to say no. The smart course of action was to stick to the agreement. It was definitely not smart to throw away my life plans for a woman I’d only known for three weeks.
“Yes, actually. I am.” So fuck being smart. It was honest.
Her brows creased in. “But what about—”
“I know,” I cut her off. “I know what’s on the fucking line. I don’t need the reminder.” I got it enough from my parents on a daily basis. I didn’t need it from my wife-to-be as well.
Potential wife-to-be.
Even adding the qualifier didn’t make the term any less nauseating.
Fortunately, Kendra was more understanding now that I’d admitted I was rethinking our agreement. “Okay. What do you need?”
I needed to get my head on straight, was what I needed. I needed to clear my mind of romantic notions that were obviously based in lust. I needed to stop being so stupid.
I needed to stop thinking that thing I needed was Tess.
“I need time,” I said, echoing what Kendra had said the day my parents had first proposed the idea of our union. Not that time would change the situation, but I couldn’t discuss it anymore with her tonight. She couldn’t fix what I needed her to fix even if I did.
I wasn’t sure anyone could.
“Where’s my room?” I asked, suddenly exhausted.
“We’re both in here,” she said, standing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Only now did I spot my suitcase across the room, on the other side of the bed. The butler had taken it when I’d arrived. I’d assumed he’d taken it to my own room. It wasn’t like Kendra and I needed to keep up pretenses for anyone in the household. Her parents knew as well as mine it was a marriage of convenience, not attraction. Why on earth had we been put together?
“You don’t need to be so disgusted,” she said, wriggling out of her dress. “We’ve fucked before, or was that as easy to forget as our engagement?”
“Under totally different circumstances. We aren’t even friends, Kendra.” I kept my eyes on hers, even though she was stripped down to her underwear. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a nice body—she did—and the night we’d spent together had been fine enough. Just, I wasn’t interested. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Well, there are no rooms,” she said, grabbing a pair of pajama shorts from a dresser drawer and slamming it shut. “The Uyghur triplets have the rooms in the opposite wing. Then your parents and Tess; this is the only room left.”
So Tess was in this wing. The closed door we’d passed. My spine tingled with the knowledge, like an antenna receiving an incoming message or the buzz of an appliance when it was plugged in.
I didn’t bother getting my suitcase. There was really nothing I needed in it. I left Kendra’s room, telling her, “I’ll sleep on a couch.”
I had absolutely no intention of sleeping on a couch.
Three
Tess
“Seriously?” I said out loud to the empty room when the knock came on my door. I’d been lying on the bed with a washcloth over my eyes, hoping to minimize any signs of crying, but I’d still been aware of the activity below.
Or rather, the lack of activity.
The front door had stopped opening and shutting. There hadn’t been the sound of voices from outside or engines starting for almost twenty minutes. The party was obviously over.
Which meant that Kendra was now free to ignore my plea to wait until tomorrow and was instead knocking on my door.
Typical.
At least she hadn’t just barged in, which would also have been typical.
With a sigh, I threw the washcloth aside and heaved myself off of the bed, straightening the slip dress that I hadn’t had the energy to change out of as I stood. Then I padded over to the door and forced a smile as I opened it.
“Kendra, I really don’t—” My smile dropped as soon as I saw that it wasn’t my boss standing there but rather my lover.
My fucking engaged lover.
“No, no, no, no.” I started to shut the door, but he wedged his shoulder and a shoe in before I could get it closed.
“Just hear me out,” he said softly. Pleading.
The me that had last spoken to him would have let him in right away, not because that me wanted to hear what he had to say, but because she desperately wanted him to understand why she had made that pitch when she hadn’t been authorized.
The last two hours of solitude, though, had given me time to reprioritize my emotions. Yes, I still cared first and foremost for the DRF—well, at least that’s what I was telling myself—but now I was less worried about the lie I’d told and more pissed about the lie Scott had told.
I was almost as pissed at him as I was at myself for having fallen for yet another player’s game.
And while it would certainly feel good to go off on him in the way that I so keenly desired to go off on him, I’d decided the better choice was to have nothing to do with him at all. For the DRF’s sake, but mine as well.
And after I confessed what I’d done to Kendra tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to have anything to do with him. She’d take over negotiations, or she’d kill the wh
ole thing. Either way, I wouldn’t have to talk to Scott Sebastian ever again.
Except that here he was, insistently trying to wheedle his way into my room.
“There’s nothing for you to say, Scott. Go away. You’re making a scene.” He wasn’t, really, but I was astutely aware of Kendra’s bedroom just down the hall.
“I’m not leaving until you let me talk.” He was stronger than me and had already worked more of his leg in without even trying.
Goddammit.
If I didn’t let him in, this would turn into a scene.
I swung the door open, so abruptly that he tripped as he came in. I stifled a chuckle. Served him right. He still looked debonair despite his bobbling entrance and the loose tie around his neck.
Fuck, he was hot. Stupid hot. As always.
I took a step back—as if a handful of inches could diminish his effect on me—and crossed my arms protectively over my chest. “Speak.”
He started to move forward, and I took another step back, my hand flying out to stop him. “Nope. This is my space. Do not invade. You can say what you need to say from there.”
I probably should have established these kinds of boundaries with him from day one. Better late than never.
His mouth was a straight line, but the pinch of his forehead between his brows gave away his frustration. “Fine. I’ll stay here.”
It was a meager win, yet the victory made me drunk enough to push for another. “And when you’ve said your piece, you leave.”
“Sure,” he said flatly. “If you let me explain then I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
I was sure there was a catch, beyond the catch that just allowing him in my presence was dangerous, but it was the best bet I had at getting him to go away.
My arms back over my chest, I cocked my hip. “Well?”
Now that he had my attention, he seemed not to know what to do with it. He ran a hand over his face, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not what you think,” he said finally.
“Oh, no.” Fuck, no. “We’re not having a conversation where you deliver all the stereotypical bullshit that you think you should say when you’ve been caught playing a girl. That’s a waste of my time, and I’ve already given you more than you deserve.”
He frowned. “That...that hurts. But fair.”
“Fuck your hurt.” Especially fuck his hurt because his expression tugged at my chest and made me want to wrap my arms around him, which was definitely not something I should be doing ever again.
It’s a tactic, I reminded myself. He knows how to give good game. So good, I could never possibly win.
The only solution was to stop playing. I looked him square in the eye for the first time since he’d come to my room, pretending I was bolder than I felt. “Now do you have anything worth listening to, or are you ready to leave?”
“I…” His face changed. “Have you been crying?”
Goddammit.
“No.” More false bravado on my part.
His shoulders drooped. “Tessa, I’m sorry,” he said, starting a step toward me then rethinking it. “I hate that I’ve made you cry.”
And I hated that he knew I had.
But also I hated that he automatically assumed he was responsible, which of course he was, and mostly I hated that I’d even cried in the first place.
If I didn’t turn that hate into anger, I’d start crying again in front of him. “Fuck off. Who said I was even crying over you? I have more important things on the line here than a dumb boy.”
Mentally, I told myself to listen to my words.
“The foundation. Of course.” It was almost worth it to hear smallness in his voice. Like it probably wasn’t the first time he’d had to confront the idea that the world didn’t revolve around him, but it was a notion that was embarrassingly difficult for him to grasp.
Then he was back to his assured self. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
“And my job.”
“I’ll take care of that too.”
“God, I don’t want your—” Pity/privilege/help. I wanted him to realize that even his mega last name couldn’t fix everything.
But I didn’t actually know that was true.
And I couldn’t turn his help away. Because of the foundation. If I had to accept that help at the moment, though, I definitely would cry.
“I don’t want to talk about that right now, please.” Please? Like he deserves manners. “And I’m guessing that isn’t what you came here to talk about either.”
“No, it’s not. I’m just having a hard time figuring out where to start with the rest.”
Watching him struggle wasn’t helping me either. “Let me help you—you’re engaged. You fucked around on your fiancée like the player that I knew you were from day one. I should have known better. And no, I won’t tell Kendra, but only because I want to be through with this whole fucked-up situation, not because I have any desire to protect your stupid ass. There. No speech needed, and you can go.”
I sounded exhausted and resigned because I was, and I needed him to leave so I could sleep it off and deal with this whole fiasco tomorrow.
“It’s not a real engagement,” he said bluntly. He let that sit for a second, seeming to realize it was a bomb that needed time to fully explode. “And you can tell Kendra anything you want because it’s not a real relationship.”
I quelled the hope leaping in my chest, reminding myself that he was as smooth as satin. “Well, that’s a line I haven’t heard before.”
“It’s not a line.” Shifting his weight, he let out a frustrated huff. “Listen, remember how I told you I wanted to get out of PR? I’ve been bugging my dad about it for years. I know the job. I’m good at the job. But I’m sick and tired of covering up all his scandals. It’s not fun. It makes me feel like shit.”
“Skip the emotional stuff. I don’t care about your feelings.” No way was I going to feel sympathy for him.
“Anyway, I was over it. So finally, I asked him what I had to do to get moved to another division. I’d even settle for consumer goods. Whatever to get out of PR. He said I had to get married. Suitably married. He’d give me a seat on the board, too, if I let my parents pick the bride.”
Uh... “And you agreed to that?”
“I. Well. Yes. I had no reason not to.”
That stung for some reason. Maybe simply because he looked as though he’d expected it to sting. Or maybe because it solidified what I already knew—that rich men cared about the world differently than not-rich women.
He rushed to expand. “I’m thirty-five years old, Tess. I’ve never had a relationship that I wanted to be more than casual. Or I hadn’t back then. I’d never expected to end up in a marriage based on love. It seemed like it was probably the right time.”
I ignored his effort to change the tense of what he’d wanted in a relationship. “So Kendra…”
“So my mother has known the Montgomerys for years and has had her eye on Kendra for a long time. She checked all her boxes—came from the right background, had the right kind of education and job, moved around in the right circles. We sat down with her, talked about it. Made sure she agreed that there was no expectation of monogamy.”
He emphasized the last line, obviously wanting the fact to be clear.
It meant little to me. Engaged was engaged. “And she said yes. I don’t know what your definition of real is because that sounds like a real engagement to me.”
“That’s just it—she didn’t say yes. She said she needed time to think about it. Then she ghosted. That was three fucking months ago. The next time I had any contact with her was tonight, when I showed up here, and she was wearing the stupid ring my mother had given her. No one told me she’d agreed. I was as blindsided as you.”
It was a hell of a story.
I let it sink in, examining the parts so I could appreciate the whole. Kendra ghosting for three months. Yeah, that sounded like her. Spontaneously showing
up like she’d been there the whole time was on par as well. “That’s really fucked up.”
“Tell me about it.” He sounded more relieved than I liked.
He didn’t get to be relieved. Not when I was still tied up in knots. “Her showing up out of nowhere is fucked up—and no, I don’t agree you were as blindsided as I was, because I was the one completely in the dark—but also the whole thing is fucked up, Scott. An arranged marriage? That’s the stuff of fiction, not real life.”
“It’s my real life.”
Oh, no. There it was. The urge to feel sorry for him.
I threw my head back and covered my mouth with my hands, as if that could suffocate the feelings inside before they became anything.
But they were already there, alive and beating against my chest like the djembe drummers at the Times Square subway station.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” And what would have changed if he had? Would I have resisted the pull between us? Would I have said, hey, open relationship means open bed?
The look Scott gave me said he also saw the futility. “What was I supposed to say? I’m really into you, and oh, by the way, I might be engaged to your boss except not really because if she ever shows up again, I’m going to tell her the deal’s off, and yeah, I must be fucking crazy because I’m throwing away my life’s ambitions for a girl I’ve only known for three weeks.”
My breath stuttered as tiny fireworks went off in my chest.
Nope, nope, nope. I wasn’t special. I couldn’t be special. “There’s really nothing between you and Kendra?”
“Nothing.”
“You told me you’d fucked her.”
“Two years ago when we were both tipsy at a party. I’ve hardly spoken to her since.”
Whoa. There was something in the world that belonged more to me than to Kendra Montgomery. And it was Scott Sebastian. Her fiancé.
Man in Love Page 3
