Two little words sent the world crashing down on me. This had to be a joke. Not two minutes earlier, I’d been excited to be home, couldn’t wait to see Daniel to tell him about my day. His generosity had made so much of it possible.
I fought to keep the hot tears pooling in my eyes at bay, the man I loved a blurry vision sitting across from me like a stranger.
"I've secured an apartment for you and deposited a generous sum of money into your account. You can keep your credit cards. It's not fair for me to turn you out with nothing." His lips were moving. I heard bits and pieces, but none of it registered. All I could do was stare blankly at him. "If the money isn't enough, I'll take care of it."
Each word was like a slap, stinging my heart instead of my cheeks.
I tried to take a deep breath but came up short.
"No." It was all I could manage under the circumstances, and it felt like quite an accomplishment.
"No?" he repeated incredulously, eyes flaring, sparking my senses to life.
“No,” I reiterated, this time with some backbone. “Don’t make this difficult.”
My eyes narrowed. “Did you think I would make it easy?” I growled, clenching my jaw.
“Have you ever.” It wasn’t a question, the acid in his tone burning my gut. That was one of the things he’d liked best about me. I didn’t do anything the easy way.
“How about we rewind, Daniel. Because I’m having a hard time catching up.” I took in a deep breath to steady my temper and adjusted my attitude in hopes of figuring out just what the hell was happening.
“No, you aren’t. You simply don’t like what I’m telling you.”
“Damn straight about that,” I confirmed with a nod. “Why don’t you fill in the gap between what happened this morning and now? Because when you made love to me last night, leaving me didn’t seem to be—” I stopped abruptly, thinking about the way he had woken me at two a.m.
Oh. I deflated. I hadn’t seen it then, but now it was clear. He’d been saying goodbye.
One dark brow lifted. He knew I’d put at least one piece of the puzzle together.
“What happened?” I whispered. I searched his face for a sign of something—anything—and came up short. I didn’t know this man staring at me. This was the one who went on lockdown, who refused to let anyone inside the vault with him. Except didn’t he realize I was already there?
“We’ve run our course,” he said indifferently.
I shot to my feet and came around the desk until I was beside him. He didn’t turn, so I swiveled his chair, forcing him to face me. I shoved between his thighs and cupped his cheeks. “You can’t just cut out your heart and throw it away. It doesn’t work like that.” A tear slipped down my cheek, and Daniel tensed against me, the only tangible sign that he was uncomfortable.
There wasn’t just steel around him, but a wall of ice too. “The time has come.”
“Liar,” I whispered, bringing my mouth closer until it hovered above his.
“I’ve never lied to you,” he promised. And he wasn’t lying now. I could see it in his eyes.
“Then tell me when I stopped being your everything,” I challenged, keeping our faces mere millimeters apart. For a fraction of a second, he stopped breathing. A short burst of heat hit my mouth when he spoke.
“This is the way it has to be. It’s the way it’s always had to be.”
“You can’t do it. You can’t tell me,” I taunted, hope taking root inside my heart that this was Daniel being stubborn because he’d made up his mind about how he wanted to do things. Without explanation. Because God forbid he ever be forthcoming without me having to fight for every answer.
He rolled his chair backward, increasing the distance between us, like he couldn’t stand to be near me a second longer. As if he’d pushed me, I stumbled, reaching for the desk, needing its support. I struggled to stay on my feet as tears clouded my vision.
“This is wrong,” I choked out, not bothering to swipe away the moisture on my cheeks.
The chair moved a hair’s breadth toward me before reversing course.
“This is what’s best for you,” he said hoarsely, his mouth contorting downward, those strong hands that knew every inch of me gripping his thighs.
“When did I stop getting a say in that?” I asked, throat raw. “Please.” I didn’t know what he was asking me for, but there was
pain in the word. “Don’t cry. One day you’ll see I’m right.” His fingers twitched, and I held my breath. For a fleeting second, I thought he would touch me. But he didn’t.
“You already know you’re wrong,” I countered.
“The time for us has come to an end,” Daniel replied resolutely. “Focus on what’s ahead of you. I hope someday this moment won’t taint your memories, and you’ll think of what we had together fondly.”
My mouth dropped open. “Fondly? Are you kidding me? At least have the decency not to treat me like I’m a goddamned stranger. And don’t insult me with such a blasé word for what we had. Fuck fond,” I spat, gripping the edge of the desk until my joints almost cracked.
He leaned back and crossed one leg so his ankle rested on his knee.
Casual. Indifferent. Done. “It’s over.”
“You already said that,” I shot back.
He sighed heavily, as if I were a nuisance and not the woman at the center of his world. If he’d wanted me to believe otherwise, he should have done a better job over the years of proving I wasn’t. Until this moment, I had never doubted his feelings for me. Even though verbal expression was rare, I knew he loved me. His actions up to this point had never wavered, always showing me that was true even if he couldn’t say it.
“This isn’t up for discussion.”
I was tempted to sink to the floor, make him physically remove me. My heart screamed at him to stop this nonsense. Daniel had decided our fate. I knew when he could be moved and when he couldn’t. His mind was made up. I wouldn’t get anywhere by continuing to go round and round with him.
"You'll give me a week to find somewhere else to go," I said. "I'm not taking the apartment. And you can withdraw whatever you've deposited."
"This isn't a negotiation."
I sniffed, still seething. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
"A car is waiting for you downstairs to take you to your new apartment." He folded his hands around his knee, and despite his I-don’t- give-a-fuck-anymore demeanor, his knuckles were white.
“One week. That’s not asking too much.” "There's no need to drag this out."
"We're not dragging anything out. You won't even know I'm here. I'm going to go through the stuff in the hallway and dig out what I came here with. The rest you can keep."
"Those things are yours. I bought them for you." He sounded offended—so help me God, if he was pulling that now…I was the one fucking offended.
"I don't want it. None of it means anything without you."
"Don't be absurd. You came here with nothing,” he said, affronted. "I'm leaving with a lot less than that."
I straightened, the anger that had fueled me evaporating. We stared at one another, those eyes that had consumed me now dull and empty. I couldn’t resist moving back in front him until my legs pressed into his. I touched his soft hair and closed my eyes, cursing all the times I’d taken for granted doing this very thing. When I opened them, I saw a wary expression on his face.
I brushed his forehead with my lips, heart split wide open. “I love you so much I’ve forgotten everything else. There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you, Daniel. Don’t forget that.”
And then I did the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I walked away.
Chapter 3
VIVIAN
* * *
Eight Years Earlier
* * *
“MOTHER, I’ve been here for five months. Can’t Daddy let it go?” Every time I got on the phone with my parents, I asked myself why I bothered calling. Climbing a jagged cliff with no safety rope would
have been easier.
“Vivian, he’s busy. Hasn’t even made it home yet.” The lie rolled off my mother’s tongue with such ease, I bet she even believed it was true. It was after six o’clock in Dallas. If my father wasn’t home by then, somebody needed to send out a search party.
“Tell him I called, okay? I gotta go.” I let out a long, frustrated sigh. I knew how they were. Why I thought they’d change, I didn’t know. “Love you.” It was too late. She’d already hung up.
I threaded a gold chandelier earring through my lobe, stuffing down disappointment. My father hadn’t spoken to me since I’d boarded the plane to New York what seemed like only a few minutes ago but in reality was months. I hadn’t conformed to his plan, and he knew how to hold a grudge like nobody’s business.
He’d told me to keep my ass in Dallas after college, that New York was too big and would swallow me whole. Said I had no business gallivanting around, and he didn’t want to hear it when I came home crying.
He’d cut me off, and I’d yet to thank him for that since he wouldn’t speak to me. With a little time and distance between us, the pain hadn’t really subsided.
It hurt that they’d basically shrugged when I’d proudly shared the news of my position at Hamerstein and Associates. The prestigious accounting firm was not only selective with their wealthy clientele, but also with their interns, the vetting process rigorous. Somehow I’d proven I was worthy. At the time, the salary had sounded like a Brink's truckload of money, though reality had quickly set me straight.
New York was expensive. I barely had enough money to eat, even though I’d paid a year’s worth of rent up front for the shithole in Alphabet City I fondly called home. While my parents thought I’d blown through the money they’d given me over the years on frivolous things, I’d been saving it all. The internship, the apartment…I’d done it on my own. That gave me a sense of pride I’d never had before. But it was the things money couldn’t buy that I craved.
I shoved one foot in a stiletto while I leaned on the sofa, my only piece of furniture. Lucky me, the day I moved in, a couple was putting the old thing out on the street. They’d even helped me carry it up the stairs to my apartment. The springs had sprung. When I moved, it squeaked. But it was better than nothing. I’d gotten kind of attached to the thing.
Once I had my other shoe on, I looked around the room, trying to remember what else I needed for the evening. “Purse,” I said to myself, scooping it up off the floor.
I took one more cursory look down at my dress to make sure nothing was out of place. It was a little black number. Three-quarter- length sleeves hung from the shoulders, the dress fitted to the knee, and the neckline plunged modestly. I’d purchased it before leaving Texas to wear to an awards banquet for one of the many golf tournaments my father and ex-boyfriend participated in every year. Translation: an excuse to drink.
Tonight was a fundraiser for Paths of Purpose, a group Hamer‐ stein and Associates was closely tied with. I’d been volunteering at the shelter for abused women and children in what little spare time I had, finding it fulfilling just knowing the people there. Their iron will to build a better life for themselves, to overcome the hardships they’d faced…If I’d been through what some of those women had, I wasn't sure there would be anything left of me.
I was excited when my supervisor sternly suggested the interns make an appearance tonight, and I hoped there would be lots of generous hearts in the room. I’d seen so much that could be done, heard from others who volunteered how far extra money could go. And though I wasn’t certified yet as an accountant, I’d offered to take a look at the books to see if there was anywhere we could stretch their dollars.
A man who was getting on up in years had done the accounting since the beginning, though when I met him, I’d gotten the distinct impression he was about ready to give it up, his failing health making even everyday tasks difficult. Because of the close link between the shelter and my firm, I’d been surprised to find out Hamerstein and Associates didn’t do the bookkeeping.
My stomach growled as I descended the worn wooden stairs of my apartment building, a stark reminder that I hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning when I’d snagged a couple of blueberry muffins after a meeting. Hamerstein’s habitual catering to their high-end clients provided the sustenance that was keeping me from starving. By the time my bills were paid, there wasn’t much left for food. I had no kitchen to speak of, so my options were limited, and I wasn’t much of a cook anyway. I had visions of a steak dinner and garlic mashed potatoes in my head, but God only knew when I’d be able to splurge like that. For tonight, heavy hors d'oeuvres would have to do.
THE SILENT AUCTION was in full swing when I arrived at the art deco ballroom in the Four Seasons Hotel. Though the decor was sophisticated and opulent, what really had my blood pumping was the number of people in attendance. I’d been to my fair share of country club functions, but this was a whole new level of wealth. Everyone looked expensive, and this wasn’t even black tie. As I perused the auction items, I was pleased to see a frenzy of bidding taking place.
After I’d circulated a bit and eaten enough to silence my grumbling stomach, I came to the end of the display of items up for bid. A donation table had been set up for those who wished to do more than participate in the auction. My purse burned me where it was nestled between my arm and body. The auction was out of my price range, but I wanted to help. I wanted to give. Hamerstein and Associates thought I had come to the event because they’d forced the issue, but nothing could have been further from the truth. I’d come in sole support of the charity that had sunk its hooks into my heart.
My salary was nothing compared to the checks being written by the other attendees, and I couldn’t spare a single cent. My MetroCard had a low balance, my power bill was due next week, and the heels of my stilettos were wearing down to nubs.
But in the moment, all of that was secondary. I’d figure out a way to make it. The women and children Paths of Purpose served needed the money more than I did. I approached the table, picked up an envelope, and emptied all the cash in my purse into it. I grinned as I lifted the flap of the envelope up to my lips, not an ounce of regret inside me. Payday was four days away. I could scrape by until then.
“May I seal that for you?”
I stilled. That voice penetrated straight to my core. Once I turned and got a look at the face that belonged to the voice, I clutched my bag a little tighter and leaned my thighs against the table in front of me for support. There were billboards all over the city of gorgeous men, and I honestly wondered more times than not if they were even real. This man beat them all by leaps and bounds. He was easily a head taller than me, with broad shoulders and a face that was impossible to look away from. He was both classically handsome and rugged, as if an angel and a warrior had mated, and this was their creation.
An untouchable aura surrounded him, yet it felt like he’d let me slip inside the invisible barrier. His piercing look put me off balance; I felt safe and anything but that at the same time. There was only one other person I’d ever seen with eyes like his. I saw them in the mirror every single day. My onyx eyes had the slightest flecks of aquamarine in them if they were in the right light, but his were black holes to get lost in. And I did for a moment, until I remembered he’d asked me a question, and I’d yet to answer.
“No,” I flatly refused. I had to be hard for self-preservation. This angel warrior was the type of man who would be too easy to make a fool of myself over.
I’d been so excited to unload the contents of my purse that I’d missed the fancy tape dispenser perched on the table in front of me. I wanted to roll my eyes at myself. No one at an event like this would lick their donation envelope to seal it. I held out my hand and arched my brow expectantly. “Pass the tape, please.” I spoke politely enough, but I didn’t smile. I was demanding.
His features lit in amusement. No man had ever affected me like this. I wanted to coax a full-blown smil
e out of him to see if I could do it, which irritated me.
I stepped around him gracefully and pulled off a strip of the clear tape. I sealed the envelope and gave it to the girl behind the table, then walked away as if neither she nor the most incredible-looking being I’d ever seen were there, shoving the image of that delectable mouth with its addictive half smile out of my mind.
FOR THE REST of the party, I managed to successfully avoid that man, though at odd times I’d feel this presence, as if someone was watching my every move. But when I’d look around, there was only a sea of party-goers. I was motivated to circulate. I needed to impress my boss and was determined to do so, staying until the very end of the event. I declined an offered ride home in one of the hired cars, something in my gut telling me it was inappropriate for an intern to accept. And then my gut got outside into the freezing October air, and I kicked myself. My MetroCard balance was too low to make it home and then to work the next day, and a taxi fare might as well have been a payment on a Rolls Royce.
I huddled in my sweater, tugging it tightly to me as a shield against the wind. It was useless. My internal thermostat was set to Texas swelter, so it felt like I might as well be in Antarctica. My mother had emailed me a picture from their outdoor patio only a few days before of her in a halter dress, her note complaining about the heat. I’d been surprised that she’d responded to my email at all, certain it was the gin constantly in her hand that had prompted it. Right about now, I’d take a shot of that heat—and a pair of tennis shoes or bedroom slippers or anything besides these damned high heels. It was a long walk back to my apartment, and in the morning, I’d just have to make the trek all over again.
I opted for the office. I could spend the night on the sofa in the breakroom, and I had a red cardigan to put on over my dress so I wouldn’t look like I was wearing the same outfit as the night before. It would be warm there, so I had a good chance of avoiding hypothermia.
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