by K. A. Linde
“Don’t!” I spat. I held my hand out. I was on fire. Anger flooding my veins, searing my body. “So Katherine was telling the truth. Wow. And I refused to believe her because I couldn’t think you all were petty and stupid enough to go through with something like this.” I laughed once. “Guess I was wrong about that. You are that stupid.”
“Natalie…”
I glared at him with the fire of a thousand suns. “Just so we’re clear, Penn didn’t lose. I’m right here. And I clearly cared for him enough to abandon my flight home and call a cab to tell him how I felt. Like an idiot.”
Penn’s face contorted in pain. But I had no sympathy for him. He’d done this to himself.
“So, there. Bet over. And you can all go fuck yourselves.”
I whirled on my feet and stormed back out of the library.
* * *
Penn raced out of the library behind me. I could hear his footsteps as he caught up with me. I was making a scene as I rushed through the house. I didn’t even care that people were staring at us. Or that the mayor had just appeared, looking aghast. I didn’t care about any of it. Just that I’d actually done this incredibly stupid thing. And it had all backfired in my face.
“Natalie!” he called as we stormed through the living room.
“Leave. Me. Alone!”
I shoved some socialite out of my way and yanked the door open. I tried to slam it in Penn’s face, but he grabbed the door and hurried out after me.
“Natalie, please, let me explain.”
He tugged on my arm to get me to stop. I turned around so fast and slapped him hard across the face. The sound rang out into the silence. His stunned look was enough for me.
I yanked my arm away from him. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”
“I deserved that.” His eyes were wide and pleading. Full of that devotion I’d enjoyed as a lie for two months.
I hated him in that moment. Hated him for that look. And how it made me weak in the knees.
“Yes, you did.”
“Please, let me explain.”
I glared at him. “Explain what exactly? That you played me? Again? A-fucking-gain, Penn?” I nearly shrieked at him. “That this is all a lie? Some fucking game to you. My life is not a game! I’m a human being. You don’t get to toy with me like a puppeteer, tugging on my strings.”
“I wasn’t. I swear. It wasn’t like that with you.”
“You entered a bet! You actually bet on whether or not you could fuck me and get me to fall for you. That is playing with people’s lives! My life. And what did I get out of it? A few weeks of sex and then a lost job, a lost place to stay, a lost life.”
“I did not expect any of that to happen.”
“You never expect it! Because nothing bad ever happens to you. And none of you give a fuck that you’re ruining other people’s lives! That girl Addie even tried to warn me,” I said with a shake of my head. Disgusted with myself. “And I was too dumb, too stuck up your ass to see it.”
“Natalie, I am so sorry for what happened. But I’m glad that we had those months. I didn’t know that we’d fall for each other. That we’d end up here.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” I shook my head in exasperation. Then I turned and started walking down the driveway.
“Natalie, stop.”
“No, you stop! Stop talking to me! I don’t want to hear anything else that comes out of that mouth of yours. You can’t make this right. In Paris, you lied and manipulated me. That is nothing compared to this. Fool me once.”
“It was all real. The bet was stupid. Just a pretense for me to get close to you. But how I feel, that’s real,” he tried to assure me.
“You didn’t need a pretense!” I screamed at him.
I stopped in place, looked up at the sky, the beautiful blue sky that was such a lie today when everything else fell apart. I couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t handle this anymore.
I turned to face him. Not with tears in my eyes, but anger. No heartbreak, just emptiness. This was the end. It was over. Penn Kensington had done everything he could to ruin what was left of the romantic in my soul.
My voice was calm when I finally spoke again, “You spew all this shit about ethics. But you can’t tell that betting on someone’s life is wrong? That this is wrong? You research and study and teach what is happiness, what is the good life, how to live an ethical existence. But you don’t live it.”
“Nat…”
“You’re not ethical, Penn. You’re a hypocrite. A fraud.” I swallowed back the pain welling in my chest. “You think you’re so above everyone else on the Upper East Side, but really, you’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Pretending to be one of the good guys when you’re no different than any of them.”
“I wish I could take it all back.”
“Wish upon a star.” I unclasped the bracelet at my wrist and threw it at his feet.
Then I turned and walked away.
“Natalie, please let me at least drive you.”
I kept walking. “I don’t need any of your help anymore. We’re through. Don’t try to contact me.”
I walked down the driveway that led to the road beyond and to the city beyond that. I walked and kept on walking. And I left Penn and the Upper East Side and all of New York and the in my rearview.
Epilogue
One Year Later
“Can you help me with this painting?” Amy asked.
I glanced up from my computer to see her struggling with some massive piece of artwork for her new show at the gallery. I hopped to my feet and helped her maneuver the thing into place.
“Shouldn’t you use your actual help to do this?”
“Hey, you’re here!”
“Yes, and I’m trying to work.”
“Psh, you don’t need to work!”
“Whatever, Amy. I still have to write another book. The publisher won’t be happy with just one.”
“I think you should just milk it for a while.”
I rolled my eyes at my best friend and went back to my computer where I stared at the blank page that was supposed to be my next book. Not that I’d been having any luck with writing anything.
My phone buzzed noisily and I glanced down at it. “Hey, Ames, it’s Caroline. I’m going to take this.”
“Okay!” she called from behind another painting.
“Hey, Caroline,” I said with a smile as I stepped out of the gallery and onto King Street in Charleston. Home sweet home.
“Natalie, darling. I’m glad I got ahold of you. How are you feeling?”
“Well, you know, fine. Jittery. Worried about the release next week.”
“Everything is going to be fine. I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said in her strong Northern accent. “I spoke to Gillian, and she said the preorder numbers are out of this world.”
As soon as I’d come home from New York, I’d gotten a call from Caroline. I had an offer in from Hartfield for my latest proposal. A big offer. And then another offer came in. And another. And then the book went to auction where all the publishers could bid on it. Thirteen publishers in total.
I’d actually fainted when Caroline came back with the final offer in the seven-figure range. Warren Publishing had won out, and I’d signed on the dotted line for my first book deal with Gillian editing.
It had been a dream and a nightmare.
Because of course, it had to be this book.
The one I’d written while living in that house with Penn for two months.
“So Warren wants to throw you a release party here, in New York. They’re inviting everyone who matters and early readers who adored the book. I have your ticket and hotel situation all lined up. The publisher said they’d handle everything. You’ll get a tour of Warren and a meeting with the higher-ups. I’m sure they’d love to hear what you’re working on next. Nothing official, just an elevator pitch.”
Caroline droned on about the party and my meeting with Warren, and I froze up
. A party. In New York.
“Caroline, is there any way that I can…skip New York?”
“Are you kidding? Of course you can’t skip. And they’ve already made the arrangements. It’s important.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
“You can bring your friend Amy, too. We can get her a ticket if it makes you feel better.”
“Yeah, that’d be great actually.”
“Then it’s set. I’ll see you next Tuesday in New York City as the world gets your debut novel, Bet On It.”
Caroline talked for a few more minutes before hanging up. But I was left with a sense of panic. New York. I was finally going back to the place that had broken and remade me. I probably had nothing to worry about.
New York was a big city.
Millions of people lived there.
What were the chances that I would run into anyone that I knew?
TO BE CONTINUED
* * *
Penn & Natalie return April 23rd in…
CRUEL FORTUNE.
Click to Preorder
Click for Release Alert
* * *
I finally have everything I ever wanted—fame and fortune and literary success. Only one problem: I lost my muse.
* * *
He was tall, dark, and handsome. Broody, enigmatic, alluring, and right for me in every way. Until he wasn’t. Until I lost everything.
* * *
And I can’t lose it all again. I’ll do anything to keep it.
* * *
Even seeing him again…
Click to Preorder
Turn the page to read how Penn & Natalie started in Paris.
* * *
Grab ONE CRUEL NIGHT for FREE!
One Click Now!
I spot the mysterious stranger across the party.
* * *
I’d seen him in the park, writing furiously in his worn leather notebook.
* * *
He’s pure confidence, born and bred in high society with eyes like a hawk—observant, cunning, and wicked. With sensual lips and a body made to worship, he’s exquisite. A work of art.
* * *
While I’m young, innocent, and completely out of my depth.
But I’m drawn to him. Captivated by his approach. When he asks for one night, I have only one word for him.
* * *
Yes.
* * *
One summer in Paris. One night with him. One cruel night.
One Click Now!
Chapter One
One Cruel Night
Rich, decadent, self-indulgent depravity.
That was my first thought when I surveyed the party I was currently crashing.
“What the hell am I doing here?” I asked barely above a whisper.
But my best friend still heard me.
“To loosen you up, Natalie,” Amy said. She nudged me forward into the room on the stiletto heels she’d all but forced onto my feet before we left her flat.
“In a dress this tight?” I gestured to the skintight black designer dress she’d pulled out of her outrageous closet for me.
Bohemian was a bit more on-brand for me, but I’d relented when I saw how eager she was. We’d been spending all summer in Paris and managed to stay out of trouble. I shouldn’t have even been surprised that she’d gone looking for it our last weekend. Trouble was Amy’s middle name.
“You look hot. Now, shut up and have a good time.” Amy pushed through the packed penthouse party and into the mayhem.
People danced to the music blasting in through unseen speakers. Bodies crushed together, hands touching, hips grinding. It was possible a couple was having sex in a darkened corner. Alcohol flowed like a fountain. Cocaine lay white as snow across a coffee table. For a split second, I saw the Eiffel Tower light up a window before we moved into another room.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” I asked, clutching on to Amy’s hand.
“The bar, obviously. Then, we’ll see if Enzo showed.”
I cringed. This was going to be an interesting night.
Amy found the bar with ease and ordered us both vodka tonics. She promptly downed hers and started in on number two before I even had more than a sip of mine. I was more interested in people-watching. It was a writer’s curse. Or that was what my dad always called it when I was able to recall useless information about strangers. I had a knack for details and never forgot a face.
That was how I found Enzo long before Amy. We’d met him a total of one time before he slipped Amy the address to this party and told her to crash if she dared. Amy could never resist a dare.
“Ma belle,” Enzo said in his thick French accent.
I admired him as he approached. His dark brown skin gleamed under the stark white shirt he’d left unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. His black hair coiled alluringly. He had delicate hands with paint still on his fingertips, as if he’d rushed over here while still working on some new masterpiece. I’d seen his work. I knew, one day, he’d be famous.
“Enzo,” Amy said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “We made it.”
He kissed Amy on both cheeks in greeting. “So you did. So you did.” His eyes cut to me. “Both you and your little friend.”
“Natalie,” Amy interjected. “She’s with me.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or another. His eyes were only on Amy. That was normal between the two of us. Amy stood out. I hid behind the page.
“Any trouble with the doorman?” Enzo asked.
He slung an arm around Amy’s shoulders and moved them toward another room. I sighed and followed. Typical.
“We’re here, aren’t we?”
Amy had paid the doorman to let us through. Not that she’d say that. Her parents were rich but not this rich.
Enzo seated us in an enormous space that I could only guess was a den. Enzo’s friends greeted us. While they were all handsome, they were all definitely Amy’s type. She loved artists. And her parents hated them. Win-win in her eyes.
But the line of vapid narcissists all seemed the same to me. I wasn’t sure I had a type. If I did, they weren’t any of these men. I willingly relinquished center stage to Amy and let my eyes drift out toward the exquisite balcony that wrapped around the full exterior of the room.
To the four sets of open French doors. And the white curtains ruffling in the faint breeze off the Seine. To the intricate crown molding that accented the soft blue walls. The dozen people outside laughing. All gorgeous, confident, and utterly carefree like Amy.
But my eyes were drawn to one man.
Gooseflesh broke out over my skin. I’d seen this mysterious man before. He must be staying at a flat near the one I’d been staying at all summer with Amy because I’d seen him in the park across the street on multiple occasions. He was always scribbling furiously in a notebook or gazing off unseeingly into the distance, as if a profound thought might hit him at any moment. He’d seemed intense…even from afar. Intense and charming.
Now, he was here.
“Amy,” I said, gently nudging her.
“Hmm?” Amy asked, prying her eyes away from Enzo for a minute.
“Do you recognize that man?”
Amy followed my line of sight and frowned. “Should I?”
“I’ve seen him before in the park by our flat.”
Amy pursed her lips. “Did you meet Enzo’s friend, Alexandre? He’s hot, charming, and here right now.”
I glanced over at Alexandre and smiled halfheartedly. I didn’t know what it was about this other man. Maybe I did have a type, and men who wrote furiously in notebooks was it.
“Yeah, but…do you think…”
“Natalie,” Amy said, “no way.”
“What? No way what?”
“Absolutely not.”
I widened my eyes in confusion. “Why are you freaking out?”
“I know that kind of guy. You should stay far, far away from the likes of him. He has bad news writ
ten all over him.”
I laughed at Amy. “You haven’t even met him.”
“I don’t have to meet him. I can just tell. Trust me. You do not want to get tangled up with that.” Amy spread her arms out. “Especially when you have a buffet of hot Parisian artists.”
My eyes roamed the gorgeous stranger. What about him would make Amy tell me to run for the hills? He exuded a confidence that had clearly been bred into him. He wore high society like a second skin in a tailored black suit. His dark hair shone in the chandelier lighting, and the candles flickered against his sun-kissed skin. He had eyes like a hawk—observant, cunning, and wicked. Lips that were sensual and inviting. A body made to worship. He was exquisite. A work of art.
Amy touched her finger to my chin and forced me to look back at her. “Don’t even think about it, Nat.”
But I was thinking about it.
I was definitely thinking about it.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I mused.
“Fine. It’s your funeral,” Amy said. “But just know that I warned you. I don’t want to have to say I told you so, but I will.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
Amy waved her hand at me, telling me to run off and play. Even though she thought it was a horrible idea, she’d let me make my own bad choices.
But I should have taken her advice. I should have known that Amy was only looking out for me. She wouldn’t have warned me off of this mysterious stranger for no reason.
When he finally saw me, everything screeched to a halt. Amy’s advice fluttered out of my mind like a quick summer breeze. His attention made me feel as if I were trapped in a spider’s web. I could struggle to escape, but it would be pointless. The end result would always be the same.
