by Nikki Sloane
I stared at him. I didn’t care about his job right now.
“My request got approved December third, but I had to stay at least another month until the new hire was trained.”
My hands balled into fists on my thighs. “That’s weird.” My voice was icy. “I don’t remember you mentioning any of this.”
This time I didn’t find embarrassed Dominic quite so adorable. “I never thought it’d get approved, and you’d been here a week.”
“So you got it approved. What the hell happened?”
He gave me a pained look. “You gave me more time, and I started to think I could tough it out. I was on the fence, but Chase was clear what they wanted. They offered me the commitment bonus if I agreed to fulfill my original contract.”
“I don’t understand.” My blood boiled in my veins. “How could . . .?”
He raked a hand through his hair, visibly upset. “I didn’t know what the fuck to do, all right? If I canceled my contract, I’d be going back to a job where I’d never get anywhere, and the year of hell I put up with would have been for nothing.” He began to pace the tiny living room and he looked like he was coming unhinged. “It’s so much better with you here, and you kept agreeing to stay—”
I launched to my feet. “I didn’t know there was this whole other option. You never said a goddamn word about it!”
He stopped and turned, and his expression was devastating. “I know. I kept putting it off because I didn’t know what to do, and then too much time had gone by and I had to make the decision.”
In the back of my mind a voice reminded me that I was the same, how I avoided until the last possible moment, but I was too angry to listen. “We could have gone home.” The words burned in my throat. “When? When did you decide?”
His face didn’t change and his expression was like a knife in my heart. “After New Year’s.”
Then, the knife twisted and the pain knocked the air clean from my lungs. He’d just lied to me. I couldn’t see it in his face. His pupils didn’t dilate, his eyes didn’t drift up while he accessed the part of his brain that created lies. His breathing didn’t change its cadence.
The only way I knew he was lying was from the date in the letter attached to the check. Three weeks ago he’d signed the re-commitment paperwork. He must have forgotten that was in there, but then again, he’d left the envelope out, forgotten, too.
“Don’t lie to me,” I snapped. “Fuck, I wish I’d never found it.”
“I’m sorry. Please, I knew it was a mistake to keep it from you, but I didn’t know how to fix it . . .” He approached me cautiously until he was only a foot away. “The idea of losing you? It scares the shit out of me. I’ll do whatever I can to keep that from happening.”
My heart thudded to a stop and died. My skin turned to stone. He’d lied to me, and I couldn’t tell. He’d been lying to me for at least a month and I’d been oblivious. Which meant – Oh, god.
“You’ll do anything. You’ll say anything to get me to stay with you, including . . .” Suddenly I was right back in Ian’s apartment, the blue velvet box in my hand. I wrapped a shaky hand around my suitcase, but Dominic’s arms stopped me.
“No. I love you. Real, Payton.”
I stared into his eyes. They looked the same as they always did, whether he was telling the truth or not.
“Why should I believe that? You’ve been lying to me since I got here.”
“I didn’t lie. Yeah, I left something out that I should have told you–”
“Still a lie in my book.”
His hands had trapped my waist, and they tightened at this accusation. His jaw clenched. “Yeah? You want to talk about not saying things you should? I’m in love with you. You got any kind of response to that?”
I took in a sharp breath. No way were those words coming from me right now.
“Every time you don’t answer, it’s a fucking lie, and we both know it.”
“This is about you,” I struggled free from his hold, “and how you made a massive decision without telling me. Maybe I’ve decided to go home, and you don’t get a say in that. How does that feel? You like it?”
Whoa, no. He definitely didn’t. His gaze turned hard and dark.
“And how exactly are you planning on getting home?”
Holy shit.
chapter
TWENTY-SIX
I’d never considered he wouldn’t let me leave, which had been stupid on my part. He’d just said he’d do anything to keep me here. But still, I was shocked he’d resort to a level that low.
“You owe me a plane ticket.” My voice came out uneven. I started to panic, feeling pinned down. Captive.
“I do, but we’ve got to talk about this.”
“You had two months to talk.” And he hadn’t. Maybe he never would have. “Were you even going to tell me?”
He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
Well, that was less than convincing. Once again I wrapped my hand around my suitcase handle. “I want my fucking ticket, now.”
“Payton, c’mon, I’m sorry. Can you stop with the suitcase?” He wrenched my hand off of it, and then wouldn’t release me. “You can’t just leave.”
“The hell I can’t.” I was breathing so hard, I started to get lightheaded. The hurt of it all was too great. I felt trapped, and his hand around mine made it worse. “Let go of me, go to your computer, and start looking at flight times.”
His shoulders rose and then fell, and the expression on his face turned unreadable. “No.” It came out normal, but I saw his Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed hard. Blue eyes examined my reaction, waiting anxiously for my response.
This was it. He’d pushed me before, but I couldn’t bend any further to him. This wasn’t bending, it was breaking. If I didn’t push back, I’d never be able to draw another line again. He knew I didn’t have the money or the credit limit on my credit cards to afford a ticket.
I yanked my hand free from his grasp and dug my phone out, doing the time change in my head. Christ, it was just after five in the morning there.
“What are you doing?” he asked, but I ignored him and dialed.
Logan answered on the third ring, sounding out of breath. He was a marathoner, so hopefully I’d caught him while he was on a training run. “Payton? What’s going on?”
“I need a really big favor,” I said, locking my gaze on Dominic. “I need you to sell my car.”
“What?” both men asked at the same time.
“Dominic won’t pay for me to come home.”
That was as far as I got before Dominic tore the phone out of my hand and put it to his ear. “Evie, wait a minute—”
Dominic’s eyes went wider when he realized whom I was talking to. The reality was that Evie had never bought or sold a car, and she knew shit about mine. If I asked her to do this, she’d go straight to Logan for help, so this saved time. Plus, Logan was more administrative than Evie anyway.
I stood silent as Dominic appeared to get an earful from Logan.
“She’s upset because I screwed up,” he said into the phone, “but she doesn’t need to—” He focused on me. “You don’t need to sell your car. If you really want to leave me that bad,” he pulled out his wallet and plunked it down on the table, “go ahead.”
I stared at the black square of leather while I heard Dominic mutter a goodbye and hang up. My phone was set with a thud beside his wallet. My bones hurt. My eyes felt like they had acid in them.
“I don’t want to go,” I said, “but I can’t stay here.” In less than a month I was going to have to leave Japan anyway.
“Payton, I can’t leave.”
I shrugged, but inside I felt like I was cracking. Breaking into a thousand jagged pieces. “You made that choice.”
“Don’t do this, please.” His voice was so desperate, it was terrifying. “I love you. I’m sorry. I love you so much . . . How can you just walk away from that?”
My eyes filled with more acid, a
nd it spilled over my eyelashes. Tears. He’d made me fucking cry—the first time since that deathly silent spring break my sophomore year. I swiped at my cheeks and reached for his wallet, but suddenly Dominic’s arms were around me. His lips slammed into mine. No. I turned my head away, breaking the kiss.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We belong together, and . . . I can prove it.”
Because I was pressed up against him, I could feel how fast his heart was banging in his chest. I put my hands on his shoulders to ease him away.
“Come for me,” he said, his voice hushed and unsure. “Right now.”
“What? No,” I gasped. What the fuck was this? That was the absolute last thing I wanted. But my body had a hard time fighting two months of training, and I was filled with horror when the first wave of pleasure began.
“No!” I gasped again, this time for myself but it was too late. It was happening whether I wanted it or not. I shut my eyes, determined not to look at him, willing my traitorous body to stop. Futile. The heat spread like fire through gasoline and I shuddered. Since I had limited control, I did the only thing I had left. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders, biting them into his flesh.
I heard him make a noise of discomfort while I came. My body bucked in his hold, and thankfully the damn thing went away as quick as it had arrived, but it left me reeling. My eyes flew open and I gave him the darkest, angriest look I had. The one that said, “Drop dead, motherfucker.”
“How could you?” I shoved him away and once the orgasm had completely left my body, it was replaced with fury. He’d used that command on me like a weapon, flexing his control. When I first arrived here, Dominic had said he was going to own me, and I’d never felt more owned than I did right now.
He’d made me a slave.
“This is over.” I snatched up my phone in a shaky hand. “I’m going to the airport. Text me with the flight details, and then delete my number from your phone.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry! Wait, please—”
Not a chance. I grabbed my suitcase and stormed out the door, slamming it shut. He had enough sense not to chase after me, which was good because I would have stopped him any way possible.
I sat at the bar in Tokyo airport’s first class lounge, staring at the three cubes of ice in my rum and Coke. I’d had two already, and my thoughts were fuzzy and distracted. He’d bought me a first-class ticket home. Was it supposed to be a gesture? Part of an apology? It didn’t make a statement if that was his plan. We were both aware how much money he’d come into recently.
That fucking check, with all its zeros and the months of lies that went with it.
“Excuse me, miss, do you speak English?”
I turned in my seat to face the male voice. Older, maybe mid-forties. Friendly eyes and a crooked nose, packaged in a suit. British, maybe?
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know how to speak anything else.”
“Ah.” His lips pulled back, revealing a matching crooked smile. “American.” He made a face. “I meant, you sound American. I didn’t mean to imply that Americans—”
I waved a hand. “I got it.” Then I blinked with annoyance when he sat beside me without an invitation. I wanted to be alone.
“Are you on the flight to Heathrow?” He had a pleasant expression on his face, but it wasn’t working for me.
I shook my head and took a big sip of my drink. “Chicago.”
The man glanced at the monitor behind the bar. “You’ve gotten here early.”
“I needed to get a head start on the liquid courage.”
“Nervous flier? Me, too.” He signaled the bartender. “I’m Simon.” He probably thought he was charming and seductive.
I sighed. “Okay, Simon. Can I be honest with you?” God, two months with Dominic had taken its toll. I sounded like him now.
Simon nodded and looked curious about what I was about to say.
“I’m going to save you the effort. If you’re hitting on me, it’s not going to work.”
The curious expression froze on his face. “Why not?”
“I’m not interested.” I finished my drink and pushed the glass away with my fingertips. “Not in anyone right now, and definitely not a married man.” My gaze dropped down to his hand on the bar, where the worn impression of a ring was obvious on his bare third finger.
His hand drew away as the pleasant smile faded to nothing. “I’m newly divorced.”
My gaze sharpened on his shifting eyes, and I gave a short, bitter laugh. “Okay, newly divorced, and a fucking liar. So not interested.”
Simon gave me a sour look and wandered away. I still had the ability to read liars . . . just not Dominic. I dug my phone out and stared at his text messages again. The flight information first, then:
That was it. No pleading, no more apologies, and there was terrible finality that made me sick. I’m sure he was pissed I’d walked out. Whether or not I walked away for good was up to him. I needed time and space. It just sucked how much space was about to be between us.
I did fine on takeoff, but thirteen hours is a long-ass time not to think about what had happened, and the Asian man sitting next to me looked mortified when I spent twenty minutes crying silently turned toward the window. I couldn’t help it. I was exhausted and Dominic had broken the wall I’d built around this part of my feelings.
The nice thing about first class was I drank myself to sleep, and the seats were pretty comfortable. It was six in the morning when I landed at O’Hare, and after customs and immigration, I was on the train toward my apartment in the thick of rush hour. It was loud, and dirty, more than I’d ever noticed before.
Dominic’s emotionless text was unnerving. I spent the remainder of the ride overanalyzing it. When I got home, I slept in my bed – my first time sleeping alone in more than two months – and I hated it.
My intercom buzzed and woke me at noon. It was Logan, which immediately made me suspicious. I’d texted Evie this morning and made arrangements to have dinner with them when they got off work.
“Did Dominic send you?” I asked into the call box.
“I came to return your car.”
Oh. I buzzed him up and pulled on a sweater and jeans.
It didn’t register that he hadn’t answered me about Dominic until I opened the door and was greeted with flowers.
“I’m sure you know who these are from,” Logan said, lingering in the hallway. “Can I come in?”
I motioned for him to do so, but gave him a guarded look. “What a cliché. He shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”
“He didn’t. I offered.”
Logan evaluated the room and sat the vase of red roses on my kitchen counter. They were beautiful, but I refused to show my appreciation. A first-class ticket hadn’t fazed me, so a dozen roses weren’t going to either.
“Dominic told me what happened.”
My neck got hot and I clenched my teeth. “Oh, did he?”
Logan’s face was serious. “All of it, and I mean, all of it. He knows how bad he screwed up.”
I didn’t know what to say. I picked up the flowers and moved them to the center of my kitchen table. “That conversation had to be awkward.”
“Payton, he’s a fucking mess.”
“Good,” I snapped. “Me, too.”
Logan’s face softened. “Look, I’ve been where he is. I kept secrets from Evie and it was the dumbest thing I ever did. I almost lost her.”
“I remember.” In fact, I’d been one of the people pushing her to forgive him.
He put his hands on his hips. “It was . . . really hard when she asked for space, but it helped her find a way to forgive me.” Logan’s stare bore down. “So I told Dominic to give you space. And I know it’s none of my business, but do you think you might be able to, with some time?”
“Forgive him?” There was the $100,000 question, wasn’t it? “I don’t know.”
Logan pressed his lips together and nodded. Then he pulled a set of keys from h
is pocket and set them on the counter. “I got your car up into the triple digits on the Stevenson.”
My jaw fell. “You better be fucking joking.” It was impossible to tell with him sometimes.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk and his joke helped ease some of the tension from my weary body.
He glanced at his phone. “I should probably head back to work. Evie said we’re meeting for dinner tonight?”
“Yeah.” I took the keys and put them in my purse. “Thanks for your help.”
“Hey, anytime you want me to drive your car, I’m available.”
I followed him to the door, and as he stepped through it, the words tumbled from my mouth. “I want to.”
He paused. “What?”
“I want to forgive him. I just don’t know if I can.”
He looked startled, but it shifted to a pleased smile. “It always seemed to me that you, Payton, can get whatever you want.”
On Thursday I met Joseph for lunch. He had something he wanted to discuss, but didn’t want to do it over the phone. Maybe he wanted to apologize in person, but it wasn’t necessary. I knew it wasn’t personal.
“Where do you want to eat?” he’d asked.
“Anywhere that’s not Asian.”
So we picked a Mexican place near my apartment where the décor was a bit over the top, but the food was great. When I came in, Joseph was already seated at a table, wearing a sweater over a tie and dress shirt. He always looked professional, but today he looked . . . odd. Academic.
His dark eyes went large as he evaluated me. “You look different.”
I sat at the table. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been out of town for a while, and the earliest appointment I could get at the salon is tomorrow.” My hair color needed some serious help. But Joseph continued to look at me, confused. It was kind of annoying. “What?”
“You look older. And, honey, I don’t mean it in a bad way.”
Now I was really annoyed. “It’s been two months, not two years.”
Joseph’s eyes warmed. “I’m sorry about how I handled that night. I didn’t want to lose you, and lost control myself.”
