“As compensation for the problems this person has caused, I am giving you the lease back.”
“I can’t afford the lease right now.”
“I hardly need the money,” Dominic said. “When you have recuperated your losses, you can pay when you are ready.”
There he went, being absurdly generous to her. Granted, his girlfriend had run like a tornado through her life. This time, maybe she deserved a little compensation. The goal had, after all, been to stay in Marbella. She’d always imagined she’d have to find a new location. Had maybe seen it as too embarrassing to be anywhere near Dominic.
Something in her still grated against the idea of accepting a gift. It felt perilous, although she knew that Dominic had never tried to hold that over her in any way. He truly had been the perfect gentleman.
Accepting this would be the easiest possible option. The salon could re-establish quickly, and everyone would know she was back in business without much marketing or fanfare. It would be stupid not to accept it. As much as it hurt her pride to accept help, she would. “Thank you. I will pay rent as soon as I have revenue coming in.”
“Good.”
There was awkward silence now, his generosity always made her feel out of her depths and in need to act graciously in return, but she had no idea what to say. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I can’t stay,” he said. “I just came to say you can take the lease back.”
Cheryl twisted her fingers around a kitchen towel. “I am very grateful, for this and everything you’ve done for me.”
He looked even more uncomfortable. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. “I’d better go,” he said, then he stopped. “There really is no rush with the rent. I am happy to take it when you have sufficient takings. Hopefully you can get your staff back.”
“I think so. I might lose one or two, but we’ll see.”
She walked behind him to the door and then didn’t know what to do. They didn’t have the kind of relationship where they kissed. Well, they had at one point, where he’d kissed her properly, a promise that had never eventuated. To kissing him now, even if only on the cheek, just felt too awkward, so instead she just smiled. Best not to go there again, because she didn’t need a reminder of how he smelled and tasted. It had been hard enough to forget as it was. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
He nodded brusquely and left.
Chapter 55
To Esme’s surprise, Inns appeared in class one day. As he hadn’t told her he was back, he must have arrived late last night.
“How was the UK?” she asked when class ended.
“Fine,” he said. Not exactly verbose in his answer, but then he never was the most chatty person.
“There has been quite a bit of drama since you left. I’ve found out there’s this massive love triangle between my dad and these two women,” Esme said with amusement. “And it all blew up, apparently. Ended with tears.”
Inns looked uninterested as they walked out of the classroom. As he was one who always seemed to have a judgemental comment on other people’s misfortune, it was odd that he was completely silent now. He must still be tired from the travel. It wasn’t far from the UK, technically, but travel always took it out of you.
“Do you want to go for a coffee?”
“No, look, there is something I’ve got to do. I’ll see you later.” He walked away without so much as a look in her direction. Well, that was cold. What the hell had gotten up his arse?
With a sense of astonishment, Esme walked to her car. Inns was severely socially stunted, but the depths of it kept on astounding her. He was treating her just like he did when they’d first started going to class. It only reminded her how far off he was from boyfriend material. Where was the kiss, let alone a gift? None of that was forthcoming from Inns.
Getting in her car, she drove away. He would just have to take a few moments to get over his mood. He was, after all, the moodiest guy she had ever met. But unexpectedly, he didn’t show up at her house that afternoon, and he didn’t call in the evening either. By this time, Esme was getting thoroughly pissed off with him.
Unable to resist, she called Aggie, who told him that Inns had been barraged in his room all day.
The next morning, she stood by the doors to the classroom, with her arms crossed and a tight expression of disapproval on her mouth. Inns approached by his typical route, his backpack on his shoulders. He had that, ‘I’m in for it expression’ on his face.
“Had enough of being rude yet?” she asked when he was in hearing distance.
“I just have things to do,” he said, almost with a hint of exasperation.
Hey, she wasn’t in the wrong here. It wasn’t like she had been clingy or unreasonable. Spending a moment with your girlfriend wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. A phone call at the very least. “Too busy for basic manners?”
If there was one thing that truly annoyed her about Inns, it was that he refused to apologise—about anything, no matter how atrociously he behaved. Maybe it was time for her to give him a bout of cold shoulder to let him know that he needed to adjust his attitude.
He walked ahead of her into the classroom and Esme chose to sit in the row ahead of him as opposed to next to him. If he was going to be a dick, he could be friendless. Not that it seemed to bother him so much. At times, it seemed he went out of his way to push people away.
At the end of class, he wasn’t much more forthcoming either. Well, it wasn’t like Esme was in the mood to hang out with him either. He was being an arsehole. She left the classroom the moment they were dismissed without saying a word to him, driving home with anger and disappointment buzzing through her veins.
She was supposed to be the one person he didn’t turn on, but apparently, he hadn’t gotten that memo. He was treating her with disdain, the same way he did everyone else, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt. It felt like she had taken all this time and effort to tame this wild beast and he just turned on her.
At home, she sat with a cup of tea, too angry to do anything productive. This was why relationships sucked. She ended up angry and it overtook her completely, leaving her unable to do anything but sit and stew. Emotions sucked. And he had done this, casually and probably entirely without thought.
No, this was enough. She was going to deal with him in the way he feared the most—direct confrontation. Grabbing her car keys, she drove over to Aggie’s house. Aggie’s mum answered and Aggie was out, which was probably for the best. Esme smiled politely at Cassandra Fellworth, who told her, unsurprisingly, that Inns was in his room.
Esme only afforded him one knock before she barged in. He was sitting at his desk, reading something on the computer. “Hey,” she said a little aggressively.
“What are you doing here?”
“Enquiring why you’ve been treating me like a total arsehole?” She crossed her arms.
“I told you, I have things to do.”
“So do I, but somehow I manage to retain my friends in the process.”
“Look, it’s not a good time.” He went to rise, but Esme pushed him back into the chair. Really, who did he think he was dealing with? She wasn’t some ‘under the radar’ toy and he had another thing coming if he thought he could treat her like one. She’d fucking rip him apart.
For a moment, he stared at her. “My meeting in the UK was with a member of the admission board for New College, so excuse me if I’m busy, but the rest of my life is contingent on this application.”
“You’re leaving?” This had not been at all what Esme had expected him to say.
“Of course, I’m leaving. I was only ever going to stay here for a period of restitution. Now I’m going back.”
“I thought they wouldn’t have you.”
“It seems I am ready to be forgiven,” he said nonchalantly.
“You’re not even going to finish out the year?”
“Not unless I have to.”
It was hard not
to take his evident contempt personally.
“So, please, Esme, can you give me some time to do this. I can’t afford any distractions right now.”
Distraction. Is that what she was? Didn’t he get that he was just making all this infinitely worse? There were ways of dealing with people and he obviously didn’t have those skills. “Seriously, Inns, you can get things done without running over the people around you.”
His attention turned back to his computer.
“Arsehole.”
Esme stormed out of his room and down the stairs. She half expected him to come rushing after her. Didn’t he realise how serious this was? There would be no more sex if this was how he behaved, but he didn’t come running. He didn’t care. Not one whit. It was all about this application, his means back to the UK, from where they had dragged him out of kicking and screaming not so long ago.
Their entire thing—friendship, whatever—meant nothing to him. It was all about this application and he was fine with cutting loose everything else. It wasn’t even as if he’d been approved yet, and still just the whiff of being able to return, and he dumped her like yesterday’s news. Embarrassment and hurt coursed through her. She’d given him a chance when no one else had, and he felt no loyalty in return.
For some reason, she’d fooled herself into thinking it had been his circumstances and experiences that had made him so harsh and antisocial. She had seen something different when it was just the two of them, but this thing now was a reflection of his character, and it said he used people when he had a reason to and got rid of them when they’d served their purpose.
Nausea bit into her gut as she hopped in her car and sped away.
Chapter 56
Heels clicked on the cool marble of Cheyenne’s new house. Without Roan, finding a proper place wasn’t hard. There weren’t the security issues that he always had to contend with. With their telescopic lenses, paparazzi were a menace from kilometres away. That wasn’t a problem for her and she had found the perfect house, high up on a hill top, perched up in the sky.
Her bid had made the closing easy and quick. She hadn’t wanted to squabble. This was her house and that was that.
It had absolutely no furniture yet, and no staff, but that wouldn’t be hard to organise.
Walking out on the extended balcony, she looked down the mountainside to the ocean below. Deep blues and dark greens as far as the eye could see. There were a few houses dotted along the mountainside further along. She wasn’t out in the isolated ranges, but she wasn’t in the thick of Marbella either.
The infinity pool glittered and large potted palms surrounded the edges. She didn’t like them. They had to find somewhere else to be, but she would sort that later. Cheyenne liked clean lines and order. It wasn’t perhaps a state she was good at creating exclusively on her own, but she always had people for that.
This was it, her home, the one she had been working for. It wasn’t leased or rented; it didn’t belong to some man and she wasn’t going to be chased out of town. She ruled this town now, her position being cemented with her friendship with Samara. Samara was loyal with her friends, too, and Cheyenne was surprisingly appreciative of the friendship.
No man was ever going to tell her what to do again, going to treat her like she was nothing—expendable on their whims. God, she hated men—pathetic, snivelling cockroaches who thought money made them entitled and better. They didn’t realise how pathetic they would be without that money. They wouldn’t have been able to achieve what she had. Most of them wouldn’t have a clue how to get by in the world if their money was taken away. Not all, obviously.
She stretched up her thin arms like a cat and simply savoured her victory. This was all hers. It was all hers and she was going to have a good time. Actually, now that she thought of it, she had a common problem with Roan: what to do once success had been achieved. Like him, she had worked relentlessly and it was hard to switch off that instinct. What should she do now that she had everything?
The crazy pursuit for more wasn’t something that afflicted her. Alexi had been that way, it was all about accumulating more. It wasn’t the having, it was the winning. Winning was addictive, but that had never been her. She had enough money to do what she wanted, to be in a position she wanted to be in. The social standing was hers, and she wasn’t going to lose that anytime soon.
All those bitches and she won in the end. That knowledge warmed the cockles of her heart, and probably would for quite a while. But now what?
The one thing that Samara had that she didn’t, beside a seventy-foot yacht—which was realistically just a money pit and a man’s means of comparing cocks—was a husband. Cheyenne didn’t need a husband. There was nothing she needed a man for, and really, they were more trouble than they were worth.
But Samara always had that fondness in her eyes when she talked about her husband. For Cheyenne, she had only gotten as far as tolerating. Well, Roan she hadn’t strictly minded so much, but it had always been with a proviso that he served his purpose, which he had done admirably. She’d never had that thing she saw in Samara’s eyes.
Would everything have been different if Cheyenne had ever fallen in love? As much as she disparaged it, and despite telling herself it didn’t exist, she knew it did. Maybe she had even fallen a little bit in love with Alexi. No, she wouldn’t have been attracted by Jesus’ bedroom eyes if that were true. It had never been love with Alexi. She had been the girlfriend component in his life and he’d had the power in everything, even when and where they had sex. Their whole relationship had been dictated by him. That wasn’t love. And neither was some toy-boy who had to do everything she wanted them to. Power was sexy as hell, but it wasn’t love.
Obviously, she could spend the next decade bossing around young hot dudes, and maybe she would, but it wasn’t that elusive thing either.
What was the point of this morose thinking? She had furniture to get. A trip to Milan with an interior decorator would be fun. Spending money was fun. It wasn’t something she did for no reason, but it was time to shop. Some run-of-the-mill designer wouldn’t do; she wanted the best in the world. Not some minimalist bullshit either; she wanted luxury and comfort—refusing to compromise on either. What good was a designer if they couldn’t achieve that? If you learned anything as a model, it was that appearance wasn’t everything. Appearance was cheap. True quality had more than that.
Builders would also have to be called. One of the adjoining bedrooms was going to be turned into a substantial walk-in closet. A little one wasn’t going to cut it. She wanted an awe-inspiring one. That was one of the things the people in LA did well. This was going to be her home, so it would be tailored to her needs exclusively.
“Hello?” Samara called from the door in her lushly accented voice. “Anyone home?”
“Come in,” Cheyenne called, turning to see Samara in an off the shoulders pantsuit. She looked gorgeous with her dark features as she looked around, large sunglasses obscuring her face.
“There is much to do here,” she said.
“I know,” Cheyenne said. “Up for a bit of shopping in Milan later this week? I’m not giving the designer complete carte blanche.” She was going to get something fabulous, something that represented what she wanted and the designer would have to build around it. That was the easiest way of dealing with designers—otherwise their own ambitions ran away with them. Cheyenne didn’t want ground breaking design. This was her home; it would reflect her.
“I am always up for shopping in Milan. We can take my plane.”
Chapter 57
The next time Dominic saw Cheryl was at the Yvgrenen party, a wealthy Norwegian couple who had been part of Marbella society for a while. He didn’t want to go, but he felt he had to see if Bianca had left town with a parting shot at Cheryl. Judging by past experience, he wouldn’t put it past her. Bianca didn’t go down gracefully.
If fact, he wasn’t entirely sure she had left town. Her staying would be awkward, but women alw
ays were awkward when things didn’t work out.
He regretted coming as soon as he arrived, seeing Cheryl with that actor again. They looked so comfortable together, chatting in their own little bubble. In a sense, he understood why the man was attracted to Cheryl, and being American, her shortcomings in this society weren’t important.
Cheryl would never be the easy wife, one left to perform her duties and relied upon implicitly. She didn’t know the rules of this society—she wasn’t part of this society. The indelible truth was that she was part of the service sector which supported the society. At no point had she tempered herself, conformed to the fashion, attitude and norms of the ladies around here. Cheryl did it her way, and it didn’t strictly fit.
Roan Hancock didn’t make the distinction.
“It’s wonderful to see you here tonight,” a soft voice said to his left. The soft accent sounded vaguely familiar.
“Cheyenne,” he said, grudgingly turning his attention away from Cheryl. Part of him felt he needed to keep watch so the buff American didn’t run off with her. Also, Cheyenne needed to be watched. Here was another woman who could be a destructive force to the unwitting.
“Not quite as happy to see my ex here, but what can one do? Murder isn’t legal. Who is that woman?” The expression on Cheyenne’s face was disapproving. That was often the look Cheryl got from these women. It was fine in the salon, but when Cheryl ventured into their society, the women objected. Of course, Cheyenne would be one of them.
“Cheryl Waters,” he said.
“The woman all the rumours were about? So that’s her.”
“They’re not true. A construct.”
“Rumours always are. Funny Roan should head straight there. Well, perhaps not. He’s looking for a homebody, a wife. Don’t think he quite knows it yet. Like a typical man, he’s having a complete crisis simply for the fact that he’s ready to settle down.”
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