It falls to my feet.
Nick's eyes go wide. I'm not wearing particularly sexy lingerie today, but he stares at me like I'm in some fantastically expensive silk lace bra and panty set.
He wants me. It's written all over his face.
But he doesn't move.
I go to unhook my bra. He grabs my arms and pulls them over my head.
"Stop it." He squeezes my wrists. "It's not the time."
"You're hurting. You can use me to feel better."
"I'm not doing that again."
"Why? I liked it. A lot. We'll both feel better." And he'll be here, mine, even if only for fifteen minutes.
"I'm not abusing our relationship like that."
"It's not abuse. I want you to do it." I stare into his eyes. "Please. I want to make you feel better. It makes me feel good."
He releases my arms. "Put your dress back on."
His look is serious. He's not going to budge, and with his history, I know better than to push him.
I slide back into my dress. "This sale is killing you."
He says nothing.
"What if I could help?"
"No."
"Hypothetically."
"The only thing keeping me sane is knowing you're okay." He shakes his head. "Promise you won't get involved."
I bite my lip. "I need you, and you're slipping away."
His eyes go to the window. "Promise."
"Tell me how to get you back and I'll promise."
"Lizzy, no." He raises his voice. "I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you. Promise."
He's practically screaming. I'm sure someone heard.
I stare into those deep brown eyes. All I see is pain. "I have to help."
"You want to help?"
"Yes."
"Then go home."
"What?"
"Go home and don't come back in for the rest of the week. Take a break. Take your sister to a spa. Take a flight to Paris. I'll pay. I don't want you to see me like this."
"But this is what people who care about each other do. They see each other when they're hurting, help each other when they're hurting."
His eyes cloud with frustration. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then trust that I need you to leave. I need to know you're okay somewhere else." He reaches for my hand and runs his fingertips over my palm.
The simple touch sends warmth through my body. I move closer. Wrap my arms around his waist.
He brings his fingers to my chin, tilting me so we're eye to eye. "I'll take you out Saturday night. Until then, be somewhere else. Anywhere as long as you're enjoying yourself." He brushes his thumb against my lower lip. "I'll have a credit card sent to your apartment."
"I can't take your money."
"Then don't. But I want you to have the card."
There's so much need in his eyes. I nod.
He leans down to kiss me. He's here. I can feel all of his attention, all of his affection. I melt into his arms.
I need him like this.
I need him more than I realized.
He pulls back and returns to his desk. Already, he's slipping away. Warmth flees my body. I'm cold. Empty.
It's like my insides are torn out.
I want to honor his wishes, but I can't survive losing him like this.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Between midterms and the last bits of wedding planning, Kat has no time for a spa day much less a spa week. I'm not feeling very international. I ignore Nick's credit card and use some of the cash I made in the poker bet to take the train to D.C.
The difference in climate means the cherry blossoms bloom a little earlier here. Most are still white but a few stray trees are a beautiful shade of pink.
I've never been one for history or civics. Touring monuments and museums makes little impression. I take the train home on Friday morning and spend the day watching my favorite sci-fi films.
Nick's impulse was right. It's much harder to survive this in my apartment with my thoughts surrounding me.
I call Sarah.
"Hey, sweet thang," she answers.
"Can we go out tonight?"
"I'm off in two hours. We'll eat, we'll dance, we'll find a nice guy to get your mind off things."
"No guy."
"Things serious with the hot boss?"
"You could say that."
"You little slut! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Maybe I didn't want to get called a slut."
"It's a compliment. You want me to act like Kat." She adopts a prim and proper voice. "Oh my goodness, Elizabeth, you need to be careful. Are you using contraceptives? Are you sure this man is really marriage material?"
"Don't make fun of Kat. She's sweet. And she gets laid more than you do."
"Does not."
"You should see her with Blake. He worships the ground she walks on." I go to my closet and try to pick out my cutest dress. "You know what, this line of conversation is disgusting. I'm totally done."
"You're not going to abandon me for an engagement, are you?"
"Never." I pick a purple mini dress and find gray tights to compliment it. "Meet you at Pixie Dust?"
"See you then."
The phone clicks off.
I check the saved text message just to make sure it's still there.
Tonight, 10PM. The restaurant is a good ways from any club Sarah frequents. I'll have to leave by nine if I want to take the subway. Nine-thirty if I'm willing to take a cab.
I play with my phone, contemplating the merits of calling Shepard and demanding an explanation now. Of calling Nick and begging him to share his feelings with me. The former is too aggressive, the latter too desperate.
He wants me to stay out of this.
I have to try.
***
Dinner is pizza on the way to the club—a loud, throbbing dive where the bouncers don't check ID.
I down a double shot rum and diet and follow Sarah onto the dance floor. There's no mood lighting here. It's dark and dim and sweaty.
For half an hour, I dance with her. We've done this a million times and we fall into a seamless rhythm. It's easy and fun, but it attracts the attention of too many guys. One pair moves in to dance with us. Sarah looks at me as if to ask if it's okay. I nod yeah. It can't be that bad. And it's dancing. Nothing in my relationship with Nick precludes dancing with a stranger.
The guy slides his hands around my waist. They drift to my lower back. I grab them and put them back in place. The song passes, my hips swaying a foot away from his. He pouts over the distance, but his hands stay put.
The next song is faster. The guy isn't so bad really. Decent height, nice button up shirt and designer jeans, pretty blue eyes and messy blond hair. Not my type, but anyone can see he's attractive.
My body is magnetically repulsed. I don't want anyone touching me besides Nick ever again.
Fuck it. I nod a goodbye and break to the bar. After two more rum and diets, my head is fuzzy and the room is spinning.
Sarah plops on the seat next to me. "Babe, what's wrong? Talk to me."
I scan the room. We're not in the nicest club in the world, but I should be having fun. Most nights, I'd kill to be dancing with my friend with no trouble from the bouncers. I look cute. I have a drink. My back feels fine.
But I'm still heavy all over. Cold all over. It still feels like my insides are ripped out, like nothing will ever be okay.
I close my eyes, willing myself to shake it off. All I see is Nick. The frustration in his eyes. The slumping of his shoulders. Even over the music, I hear his voice in my head. It's angry and defenseless.
I can help him.
How can I do anything besides help him?
"Lizzy!" Sarah hits me in a half playful half wake the fuck up gesture. "You okay? Did you leave your drink unattended?"
"No. It's nothing like that."
"Don't tell me you're thinking about the hot boss."
I nod.
>
"But the blond was panty melting hot."
"You know it's possible to feel something for a man besides desire to fuck."
"Possible, but not for you." She looks me in the eyes. "Right?"
God, the room is spinning. I kick back the last sip of my drink. It's not enough. I plop an ice cube in my mouth and suck hard.
Sarah snaps her fingers. "Answer me or I'm assessing you too drunk to stay out."
"I'm thinking." I'm dizzy, but I know it's not from the drinks.
"Oh fuck." She covers her mouth. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
A dive bar after three drinks is not the most romantic place for a conversation like this. I've been avoiding the question, even in my head.
I know the answer.
I love Nick.
I'm madly in love with him.
So madly in love with him I can't bear to see him hurting.
I nod a yes. "I am."
"Fuck. Love sucks. It makes you its bitch."
That sounds right.
"Lizzy."
My eyes go to the clock. It's a little after nine. There's still time to get to the hotel.
"Lizzy!!!"
"What?"
"Do you love this guy, like crazy, can't breathe in love with him?"
"I have to go."
"No fucking way, girlie. You're drunk and miserable. You're not leaving my sight."
"What if I swear to go straight home?"
Sarah cocks an eyebrow. "I won't believe you."
I go for another ice cube. Sarah takes my drink away.
She leans in close. "Love can be nice... if he's worth all the pain. Can you see yourself with him for a long time?"
My heartbeat picks up. Yes. I see us in that gorgeous apartment of his in ten years, rings around our fingers. The rest of it is fuzzy. I've never thought about my future beyond a career, but I know I want Nick in it.
I want him happy.
I push off my seat, tugging at my purse to find my phone. "I have to call him. I have to ask him something."
Sarah's expression gets serious. "If you're not back in five minutes, I'm calling the cops."
"Okay." I march to the back door, to the alley reserved for smokers.
Outside, there are two people humping against the wall. I turn my back to them so as not to ruin their desperate fun.
My hands are shaky, more from the drinks than from my racing nerves. I dial Nick and hold the phone to my ear.
Five rings and I get voicemail.
I call again. Voicemail.
Okay. Third time's a charm.
Ring. Ring. Ring—
"Lizzy, what's wrong?" His voice is equal parts concerned and tired.
"I have to ask you something."
"Are you drunk?"
"Yes, but that's not important." I dig my fingers into the back of the phone. "You told me once... about your company. That if you lost it, it would be like losing a limb. Do you still feel like that?"
"Where are you? I'll pick you up."
"Just answer the question. Yes or no. You've been miserable all week. You're like a different person. You're not here."
"Yes." He pauses. "Baby, tell me where you are. I'll come get you."
The softness is his voice is almost impossible to resist. Almost but not quite. "No. I'm with my friend. I'll be fine."
But he won't. Not if he loses the company. I take a deep breath, looking around the alley in an attempt to sober up. I can make out the tile walls of the building opposite me. The sighs of the couple next to me. They are not at all bothered by my presence.
I exhale into the receiver. "Nick, do you trust me?"
"Lizzy..."
"Do you?"
"Of course."
"That's all I need to know. I'll see you soon." I hang up the phone before he can object.
I look up directions to the hotel. The subway is a mess. There's no time. I have to take a cab.
Fuck.
I hightail it to the street and throw my arm into the air. How the hell do people hail these things?
Somehow, a cab stops in front of me. I take a deep breath as I slide inside.
The cabbie takes the address and the car pulls onto the street.
I close my eyes. I can do this. For Nick, I can do this.
Once I'm calm enough to breath evenly, I send a text to Sarah.
Lizzy: Sorry, but I have to take care of something. Take the blond and his friend home. I bet they'll be into a threesome. I promise I'll call if I need you.
Sarah: I'm going to rat on you to your big sister.
Lizzy: No, you're not.
Sarah: Fuck you. I might. Call me when you get home.
Lizzy: Use a condom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
My phone buzzes frantically the entire ride to the restaurant. Pressing "ignore" and counting the seconds until the next call is enough to keep my attention off the possibility of a crash.
When the cab arrives, I pay and turn off my phone.
At ten on a Friday night, the restaurant is crowded. New Yorkers love eating late. Still, I spot Shepard in a booth in the back of the room. His bright blue tie draws my attention to his eyes. He looks so much like Nick.
He's just as handsome, just as strong and in control.
It's not smart being here drunk, but it's better than leaving Nick to disappear into his pain.
I walk through the restaurant. Shepard rises and shakes my hand.
"Thanks for coming. Do you prefer Miss Wilder or Lizzy?" He motions for me to sit.
I do. "Lizzy."
"Can I get you a drink or something to eat?"
"No thank you. I'm not in the mood."
Shepard slides back into his seat. He's nursing a soda in a large class. No alcohol, most likely. He must hate it that Nick forced him into rehab. More that it worked.
There's no malice in his expression. No sign he's after hurting Nick. No clue as to what he's after, actually.
"I'm not sure why you want to meet with me." I cross my legs. "What could I possibly have to do with you selling Nick's company?"
"It's our company. We grew it together." Shepard shifts like he's fighting a frown. "You must care about him to meet me here."
"Yes."
"Do you love him?"
My cheeks flush. It's like it's national Ask Lizzy if She's in Love Day.
I look back to Shepard. "Yes, I do."
He frowns with sympathy. "This isn't personal. I'm not trying to hurt you."
I don't like the sound of that.
"I'd like you break up with Nick."
My stomach twists. "Are you trying to hurt him?"
"That isn't my priority."
"Is it about money?"
He stares back at me, totally unreadable. "If there's something you want more than me backing off the sale—money, another job, information you can use for leverage—"
"No. I want you to back off the sale. Nick is miserable over this. I..." I don't want to share my feelings with someone who is so blasé with other people's, but I can't have everything on my chest. "I can't lose him to this."
"Then leave him."
I can't lose him like that either. My body goes cold. "At least tell me what it is you get out of my leaving Nick."
"Look at it this way. If he loves you, he'll fight to get you back. You'll make up and be happy."
"And you'll get...?"
"What I want."
"Which is?"
His expression hardens. "I hope that Nick really does love you. That he fights for you and you end up happy together."
"Why is it I don't believe you have noble intentions?"
"I don't."
"I believe him when he tells me he never touched Jasmine. And he doesn't look at her like he's ever wanted her."
Shepard's expression fills with frustration. "I'm sure you're a lovely person, but we're not friends, and I'm not interested in sharing my feelings with you. This is a business arrangement."
&
nbsp; "Fine. What are the terms?"
"Break up with Nick. You have until the end of the weekend. If you do, I'll step off the sale on Monday."
"What if he fights me?"
"Fight back."
"What about him fighting for me?"
"Make him work for it. Give it two weeks. If he's still fighting, do what you want. I'll honor my promise not to sell."
I bite my lip. There's so much determination on Shepard's face. I'm sure he has a plan, but what the fuck is it?
"How do I know I can trust you?" I ask.
"You don't have another option."
He's right. I'm stuck. And I'm a pawn. I hate everything about it.
"If I don't hear from you by start of the day on Monday, I'll assume you decided not to do it, and I'll sell."
"Doesn't the money you could make mean something to you?" I ask.
"I have plenty of money."
"Then why?"
"You have my number." He slides out of his seat and offers his hand to shake. "It's your decision."
I shake his hand with a weak grip.
"You shouldn't frown so much. You'll get wrinkles."
"Thanks for the tip."
The world goes cold as I watch him leave. It's my decision. Either I leave Nick, or he loses his company.
It takes ten minutes for me to regain my breath. I can't stomach another cab ride. I take the subway to Kat and Blake's place.
When the doorman assures me that they aren't home, and thus aren't fucking on the couch, I let myself in.
Sure enough, the penthouse is empty. That beautiful blue New York light streams through the windows. Even that is ugly.
I'm numb all over. My thoughts are in messy squiggles, so far from the straight lines I need to figure out what to do.
A hot bath does nothing to wake my senses. I wipe off my makeup and climb into the empty spare room.
There are pajamas somewhere, but I can't bother. I pull the blanket over my head and press my eyelids together.
There's no way out.
No matter what I do, I lose Nick.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It's too bright in here. It should be illegal for fluorescent lights to be so bright.
My head is pounding. From the hangover or the misery, I'm not sure. There's a knock on the bedroom door. It's followed by a soft voice.
"Hey, Lizzy. You up?" Kat asks.
"I am now." I throw the comforter over my head, inspecting my cocktail dress.
The Billionaire's Need: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire's Deal Series Book 3) Page 20
