by Lee, Nadia
Or it could just be a coincidence. Just because one happens after another doesn’t mean there’s cause and effect. God, that’s one of the first things you learn when you’re doing analysis.
I shut down my laptop and shove it into my bag. Then, very deliberately, I stand and take a deep breath. I’m just going to ask Court. Not accusingly; I’ll just bring it up. And whatever explanation he gives—no matter what my head says—I’ll accept. Because that’s what I owe him for being on my side.
Chapter Forty-Six
Pascal
The drive home sucks. Damn traffic. Pascal’s Twentieth-First Century Law: The more urgency there is, the worse the traffic.
On the other hand, maybe the extra time is good. It gives me a space to calm down, gather my thoughts and come up with a few good ways to approach the topic. I don’t want to sound accusing and ruin what Court and I have between us. But how do I bring it up? Just ask point-blank? Maybe mention if he wants to have money there? Gently pry about how he’s managing his fortune?
But what if that makes it sound like I’m overly interested in his bank balance? Ugh. That’s so not what this is about.
When I finally walk through the door, I’m almost an hour late. Court looks up from his phone. “I was about to text you,” he says with a smile, then gives me a kiss. “I was wondering if Gavin was making you work overtime.”
“No, he hasn’t asked me to do that yet.” I clear my throat, relieved he’s brought Gavin up first. That way it isn’t too weird when I ask him about his relationship with OWM. Right?
Court starts to lead me toward the couch, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. I don’t think I can do this seated. There’s too much restlessness inside me. “But if he is doing that, it’s to make you more money,” I say, watching him so closely that I can almost see individual pores on his face.
“Eh.” Shrugging, he rubs the tip of his nose. “He doesn’t have to make you work that hard.”
Dread unfurls. Why isn’t he meeting my eyes? “Why? Did he make you plenty already?” I say, keeping my tone teasing with effort. A huge lid is over the loud words welling in my chest. I promised myself I would trust him—believe him. He could be scratching his nose because it’s itchy, not because he’s trying to hide how much he’s squirming inwardly.
“I don’t know. Doubt it, though. It hasn’t been that long. Besides, statements and invoices and stuff go to my accountant.” He walks toward the couch alone and plops down.
“You don’t check?” I ask, holding onto a glimmer of hope. Maybe he doesn’t manage his money at all. His accountant does everything, and Court has no clue.
“Of course I check, and he lets me know what’s going on, but it isn’t necessary for me to micromanage.”
My hope shatters like a glass rose. Now I have no choice. “Why did you open an account at Gavin’s the day after Hilary called to set up an interview?”
Court’s blue eyes flicker. “He’s everyone’s dream man for that sort of thing.”
“But you didn’t put your money with him until then.”
“It isn’t that much. Only a hundred million.”
The same amount he said he’d put in at SFG to help me get promoted before I found out about Dad and quit. “Did that have anything to do with my getting a job at Omega Wealth Management?”
Thoughts cross his face like lightning. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he scratches a spot on his forehead, near his hairline. “Only partially.”
The tremor starts from my chin and lips, then travels to my chest until my heart is aching and my stomach is churning. Even my knees feel weak, and I reach out and grip the back of couch. “You bought me a job there.”
He jumps to his feet. “No! Of course not. Don’t be crazy. I’m not that stupid. Look, I met with Gavin, and he said OWM passed on you for something that you didn’t do. It’s your dad’s fault you were stuck at the entry level for so long. Anyway, I convinced him to spare ten minutes. He countered with five because he’s a difficult bastard, but he said he wasn’t hiring you unless you’re good.” He stretches both arms toward me in a beseeching gesture. “And you are good. You dazzled him, and he had no choice but to give you an offer on the spot. Right? You went in and came out with a shiny new position. A promoted position! Do you think he would’ve done that if he thought you weren’t any good?”
What he’s saying makes sense in a way. My brain tells me it’s very logically laid out. But the feeling of betrayal is still in my heart, and it stabs like a thorn, especially because what I thought I did on my own turned out to be anything but. I would’ve been nothing without him—a man to make the chance happen for me. Just like Dad had the power to help my career ambition…or not. “I wanted to do it on my own, without any special favors greasing the wheels for me. I thought I was good enough to do it, and it was so important for me to prove to myself, and to my dad in particular, that I’m damn good.”
“And you are!”
“No, Court.” I shove my fingers into my hair, feeling pissed off and pathetic. “I only got the job because of what you did.”
He stares at me like I’m insane. “How the hell can you think that?”
“I ran into my dad today. Do you know how I felt when he told me about what you did?”
“You know he’s out to trivialize your career accomplishments. He did that at dinner, remember?”
Of course, but the reminder only makes my heart feel more hollowed. “If what you did is truly innocent, why didn’t you say something before?”
“It just didn’t seem that important.” He spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. “It honestly isn’t that much money.”
“You paid Gavin twenty million per minute to talk to me!” My voice is loud and sharp with frustration and anger. “You keep talking about how little the money is, like that’s enough to undermine the point I’m trying to make and belittle my feelings and aspirations. Maybe my career looks ridiculous to you because I’m making chump change, but it’s super important to me. Much more so now that I need to prove that I’m good, especially to myself.” And to Dad. It’s egotistical and it’s stupid, but I feel what I feel, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.
Most of all, what I fear is what he said in parting—about Court playing me. That he doesn’t see a future with me. That he’s been manipulating me. And him being dismissive about the money only makes me more unnerved, like what Dad said is true.
“But you are good! Gavin would’ve hired you even without my account, if only he’d had a chance to talk to you. And I didn’t give him anything. He has to give everything back when I close the account.”
I wasn’t even going to answer his justification about how he didn’t bribe Gavin, but… “You know, Gavin would’ve never hired me without your money because he wouldn’t have interviewed me. So. You’re wrong about that.”
“He also wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t impress him. And you did that all on your own.” Court spreads his hands. “I’m not even sure why you’re mad. Are you upset you’re working for Gavin or are you mad because I didn’t tell you?”
I hug myself. That’s a damn good question. “A little bit of both. I just wish I’d known. It’s my life, after all.”
Court stares at me. “Aw, no, come on. Don’t do that.” He plucks a Kleenex from the table and moves closer.
Then I realize I’m crying. Damn it. I swipe at the tears with the backs of my hands, embarrassed and furious with myself. “I’m fine. Just something in my eyes.” I lie worse than a three-year-old, but I hate crying in front of people. It’s so humiliating and ridiculous. “I gotta go.”
He jerks to a stop. “Go? Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere. I need to…have some space and think. What I learned today just sucker-punched me.”
I stumble out of the place…and into the waiting elevator. Once I’m in the garage, I run to my car. But in the Acura, seated behind the wheel, I realize I have nowhere to go. My apa
rtment is empty now. And most of my furniture’s gone, too—sold on Craigslist.
This is why you don’t move in with a guy.
I heave a sigh, then drive toward the small house Curie and Joe share. That’s the only place I can go anyway.
I pull up to the house, glowing with bright lights inside. It’s pretty and perfect, just like my twin and her life. And she’s going to move to an even prettier and more perfect place soon.
My car comes to a stop. I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I just need to be around someone who’s known me all my life and is going to understand where I’m coming from.
Moving with the slowness and deliberate care of a person who’s been seriously injured, I get out of the car, walk toward her door and ring.
The door opens. Curie takes one look at my face, then hugs me hard.
“Sorry to come here like this,” I say, sniffing.
“Sweetie, don’t even think that,” she says, pulling me inside.
The door shuts behind me.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Court
I don’t cancel my Friday night plans with Nate. Well, plans. Nate just called me out of the blue to go clubbing at Z. He said to bring Skittles, but I came alone, telling him she was busy.
That’s why she hasn’t called or texted since she left eight days ago, I tell myself, even though I texted her until my fingers were sore, and called her until I had to recharge my phone. I even drove to OWM like a lost puppy, but I couldn’t make myself go in to confront her. I didn’t want people to hear us argue and realize I opened an account there to get her an interview. Not because Gavin and I had any kind of illicit deal, but because I don’t want it to affect Skittles’ image there. Reputation matters.
But I still stand by my point that I didn’t do anything wrong, so what the hell. Okay, so maybe I should’ve told her about the talk I had with Gavin, but he would’ve never hired her unless she deserved the job, so it’s a wash. Besides, I had other things on my mind. Like her saying how it couldn’t be love. So technically it was her fault for distracting me.
Okay, maybe not really her fault, because she didn’t know I can speak Klingon. Or that I have real feelings for her. Feelings that are a mixture of adoration, respect, love and so much more.
But sitting in the VIP lounge isn’t the same without Skittles dancing somewhere in the club like before. I almost feel like I can sense her down there, except she isn’t there.
“Hey, what else do you think I can add?” Nate’s sudden question interrupts my brooding.
“What?”
He sighs, clearly annoyed. “Didn’t you listen? Every bachelor needs to submit a date plan for Elizabeth’s auction. So I’m saying flying to Las Vegas on my private jet and having a drunken orgy. But I wonder if there’s something else I can add to make it sound really disgusting.”
“Mud wrestling?” I suggest, my voice full of the enthusiasm of a man facing his last meal.
“Not unless the girls are hot. And naked.”
“You should say fly commercial economy.”
“That’s pain and suffering for me.” Nate shudders. “Ugh. No.”
“Genital piercing. Heard it scares women away.” I didn’t, but I don’t really care that much.
He gapes. “Who the hell told you that?” Then he gives me a closer look. “You okay, man?”
My spine seems to lose all its strength, and I slouch. “Yeah, sure. No.”
“What happened?” He stops. “Oh… It’s Snickers, isn’t it? She dumped you.”
“She didn’t dump me.” She hasn’t taken her stuff yet. Girls take all their shit when they’re done with you. “Shut up.”
“Then why are you here alone, looking so morose and dejected?”
“I’m not alone. As for morose, I’m putting up with you.”
Nate snorts. “What did you do to her?”
Whose friend are you? “What makes you think I did something?”
“If she did something, you wouldn’t be depressed. You’d be pissed off.”
Nate knows me too damn well. That doesn’t mean it isn’t irritating.
“Did you break her heart? Only pay fifty bucks for a dinner or something?”
Pulling back, I roll my eyes. “No.” Then I tell him, despite my better judgment because…well, I’ve already had four scotches.
When I’m done, Nate shakes his head slowly. “For fuck’s sake, did you make it crystal clear to her that the money isn’t that much?”
I nod.
“Did you also tell her having an account at OWM is actually for your benefit, because Gavin’s bound to make you even richer?”
Hmm. Did I? “I don’t remember.”
“Shoulda told her that. I mean, it isn’t like Gavin’s hurting for clients.”
That’s true enough. The man’s busy and loaded.
“Cheer up, man. A week from now, you’re going to look back at this and laugh at yourself for being so down. It isn’t worth it. Women are everywhere. As a matter of fact, date somebody in our circle.”
“What?” When did Nate become a matchmaker? “Like who?”
“Yuna?”
I make a face. “No. She’s like a sister to me.” Not to mention she isn’t my type. A little too thin. I like mine with soft, round breasts, beautiful aquamarine eyes and long brown hair. Like Skittles.
Fuck.
“You know what? Have about ten rounds, on me,” Nate says, patting my back a few times. “You’ll feel ten times more clearheaded. And you’ll call Elizabeth and tell her you’ll be a substitute bachelor at the auction because some shitbag had to pull out last minute because he’s apparently too important to help out kids with cancer. You’ll date the winner and realize she is your destiny. She’ll bid more than fifty bucks, and Starburst will become ancient history. Won’t even remember her in a month. I guarantee it.”
I gaze at Nate long and hard. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the lack of sleep…but his suggestion sounds immensely logical.
So I proceed to do exactly that—starting with the rounds of drink.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Pascal
“Are you sure you don’t want to work it out with Court?” Curie asks across the dinner table. We’re eating late because she and Joe had a meeting with their realtor—the old lady finally decided to sell—and got caught in traffic on the way home. Not that it matters. I don’t have much appetite. I only eat because I have to and because I know it’s going to worry Curie and Joe more if I don’t.
“Doubtful. Sorry I’m here like this.” Joe certainly can’t want a depressed sister-in-law moping around and ruining the newly wedded bliss phase of his marriage. And I bet Curie doesn’t want me borrowing all her clothes, even if we’re the same size, or using up all her crazy-expensive face creams.
“No problem, Pascal. You’re family,” Joe says.
“I just think it’s weird. He really seems crazy about you,” Curie says.
“What’s really weird is that I’m still crazy about him.” It doesn’t matter what he did or didn’t do. My head says he was manipulative and all but lied to me, but my heart goes gooey and achy every time I think of him. I prop my chin in my hand and sigh. “What does that say about me?”
Curie reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’re in love.”
“I am. Gah.” I stab my salad. “Why him? Why did he have to pay my boss?”
“Maybe it really isn’t that much to him,” Joe says. “He’s a billionaire. He probably doesn’t think about it the way we do.”
He has a point. Didn’t I see how casual Yuna was about money? Court fits right in with people like her. But I don’t. I just can’t wrap my mind around using that kind of money to secure an interview. Argh.
My phone rings. Is it Court again? He’s been calling incessantly, and I considered blocking his number for two seconds before I shoved the phone back in my purse with disgust.
Nope. It’s a number I don’t recognize. I don’t
think it’s Tom, because he’s given up on contacting me after Court’s casually delivered threat. Maybe somebody from work…?
“Hello?”
“Hey, you! You…candy bar!” come slurred words against really loud music in the background.
I frown. The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. And it’s definitely not anyone from the office. So… “Who is this?”
“Forgot already, huh? I tol’ Court women are fickle, Fifty-Buck Hershey Kiss.”
It finally clicks. “Nate?”
“Hey, she remembers! Court, she remembers. Court? Court? Aw, shit.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, worry gnawing at me despite myself. “What did you do to him? How did you get my number?”
“I know shit ’cuz I’m Nate fucking Sterling. We drank. Scotch. Good shit. I only drink good shit, you know. Introduced him to a lot of good shit.”
Oh. My. God. Men are idiots. “You shouldn’t let him get drunk like that!”
“Me? You blamin’ me? It’s yer fault.”
His accusation pricks at my heart, but I ignore the sting. “I’m not even there!”
I look up and notice Curie and Joe staring at me. I point at the phone and mouth, Moron, and move to the living room to deal with the drunken Nate.
Actually, forget that. I need to deal with Court directly. “Nate, put Court on the phone.”
“You’re dumber than Twizzlers. Can’t talk if you’re passed out. He’s a lightweight pussy. We only had, like…fifteen each? Or fifty.” He starts laughing.
That’s it. I give up. Nate’s waaay too drunk for this. “Call an Uber,” I say firmly, while doing my best to hide how pissed off and worried I am. “Do not drive.”
“I called you Snickers, but Court said you were Starburst. Made him happy or some crap like that ’cuz you shoot rainbows out of your ears.”
