Chapter 34
34
Cat
O n Tuesday, I’m slated to give the final presentation to my corporate finance class at 9:20 a.m. I’m after Lindsay Booth and before Daniel Sarkin. An ideal placement, because Professor Singh loves Lindsay with all her color-coded notes and her annoying questions, and he hates Daniel for being a finance bro who comes coked out to night classes.
He feels ambivalent about me, which is, frankly, an improvement over the attitude of my fellow students.
We only have the small group session once a week, so I’ve been treated to eleven occasions of slinking to my seat while my classmates whisper.
You’d think, after eleven weeks of this, they’d be tired of gossiping about me. But no, they aren’t, and I can’t blame them, because I’m far more interesting than corporate finance.
Her father…disowned.
Such a bitch.
I met her at a party once.
Theo Archer…that won’t last .
I take my seat before each class with my face burning and my eyes downcast, but today, I’m determined not to wilt. When Professor Singh calls my name, I smooth my hands down my dress, stand at the front of the class and square my shoulders.
The presentation goes, if we’re being charitable, not well. I accidentally skip a slide, a student asks a question I can’t answer, and the look on Professor Singh’s face gets more and more skeptical, like my presence is making him question why he went into this profession in the first place.
When class is mercifully over, he asks me to stay after, and my palms start to sweat. I press them to the textbook clutched in my arms and wait by his desk. Professor Singh is kind-looking but not kind in personality. He’s sharp and smart and all the things people look for in MBA grads, really. All the things I’m not.
Every time he looks at me with his piercing brown eyes, I feel like I’ve done something bad.
“Ms. Peterson,” he says, rubbing at his brow. “I think you already know what I’m going to tell you.”
I wait, my stomach in freefall.
“You’re failing my class.”
I nod, my throat unaccountably tight.
“You’re still only getting about half the homework right, and that presentation wasn’t up to snuff.” He smiles tiredly but kindly, for the first time ever. “I have to ask you,” he says gently. “Are you sure this is the right place for you?”
No. I’m not sure. In fact, in this moment, I agree with him.
“I’m doing my best,” I say quietly. “I want this degree.”
“All right. And I’m sure you’re aware you have to pass my class to obtain it.”
I nod. Professor Singh’s class is foundational, which means I can’t get my degree without it.
“We have a final exam next month,” he continues. “If you can get at least a B+ on it, you’ll pass. But anything less, and I’m sorry, but I think you’ll need to retake.”
I nod again, numb, and walk out of the building .
I take the subway without thinking about where I’m going. A good thing, I guess, because it means I know the city well enough to have an existential crisis on the six train and still get home in one piece.
Retaking is all well and good. If you have tuition money. If you’re not on a deadline to gain control of Peterson International.
Retaking means I wouldn’t be done with my degree for over two years. The company might be gone by then, sucked dry by my father and Arnold Worth the Fourth.
I’m sorry, Mom.
I drag myself home and compose emails to the board members of Peterson International, even though I just want to nap. Each one says some version of the same thing:
He’s ruining the company.
I’m the better choice.
I refresh my email for the rest of the day, but I don’t get a single response.
The bar is packed with Royals fans that night, and our shift is brutal. I’m grateful for the work and the way it keeps my brain quiet. And if I’m honest, I’m grateful for the way Blair took one look at my face and demanded we do shots before our shift.
But now we’re slammed, and I’m feeling the effects of the tequila. It doesn’t help that Blair’s arm is in a sling and she can’t use her left hand. I’m making cocktails while she’s pouring beers at half her normal speed.
“Is this going to affect the show?” I ask her as I make yet another vodka soda. I’ll never be able to drink one again after working here.
“The sling is a precaution. They have us doing some crazy dance that requires us to swing a partner under our legs. After a hundred reps, shit happens.” She lifts her uninjured shoulder. “I can’t afford an overuse injury. Belinda has a cold, so I think I’ll actually have to perform this week and next.” She rotates her shoulder and winces. “Ideally, I’d have two weeks off for recovery and performing, but—” She shrugs and winces again. “It is what it is. Maybe Joey can cover my shifts?”
“I can do it,” Daryl offers.
“No,” Blair and I say at the same time.
Daryl is an excellent barback, but he’s way too sweet and innocent to do the closing shifts like Blair does on Saturday nights.
“We love you, but no,” she repeats. “It’s for your own good.”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and goes to grab yet another keg. We’re tapped out again.
“I’ll ask Joey,” Blair says. “And then, I don’t know.” She chews her lip. “You can’t cover me, right? You have class.”
I nod. And events with Theo. “I can skip it. I haven’t missed any classes this semester.”
“No. Definitely not. They dock your grades for that, right?”
“They do. And Professor Singh and Professor O’Ryan are sticklers.”
“Not an option, then. I’ll figure it out.” Blair is playing it cool, but she’s worried. She’s been waiting for eight months for a chance to open the show. This is her moment, and I want to make it perfect for her. I’ll talk to Joey and Daryl and see what we can do.
“We’ll figure it out together,” I tell her. She shoots me a grateful smile, before I bend down to check the tap lines.
“How much light beer can one bar full of sports fans consume?” We’re already pouring foam. “Daryl better hurry.”
“What’s eating you?” Blair asks, as I mess with the tap line.
“Is it that obvious?” I stand.
“Yeah. I mean, you’re not sunshine and roses, but frankly, neither am I, and I know when something is brewing.” She tilts her head and watches me as I lean against the back of the bar, careful not to disturb the flavored vodka bottles.
“I’m failing one of my classes.”
“Shit,” she says. “I thought you were doing okay this semester. ”
“I was.” I sigh. “The whole marriage thing has been distracting. First there was the partying, and then we had to go to events, and then—”
“What?”
I check to make sure no one is listening before I lower my voice and say, “I came way too close to sleeping with Theo.”
“What?” Blair’s whisper-shout is loud behind the bar, and I shush her. “You slept with him?” she hisses.
“I almost slept with him. There’s a difference.”
“What does almost mean? Like…you kissed, or you got his pants off and freaked out?”
“You think I would freak out?”
My best friend rolls her eyes. “I love you, but yes, you’d probably freak out. I saw you that night he came in, remember?”
“Okay. That’s fair. But I didn’t freak out. It was very…mature. We slept in the same bed because his mom was visiting and he didn’t want her to know it was fake. I know,” I say at her raised brow. “He’s lying to his mother. And I am too. It’s not great. Anyway, we slept in the same bed, and when we woke up, he was tucked up against me and—” I shrug.
“Morning wood,” she says.
“Morning wood,” I confirm. Really big morning wood if the brief impressions I got were accurate. My stomach jumps at the thought that they were. That Theo is thick and impossibly hard every morning. I press a fist to my stomach. Oh god. I can’t go down that road.
“So one thing led to another…” Blair says, gesturing for me to continue.
“Sorta.” I look at my friend. “There’s another side to the list.”
“Another—oh.” Her eyes widen. “You never told me that.”
“Well, it’s embarrassing.” My face is getting hot even talking about it.
“And what, he’s helping you do it?” She scans my face. “Oh my god, he is. Holy shit.”
“Not all of it. Just some of it. He helped me buy some lingerie, and then there was a vibrator…so yeah.” I shrug. “He touched me. I didn’t touch him. It was just checking a box.” I grab a knife and start cutting limes, even though we already have a whole quart.
“Doesn’t seem like it’s just checking a box. What about the other items?”
“I guess I just won’t do them. I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.”
You’ll have to divorce me first.
I wouldn’t admit it, even under oath, but Theo’s possessiveness was hot. Hotter than I imagined that sort of thing could be.
“So you wouldn’t sleep with him?” Blair raises a brow, and I look back down at the limes. My cuts are uneven and haphazard. Some pieces are too big to fit inside a bottle. I press my palms to the counter and push the rising hurt back down. The hurt I didn’t deserve to feel.
“He got a text, Blair.” I cut her a glance.
“A text—oh. A nude.”
“Yeah, more than one, as far as I could tell. Multiple women asking him when they were going to see him again.” And even though I knew this was Theo’s life, in that moment, I felt so cheap. Just like I did that summer I saw him with that girl.
“Asshole,” Blair mutters.
“He’s not an asshole. This marriage isn’t real.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that. I don’t like the thought of people thinking your husband is cheating on you.” Blair’s voice is fierce.
“I could hug you.”
“Please don’t,” she says dryly, and I laugh. My best friend is not a hugger.
“He doesn’t text back, he says.” Blair raises a disbelieving brow. “And honestly, B, if he did?” I shrug, but I don’t feel casual. “It’s not my business. This is purely for show.”
“Purely for show,” she repeats. “So you’re not mad at him?”
“No. Definitely not. I mean, yes, things are a little awkward, but I’m not mad.”
“You sure? ”
“Yes. This isn’t a big deal. Why are you asking me—”
“Because he’s here.”
I turn, nearly dropping the knife. Theo is just sliding onto a barstool, and he looks delicious in a forest green sweater that pulls over his broad shoulders. He’s wearing a gold watch too, the band winking from his wrist. He never dresses up. Maybe he came from a date. Even though he promised he wouldn’t. My chest pinches.
I deliver the shots to the corner table and ignore him. If he’s here, he’s up to no good. Maybe he is meeting someone. Or maybe he just came to mess with me. Maybe someone up there recognized my words to Blair were only half the truth, and I’m being punished.
“What do I have to do to get service in this place?” he asks.
“What do you want, Theo?”
“I’m here on business,” he says with a jaunty smile. There’s something in his eyes I can’t read. They’re more intent than usual. His hair has product in it again, and his sharp jaw is clean shaven. He looks the part today—like a billionaire. A man who makes money in his sleep. A man who has risen from nothing to become unstoppable. I’m lucky that Theo has been a teasing playboy up until now, because this intensely male version of him makes me glad we have the wooden bar between us.
I cross my arms and stare him down. “Business?”
“Buy you a drink?” he asks. His mouth is slowly curving into a smile.
“Why are you smiling?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“I like when you’re prickly, Catherine. It makes me hot.” He winks. “How about that drink?”
“I can’t drink on the job,” I say shortly.
“Sure you can. We did shots together.”
“Mine were water.”
His eyes flare before a shocked laugh bursts from his chest. “Water? You did water shots while I got wasted? Damn, you’re good.”
I smile despite myself. “Yeah. It was some impressive sleight of hand, wasn’t it? Blair taught me.” I tilt my head toward my friend, who is watching us from the corner of the bar. “It’s useful when patrons get insistent. Sometimes the sign doesn’t deter them.” I point at the sign that Sylvia must have hung in the ’70s. It’s cracked and faded, but you can still read the words— No drinking with the staff.
“What if I could change that rule?” Theo grins at me, disarming and impossibly handsome. My breath shallows every time he gives me that smile, the one that shows the barest hint of a dimple in his cheek.
“You’d have to buy the bar.” I snort.
“Funny,” he says, right as Sylvia calls his name. His smile widens. “I just did.”
Then he’s turning to Sylvia and hugging her like they’re old friends as I gape. Sylvia is seventy-five and all muscle. She’s wiry and cranky—I assume from years of yelling at patrons and inhaling cigarette smoke before they made it illegal to smoke inside.
Theo ushers her to a table, and Blair comes to stand by my side.
“Did he just say what I think he said?” she asks. I look at her. She’s wearing an identical expression to mine—grim resignation. The expression of someone who has been subjected to the world’s whims for too long but knows she’ll have to find a way to survive this upheaval.
“I’ll make sure you keep your job.” I bump her with my hip. “I should have some influence with him.”
“You’ve got more than that, if the way he was looking at you is any indication.”
“What?” I stare at her in confusion.
She snorts, still watching Theo. “That man is falling for you.”
My stupid heart gives a hard thump. “You’re crazy,” I say. “The plot of the play you’re in is going to your head.” It’s a fairy-tale retelling, and my best friend is the last one who would fall for a fairy prince, but it seems like she thinks Theo might be one.
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
“This is fake, Blair.”
“What if it wasn’t?” She slides me a knowing glance .
“No. I don’t want to be married. I want to be my own woman before I fall for anyone. I have a whole life to live.” I feel like I’m twenty-two instead of twenty-eight. Newly free and a little terrified by the world of possibilities.
“Be careful,” she says softly. “He’s dangerous.”
My chest squeezes. “I know,” I respond. “Good thing he’s not an option.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He doesn’t want love. He’s a playboy. That’s why this is perfect. I don’t want to be married, and he doesn’t either. Besides, he’s never going to fall for me.” I snort. “He doesn’t even like me.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Blair says.
“Don’t get mushy on me, B.”
We fall silent as Theo strides back over.
“The bar will be closed for a month,” he says. “For renovations.” My stomach sinks. Blair has gone still next to me. I know what she’s thinking. A month of no tips.
“You’ll all get a month of paid vacation. Let me know your average weekly tips, and I’ll ensure you receive it in lump sum by the end of the week.”
“Oh.” Blair makes a surprised sound. This solves all her problems. Her shoulder can recover, and she’ll be able to give her all to the temporary role she’s earned. It’s for that reason alone that I don’t kick Theo out of the bar.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Theo Archer,” I hiss as Blair moves away to serve a group of office workers, “but you can cut it out right now.”
“I’d like to see you try and stop me.” He tosses me a smile. “I’ll be outside when your shift ends.”
True to his word, Theo is waiting outside the bar when I finish. He’s leaning against the grimy and graffiti-covered door to the storage room behind the bar .
“You’re going to get tetanus,” I say.
His gaze flicks up. “Try not to sound so hopeful.”
“I’ve heard it’s a slow and painful death.”
Theo’s mouth tips up, like I didn’t just wish for his demise. He gestures to the waiting car. “Drive you home?”
“I suppose.” I’m not going to turn down a free ride when my other option is a late-night subway trip from Penn Station. No one tells you that the sketchiest time to ride the subway in New York is weekday afternoons and Sunday nights.
Theo opens the door for me to get in, then slides into the quiet interior.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I tell him.
“Why not?” He seems genuinely confused, and I want to scream. Of course he doesn’t understand. He does whatever he damn well pleases. I’ve never had that luxury.
“That bar was mine, Theo.” My words come out harsh and angry, and I’m not going to bother hiding how I feel, because fuck that. “Not mine mine, but you know what I mean. And now you own it. You own it. Do you know how that feels?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone buy a bar just so I didn’t have to work before.”
“ That’s what you were doing? What was this, some sort of twisted grand gesture?”
“No,” he says.
Of course not , my bitter heart responds.
“I need you to be free. So I bought the bar. You can go back to working there after you come to Monaco with me. I thought I was doing you a favor. Fuck.” He shoves a hand through his hair.
“I’m not going to Monaco with you. I have class.” I cross my arms. I feel like a child, but I can’t stop. Ironic, really, that this is how I felt all the time as a child.
Theo smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You can do it remotely. I asked.”
“You what?”
“I called them,” he says slowly, like I’m an idiot .
“It’s a weekend.”
“They’re always open for big donors, princess. Come on.”
“You bribed them?” I sit up straight. “You bribed my school? What the fuck, Theo?” My voice is rising in the car, and I hope like hell that Daniel can’t hear me.
“I did what I needed to do. It got me this far.” He shrugs.
I see red. “I am not going anywhere with you.”
“It’s Monaco. You’ll like it.”
Theo doesn’t know anything. Monaco is the type of place I’d hate. I’d rather be home with a good book than be paraded around like an expensive handbag, an accessory to Theo’s success.
“No,” I say. “It’s exactly the type of place you like. I would rather be here, living my normal life.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks. I love when it does that, because it means I’ve won.
“You promised, Cat. You said you’d go to events when I needed you.” His gaze cuts to mine, and in it, I see the certainty that I’m going back on my word, like I’m that kind of person, and Theo’s not surprised about it.
I feel like we’re right back in the car together the day we got married, at each other’s throats and bargaining. It’s like the last seven weeks never even happened. The thought makes my chest ache, but I steel myself.
I was controlled once. I let myself be controlled. A stronger person would have left, and the person I am today won’t let Theo tell her what to do.
“I told you how much this type of freedom meant to me.” I blow out a slow breath.
His eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t name, but he nods once. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Anger is tightening my throat. “Do you understand what it felt like to be told what to wear and who to speak to? What college I could attend and what time dinner was and what color my hair was allowed to be? This is that all over again. ”
“It’s not, Cat, I swear. I was just trying to do something for you.”
“You were trying to do something for yourself,” I say bitterly.
I see realization dawning on his face, but it’s too little, too late. I press my head against the cool glass of the car and try to ignore Theo.
I thought he was different.