Chapter 37
37
Cat
J ust a few days later, we’re in Monaco. The hotel George booked is the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in. It’s in the middle of everything, with a massive terrace overlooking the square. There’s a full dining table in our suite, two rooms with king-size beds, and clusters of couches and tasteful floral arrangements in the living room.
“There’s a hot tub out here.” I poke my head out of the terrace door. The air is warm and salty here. People are enjoying afternoon coffees in the square below.
“I know,” Theo says.
I look back at him, where he’s making an espresso. “You’ve stayed here?”
“A few times.” He shrugs. “The hot tub in Jonah’s suite is better. Bigger.” He gives me a naughty smile. “The jets are positioned just right.”
“You are the worst,” I mutter, but a shiver runs through me.
“I’m creative,” Theo says. He comes up beside me and passes me an espresso. “You’re going to need this. ”
“Why?” I eye him suspiciously. “What’s on the debauched agenda?”
“Just shopping today,” he says.
“Shopping? You’re coming too?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” His smug look says he has some tricks up his sleeve, but that he’s not going to let me in on the joke. “We need to see and be seen.” He downs his coffee in one gulp. “Lorenzo doesn’t believe us. We’ll have the event at his casino, but other than that, we’ll be flaunting this relationship all over Monaco. He basically told me if I were serious about you, we’d be noticed by the tabloids."
I make a face, before I blow on my espresso. “I’m sorry I’m such a crappy actress.”
He smiles. “If someone asks how we met, what are you going to say?”
“That you were my friend as a teenager,” I say. “I’m a bad liar. We established this. What did you want me to say? What have you been saying?”
His eyes turn serious. “I’ve been telling people that I was in love with you. That we were star-crossed lovers, and when I finally got my chance, I took it.”
His words spike agony below my ribs, wrap around my heart.
“I told people that you’re the girl I always wanted. That everyone I’ve been with since you has been a means of erasing the memory of you. How you taste. How you feel.”
“Please stop,” I whisper.
“Why?” His voice is low.
“It’s too much.” I drag in a breath. “I can pretend with you. I promise. But I don’t want to talk about the past.”
At nineteen, I would have given anything for Theo’s words to be true. And the fact that he’s using our past as a lie to help his business? I hate it.
Theo frowns, like he’s going to argue with me.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say before he can respond, then I turn for the door.
Shopping with Theo turns out to be unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. And I’ve been to my fair share of fancy stores. But here, he’s greeted by name, and I’m greeted as Mrs. Archer. Every store we step into has a back room reserved for us, with water and champagne.
Theo doesn’t buy anything. He just watches me with those searing green eyes as I run my hands over dresses in every color.
I missed this. Not the shopping, but the freedom of not worrying about anything, just enjoying a day of indulgence. Perhaps I appreciate it even more now. My insides do a little dance of happiness when I see a dress in the perfect pink shade.
“Definitely that one,” Theo says from behind me. He’s like a bodyguard. Always watching over me, reaching around me to slip his credit card into the cashier’s hands at each store.
“I didn’t know you had such definite opinions on women’s clothing,” I say, glancing at him. He changed into a linen suit in olive green before leaving the hotel, and it might the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him wear. His skin seems tanner, his eyes brighter.
“Oh, I do. Especially when it comes to taking it off.” He winks.
I groan and turn back to the dress, fingering the delicate straps that tie in looping bows at the back, the lace edging the top of the bodice. It’s frilly and perfect and something I would have worn before and loved.
“Try it, Cat.” His voice is at my ear, raising goose bumps on my skin. “It’s the exact color of your lips.”
I freeze, my pulse hammering.
“I’m not that girl anymore.” I slide him a glance.
He’s frowning. “What does that mean?”
“Where am I going to wear a frilly pink dress? Certainly not to class. It would be ruined in an hour at the bar.” As much as I want it, I need to be realistic.
“Wear it with me. To brunch. Or dinner. Wear it on the boat tomorrow. ”
“This is going to end,” I whisper. “I’m going back to my regular life.” Why doesn’t he understand this? “It’s worse to have something and have it taken away. I’d rather not have it at all. So stop .” I turn on him. “Stop trying to make things nice for me. Stop being kind. Just be an asshole, and then when it ends, I’ll be happy it did.” I press my palms against my eyes. My shoulders are shaking and my heart is racing, and, fuck , I hate this. A cold Theo I could handle. But he’s not cold. He’s impossibly wonderful. My heart is already entangled, and I can’t bear for my head to be.
He grasps my wrists and tug my hands down. His eyes are soft. “I’m not going to be an asshole to you.”
“Please, Theo.” Don’t let me fall for you.
“Try the dress,” he says. He reaches around to remove the dress from where it’s perched. A sales associate rushes over to add it to the dressing room. I open my mouth to argue, but a group of women comes in, laughing and posing to take photos. I recognize one of them. She’s an influencer from New York who vacations in Europe. She sees Theo, then me, and she whispers to her friends.
“Come on.” He tugs me toward the back room, ignoring the women, though I know this is all for their benefit.
“Turn around,” I hiss, when we’re shut inside the opulent changing room. Theo sips champagne and leans against the wall.
“I’m not looking.” He takes his phone out, as if to prove a point. I turn and slip my shoes and my dress off.
I can still hear the women giggling through the door. A slam of another door, and then I hear “That’s his wife. The disgraced socialite. Heard her family cut her off.” The words are crystal clear through the wall. They must be in the room next door.
In the mirror, I see Theo go still and then take two quick steps toward me.
“I can’t believe he married her,” the woman continues. “She always seemed boring to me. I used to run into her at parties. She was so…meek. I don’t know what a guy like him is doing with a girl like her. It won’t last. He has his pick of women.”
My lungs feel like they’re half the size they usually are. This woman is plucking my fears and self-doubts straight from my brain and spilling them out.
Theo’s hands land on my shoulders. His eyes are flickering with anger. He doesn’t make a comment about my underwear or how I’m almost naked. Instead, he dips his head to my ear. “Want to show them boring?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say on a breath. “Please.” I’ll do anything not to be the girl they think I am. Boring. Sheltered. Naive. Not good enough for Theo.
“Up against the wall.” He turns me, presses me into the cool plaster. My nipples pinch under my lace bra. His hands bracket my hips. His chest is at my back. I’m nearly naked, and he’s fully clothed.
“What are you—”
“Fuck, like that,” he groans. I still. He smacks a palm against the wall, and I stifle a laugh.
The voices on the other side go silent.
“No laughing, princess.” His breath is hot in my ear before he continues. “Yeah, baby. Oh fuck.” He groans again. “When you use your tongue like that, I—yeah, rough. Fuck, you’re good. The best I’ve ever had.” His hips buck into me. He’s hard. All the way hard, like he’s actually in my mouth, about to come. I want it. I’m no longer in danger of laughing. Instead, I’m in danger of combusting.
“Cat, I—I’m gonna come, baby.” He shoves me into the wall, like I’m giving him the roughest blowjob ever. His teeth scrape my shoulder.
“Swallow me. Fuck. You’re so pretty. My fantasy come to life.” The words thrum through me. “Swallow—” He groans again, long and shuddering, and smacks his hand against the wall. He presses his mouth to my bare back.
I sag like I just came too. Theo’s hand is the only thing holding me up.
“Fuck, Cat,” he whispers, his voice gravel and for me alone. “Give me a minute.” His chest is heaving against my back.
“Why?” I whisper. “Why would you do this for me?”
He steps away, and I turn, watching him get control of himself. He passes me my clothes. “Muss your hair, princess. Bite your lips.” He sounds angry.
I get dressed and do as he says, but I don’t understand why he’s so upset. I’m the one who should be upset, even though these are things I’ve heard a hundred times, and I should be desensitized to them.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as he wrenches open the dressing room door.
He whirls. His eyes are flashing. “What’s wrong? I won’t stand here and listen to people talk about you like that.”
“It’s fine. It happens all the time. Even in class—”
“Who?” He bites out.
“I don’t even know their names.”
“Well, find out.”
The women exit the dressing room next to us and stare at him before snapping covert photos. He doesn’t grace them with a look, just watches me, breath coming in soft pants, jaw clenching.
“You don’t need to avenge me,” I say softly.
“You’re my wife.” He steps in. “I know you don’t want to be married to me.” His voice is hoarse. “But for the next ten months, you better get used to me defending you. Now let’s go. I’m buying this dress.”
He doesn’t speak until we’re walking back to the hotel. He sent our bags with a hotel employee, and now he’s free to wrap his hand around mine. This is all too much. I feel like I’m going to break at any moment.
“Tell me what happened after I left,” he says. “In detail.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.” He squeezes my hand. “I want to know.”
But I don’t want him to know. I should have left sooner, and I should have been braver. The whole thing is so pathetic that I try not to think about it.
“I’m not proud of this,” I warn. “You might think less of me after.” He’s silent, and I sigh. We’re on a side street where the buildings press close and the afternoon sun makes patterns on the cobblestones. It feels cozy and private, and I guess if I had to pick a place to bare my soul, I’d pick here.
“My grandma died a year before we got married. Fifty-one weeks before I met you at the club.”
“I remember her,” Theo grumbles. “Mean old witch. She used to pinch me when I got too close to the furniture.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like her. She was tough, but she loved me. I think she loved me more than anyone in that house did, actually.”
Theo cuts me a look, but I keep going. “But this started long before she died. When I turned twenty, she let it slip that her shares of Peterson International would go to me. But she didn’t tell my dad how many. He assumed it would be some of them, not all of them. She owned 40 percent. My dad has 15 percent.”
Theo nods. “Enough for him to control the company if he got all of them, but he got none.”
“Exactly. A single person needs more than 50 percent of the shares to make decisions single-handedly. I would always be involved, and my dad couldn’t stand that. His mission in life became to marry me off to someone he could manipulate and manage.”
“Prick,” Theo mutters. “Why not let you run the company? He’s not that young.”
“He would never. Don’t you remember him?” I look up at Theo in the afternoon light. The sun is caressing his face, gilding him like a god.
“I guess I mostly remember the things he did to me or my mom,” he says ruefully, but all I feel is relief. I don’t ever want Theo to know the truth of our childhoods. The thought of my father’s anger and hatred for him still makes my stomach turn.
“Well, he didn’t think I was suited to run the company.” My stomach twists at the memories. “I asked him so many times as a girl. I wanted so badly to go to the office with him, to play at being CEO. He didn’t want a woman at the head.”
“Fuck that,” Theo exclaims. “Companies with female CEOs are more profitable. He’s running Peterson International into the ground if the earnings are anything to go by. And you’d be damn good at it.”
His words buoy me. I could love him for saying that. Instead of sympathy, he’s armed with cold, hard facts. He doesn’t think I should get the position out of nepotism, but because I’d excel at it.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I plan to be. When I inherit the shares, I’m going to turn it around.”
Theo nods, sharp and angry.
“Anyway. I tried to find a husband for a year.”
He growls under his breath.
“What?”
“Go on,” he bites out. “I know I was your last choice.”
I laugh. “Are you jealous? Don’t be. I started with the men I thought I could control. You’ve never been on that list. The problem was, if I could control them, he could too. You’re perfect, Theo.”
“Yeah?” His mouth hitches up. “You think I’m perfect?”
“Not like that, you dork.” I bat his arm. “You hate my father enough to defy him, and you’re happy to divorce me when the year is up.”
“Right,” he says. His face is taut.
“Things went downhill when I wouldn’t marry Arnold Worth. He’s the son of my father’s business partner and an executive at the company. My father told me he’d cut me out of his will, kick me out of the house, and smear me publicly. Which he did, as you know. Instead of waiting for that to happen, I ran. In the middle of the night. I took two suitcases and called a cab to meet me at the end of the driveway. I took the train to Blair’s apartment, and I didn’t look back.” I wipe a sweaty palm down my dress. “I still remember how scared I was that he would find me. I threw away my phone because I was worried he could track me with it. I got so lost on the way to Blair’s.” I smile at the memory. It feels silly now, since I know the subway by heart, but those first days in New York were terrifying in their openness. A world of possibility, and I’d never been less sure of how to take advantage of it .
“And he retaliated.” Theo’s voice is low and angry.
“As you saw. It’s silly, but I kept hoping he would change, you know? I think I’m still hoping. Maybe one day, I’ll learn my lesson.”
I look over at Theo. His mouth twists unhappily. “Yeah,” he says. “I kept waiting for the same with my dad.”
My lungs force out all my air, like I’ve been punched. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“I’m sorry too,” Theo responds. His gaze cuts to mine. His eyes are stormy and filled with emotions I can’t name.
“I’m not,” I snort. “I should have left years ago. Now I can do what I want, when I want and be the person I want.”
“You won’t miss Rockwood?”
“I have good memories there. Mostly with you.” I smile at him. “But lots of bad ones. And I didn’t leave much I care about, except some things of my mother’s. Her earrings. Her diary. I would have liked to have those.” My words trail off as my chest tightens. My mom . I don’t think about her except when I’m alone. I don’t talk about her except occasionally with Blair. And now with Theo. “It was her diary that made me want the company, actually.”
“Yeah?” We turn a corner onto a larger street. There are shops here, and planter boxes spilling over with bright flowers, people going about their day.
“Yeah. My grandma gave it to me. My mom wanted to run Peterson International too, but she didn’t know how to stand up to my dad. In it, she said she wanted a different future for me.”
Theo’s jaw works, and his hand tightens on mine. I can’t read him. Is he upset? At me? For me?
“Do you miss her?” he finally asks.
“Every day,” I say.
He stops in the street.
“What are you—”
He hauls me against his chest before I can finish speaking. His heart beats steady under my cheek. He’s clutching me like I’ll disappear if he loosens his arms, and instead of being uncomfortable, it’s wonderful .
I told him to be an asshole to me, and he responded with this. I should push him away, but I don’t. Instead, I relax into his embrace.
I let Theo hold me in the middle of the street, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like things might be okay.