Chapter 12 #2
I did. Say so, that was. “You won’t be wearing that, will you?
” I questioned, sincerely hoping she would be changing before she walked out of here and in public.
The buttocks of her pants had bite me scrawled across it in rhinestones.
Rhinestones that I was sure were barely hanging on and would fall off with a few washes. You got what you paid for, I supposed.
Nick made strides toward the piano, sitting at it. He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass, observing but remaining stoic, quiet, as was his way.
“Yes!” Eloise shouted with enough enthusiasm that I was sure people in Paris could hear her. “But you’re not getting the full effect because I’m not wearing the matching jacket.” She brushed me off with a flick of her wrist and rolled her lips. “It’s a whole look, I assure you.”
That was what I was afraid of. “Interesting.”
“That gives me an idea,” she said far too cheerfully for my liking. In fact, it actually concerned me. “We should go shopping,” she blurted out without giving it a second thought.
More time with Eloise… I guessed I could think of worse ways to spend a day. If I strained myself and tried very hard.
“That sounds…like a good idea.” I’d have to initiate this little shopping trip, otherwise who knew where she’d take me. So, now I had another thing to plan. Great.
She waved dramatically at Nick, all of her fingers moving up and down in the gesture. “Ta-ta! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two.”
When she was out of the room, Nick set the glass on the top of the piano and sat manspread, leaning forward. “Are you going to answer my question?” he asked coolly.
“Hmm?”
Sighing, he repeated, “What’s this piano doing here, Candy?”
Running my freshly manicured hands down the sides of the burgundy Italian taffeta and velvet cocktail dress I was wearing, I licked my lips and went on to explain. “The piano is an early Christmas present, Nick,” I finally answered calmly. “Merry Christmas, darling.”
“Darling?” He cocked a brow. “A present for who?”
“My lover. He’s an immensely talented pianist, and when he comes over for us to have our scheduled rendezvous while you’re away, I always feel sad he has to abandon his extraordinary gift even for a moment.
” I refrained from rolling my eyes. What was with the silly questions today?
“You. It’s for you,” I answered more seriously. “Who else would it be for?”
“Someone who plays the piano.” He grinned. “Or someone who isn’t leaving you in January.”
Was it really necessary to remind me on a day we were set to look like a happy, prosperous couple? As if I didn’t know to begin with. “This has been planned for some time. Besides, just because we’re separating doesn’t mean I can’t gift you something nice.”
An arrogance below the surface had his lips tilting in a smug expression. “What’s this really about, Candy? Does someone we know have an instrument that’s taking up space in their house for no other reason than to collect dust, such that you suddenly feel so moved to have one yourself?”
“Irina.” I lifted my chin in a dignified manner. So what if she had one first? “This one is bigger, though, and more luxurious.”
“Naturally.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I never knew you to enjoy pissing contests so much.”
Aghast that he’d speak to me that way, I narrowed my gaze. “How dare you?”
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “So, all that crap about this being for me was a lie. Tell me, Candy, when did you get so comfortable telling lies?”
My nostrils flared as I tried my best to control my anger. I could hardly believe Nick was saying these things to me. “I am not a liar, and I take umbrage to the accusation.” The nerve of him.
“What does this make?” He looked heavenward before his eyes fixed back on my face, focusing on me before chuckling in a creepy, know-it-all way. “Two that I’m aware of at least.”
I ran my tongue along my teeth before placing it in my cheek. “So what if I thought it’d look good in the holiday card photos? I also thought it wouldn’t hurt for you to take it up as a hobby.”
“I don’t need a hobby.” He crossed his arms.
“Isn’t that what you always say, working at the sheep bar is—a hobby? Now who’s the liar?” I also crossed my arms.
“Come on, Candy. It’s a job, but it’s the first one in my life I’ve ever enjoyed. So, call it whatever you want.”
It was a hobby only when it suited him. But that was neither here nor there. “You don’t need a job!” I shouted. I cleared my throat and took in a lungful of air, finding it necessary before I continued. Man, he knew how to make my blood boil. “We’re billionaires.”
“It fills my time,” he said as though that explained everything.
“Thus, it’s a hobby?” I asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Shit, Candy, what the fuck does this matter, splitting hairs like this?”
Oh, was I making his blood boil now? If so, good. Served him right. “I just thought this piano could fill your time. You could learn to play. You’d play beautifully.” I sighed heavily, my chest falling like a deflated balloon. This discussion had really taken it out of me.
Silence quilted the room, the only movement the hardening of his jaw as he held my gaze, sneering.
Just then, our photographer was announced, and she entered the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Crane. Sorry if I’m a tad late. Between this weather and traffic, getting a taxi was horrific.”
When neither of us responded, she cleared her throat and set her bags down on the floor. “Anyway, are we ready?”