Chapter 20
TWENTY
THE DOOR SWINGS open, revealing a scene as sickening as it is predictable.
James is sprawled back against the cushions of the black leather sofa.
His shirt hangs open, chest exposed. His assistant is straddling his lap, facing him.
I vaguely recognize her from office parties.
One of the many assistants he’s had over the last few months.
Her hands are tangled in his messy hair.
She wears nothing but a flimsy scrap of black lace that barely qualifies as a bra.
A half-empty bottle of whiskey and two tumblers sit on the coffee table, the amber liquid glinting in the lamplight.
The room reeks of James’s heavy, cloying cologne, clashing with an unfamiliar floral perfume.
Hers.
I stand frozen, hand gripping the door handle. The scene is a brutal confirmation that rips the air from my lungs.
They haven’t seen me.
They’re lost in their own sordid world.
Then, a tremor of white-hot rage travels up my arm. I shove the door. It swings shut with a resounding SLAM that echoes off the polished walls.
The assistant’s laughter cuts off, strangled in her throat. Her head snaps toward the source of the noise. Then James’s.
They stare at me, framed against the closed door.
James’s eyes, hazy with whiskey and arousal, widen in shock.
Color drains from his face before his expression hardens into defensive anger.
The assistant, face flaming crimson, makes a frantic, clumsy move to untangle herself, to find something to cover her skin.
I hold up a hand. “Don’t bother.”
I pull the engagement ring off my finger and drop it on the glass coffee table. It hits with a sharp click.
“It’s over, James.” Disgust curls my lips. My voice trembles with anger and relief.
My gaze is fixed on him, my chin lifted in a dare.
Without another word, I turn and walk out, leaving the door wide open behind me. I rush down the hallway, driven by the need to get out.
Away from him.
Away from this place.
Heavy footsteps close in behind me.
James catches up with me at the reception desk. His hand clamps down hard on my upper arm, spinning me roughly around. His shirt still hangs open, his hair wild. He looks nothing like the polished, meticulously controlled man the world usually sees.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?!” he hisses, eyes burning.
He barely looks at me, fumbling to fasten his trousers.
He yanks me toward an open door and drags me inside.
Light filters in from the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the far wall.
Outside, the city sprawls, a glittering tapestry of lights.
The faint glow illuminates the room just enough to make out the long, polished table and the shadowy outlines of chairs.
The sudden darkness blinds me.
James is a silhouette against the cityscape. His features are obscured, but the rigid set of his shoulders and the rapid rise and fall of his chest radiate fury.
“You can’t just barge in like that, make a scene, and walk out.”
“Make a scene?” I laugh, tears welling up in my eyes. “Is that all you ever care about?”
“Did you even stop to consider how your intrusion would make me look in front of Candice?”
“Candice? How you look to Candice?!” I shove the conference chair. It crashes into the edge of the table. “You look exactly like what you are, James. A lying, cheating bastard!”
“Don’t you dare forget who you’re talking to.” He advances on me.
“Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to.” I slam my palms against his chest, forcing him back. “My fiancé.”
I shove him again. “Who left me.”
Shove. “Waiting.”
Shove. “For a long, miserable hour… alone!”
With one last shove, I slam his back against the wall. “While he was enjoying whiskey with naked Candice!!”
“You need to calm down!” he growls, hands shooting out to grip my shoulders. His fingers dig in hard.
“No!” Fury gives me strength I didn’t know I possessed.
I knock his arms up and away, breaking his grip. I stumble back, putting space between us.
“I’ve been calm long enough! I’ve bottled your shit up long enough! All the lies, manipulation, cheating… Enough!”
James stares at me. Shock flickers across his face before his usual mask of arrogant composure slips back into place. He straightens, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His lips press into a thin line despite his hurried breathing.
“How many different ways can I explain this to you?” he asks, his voice low. “All you have to do is be the good fiancée, and I will let you keep your little café and the loan I gave you to buy it.”
“James, please. It’s clear we both want out.” I appeal to his ego. “Why waste any more time with me when you could be out enjoying a different woman each night, no strings attached?”
James scoffs, leaning against the edge of the table with arms crossed.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, sweetheart.
That name plastered in gold across the glass doors…
? It says Devlin & Sons Financial. And sons,” he emphasizes.
“We attract heavy hitters with a penchant for family and all that is wholesome.” He grimaces.
“You fit the bill.” He gestures vaguely at me.
Completely numb, I drop into the nearest chair. “That’s it…?”
James shrugs. “You needed money to buy the café, and I needed a fiancée to solidify my social standing and business prospects—”
“I didn’t ask for your money,” I whisper, dazed.
“But you accepted it,” he counters. “A win-win as far as I’m concerned.”
I look him in the eye, fresh tears blurring my vision. “Did you love me at all?”
“We’ve had some good times together.” He shifts uncomfortably. “I just didn’t know you’d quickly become such a pain, with your expectations and demands.”
“But did you love me, James?” I repeat.
“Well, that depends on your definition of love, doesn’t it?
” He shakes his head, a condescending smile playing on his lips.
“My parents are the perfect couple. Publicly, anyway. Privately, they have slept in separate bedrooms and led separate lives since I was little. He offered her the world on a platinum platter, and she made him look good in society. My father is always envied for having such a perfect wife. And to me, they look quite content. But knowing you, you’d argue that theirs is not real love. ”
I shake my head. “It’s not. No.”
“And why not? Who says your definition of love is the only one that is right? I hate to break it to you, Mimi, but you’re in for a rude awakening if you believe that love is one-definition-fits-all.”
This is the closest to a heart-to-heart I’ve had with James in a long time.
I seize the opening. “Obviously, I’m not the right fit. I’m just a big pain.” The words rip at my throat. “And you deserve a woman who, like your mother, would be happy with this arrangement.”
“Still, it’s not that simple. We’ve already announced our engagement. Everyone who matters knows.”
“I don’t give a shit, James!” I snap. “This is my life, and I refuse to waste it on someone who clearly never loved me and never will—” My voice breaks. I swallow hard, fighting back tears.
Before I can take another breath, he cuts me off. “Save it, Amy.” His tone is flat.
As if my pain is an annoyance he needs to shut down, James lets out a loud exhale and pushes himself off the table.
He circles to the opposite side, trailing his fingers across the polished surface. “This is where deals are made,” he says, his voice infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “Not where hysterical fiancées come looking for drama.”
I stand abruptly, slamming my palms down onto the table. My gaze locks with his. “Let me go then. No more hysteria, no more drama. And we’ll come up with some type of repayment plan for the loan.”
“No deal, sweetheart. I already told you it’s not that simple,” he reminds me. “Someone like you leaving a man of my status makes no sense. It gets people wondering. They’ll start talking, making up stories. Stories that might put me in a bad light. A risk I am not willing to take.”
Fury rising, I turn my back to him, hands balled into fists, jaw clenched so tight I fear my teeth might crack. I grasp at whatever shred of control I have left.
“If you want out of this engagement so badly, there should be no question in anyone’s mind that you’re the one at fault.
” He pauses momentarily. “You’ll have to be seen with another man, and I don’t mean holding hands.
You’ll have to put on a show. Give them something to talk about.
Make it clear you’re the reason I break off this engagement. ”
I spin back around. “You want me to cheat on you?” My voice rises in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Relax, it’s just a performance. One night, one incident,” he replies. “I’ll make sure key people are at the club with me to bear witness and spread the word. Then you can go back to your mediocre life and move out of mine.”
I stare at him, my mind reeling. “This is insane.”
“This is my offer. The only deal on the table.” His hand hovers, then descends, fingertips barely touching the surface, like a spider landing on its web. “Question is: Do you have what it takes, wholesome Amy?”
“Only you would make my devotion feel like a weakness.” I spit the words at him.
I shake my head, tears now flowing freely down my cheeks.
“Yes or no,” he insists, as if my feelings are of no consequence. “You in? Or out?”
I swipe my wet cheeks, determined not to let him see me break.
“You want to end this?” he continues, oblivious to my pain. “This is how it ends.”
I inhale deeply and finally speak up. “You will stop threatening me with your fucking loan and agree to let me repay it in monthly installments.”
“Done,” he agrees instantly.
“I want it in writing, signed, the minute I go through with this,” I demand.
“Well, well.” He lets out a dark chuckle. “Look who’s finally agreed to play.”
“I’m serious, James.”
“Oh, so am I,” he reassures me. “But if I were you, I would worry less about the paperwork and more about where you’ll be living once you move out of my apartment.”
His words stop me cold.
Of all the things I’ve considered, this is the one thing I completely overlooked.
“Oh, you forgot about that little detail, didn’t you…” A sly smile curves his lips. “I could be swayed if you’re willing to trade sex for lodging—”
“Fuck you, James!”
I reach for the door handle when he stops me. “Shouldn’t you be asking me for the time and place?”
Taking one last deep breath, I turn around, meeting his gaze with a cold, deadpan stare.
“Next Friday, Hydra Nightclub. Make sure you and your new beau are romancing and gallivanting around my usual booth no later than eleven. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“That’s only a week away.”
“That’s your deadline.” He shrugs indifferently. “And no public cheating, no deal. Be sure to remember that.”
“Just bring the signed paperwork with you.” I yank the door open.
“One last thing…” I roll my eyes in frustration before facing him again. “Leave that black wig of curls at home this time.” He winks.
“Go to hell!” I shout, slamming the door behind me.