Chapter Twenty-Eight
Zoey
“ H e’s a bastard.”
I don’t have the energy to smile at Suzanna the next morning. “Go to work.”
“No! I’m taking a personal day. And I’ll take a personal week if I have to. You need me.”
“It’s over,” I say. “This place. My store. And I know you hate it, but…”
“You love it.” She scoots over on the sofa to me and hugs me, cushion I’m holding and all and my eyes burn.
“I can’t believe I was taken in by Edward Sinclair.”
“I can’t believe I never recognized him. Though come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of him. They’re rich as God, but they don’t flaunt it. Except, you know the brother currently on all the gossip sites and papers.” She sighs and pushes past the bottle of Jack she brought over last night to find the water. She pours some into a glass and hands it to me. “I don’t move in those circles.”
“I don’t either. I’m an idiot. A fool. I’m everything people roll their eyes at and whisper about behind their backs.” I pick at the edge of the cushion, blinking back the burn and the blur.
The last thing I’m going to do is cry over that bastard.
I never told Suze how far it went with him, only the kisses and I’m not going to. But I’m betting she’s guessed.
Being a good friend, however, she’s not going to say a word. But it’s there in her eyes as she looks at me, the knowing I harbor huge feelings for a man who doesn’t want them. A man who doesn’t deserve them. A man who manipulated me like I was made of the world’s softest clay.
I shouldn’t have done it. Not the falling in love with him…or the fantasy I created. And not the giving his fake grandmother money. Something I did on my own because I thought she needed it. He set that up with her. Except…except…his reaction said there was more to that than I thought.
It doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters except I’ve lost the store.
It’s not in writing. It’s not even being whispered, but that money being gone, him who he is, and the loan means he’s getting control.
“You can’t give up.”
I look at Suzanna. “Did you just tell me not to give up?”
“Yep. He doesn’t own this place. You’re the one thing that stands between his making some more money he doesn’t need and not doing that. Don’t give in.”
“I don’t want to, but he—” I stop. “It doesn’t matter if I try and stand up, he’s going to eventually win. And I don’t want to see him anymore.”
She stands up. “Get your things. We’re going to close up the store and you’re coming to stay with me for a bit. That way you can just think.”
What else am I going to do? Everywhere I look in here reminds me of him and what we did. What an idiot I am.
“Okay.”
Two days later and I know I have to do something. Like go back home and start packing. I’ve run the entire gamut of emotions. From wallowing to queen of revenge. The last is utterly tempting.
I could be as soulless as him. Fight him dirty, do everything I can to ruin him.
But really, what can I do? This isn’t Victorian times. And he’s an honest to God billionaire, something that makes me sick to my stomach.
I don’t know who he is at all, that’s the thing. I don’t know who I fell in love with. A construct, yes, but there must have been parts of the real him there.
Thing is, I don’t know how that changes anything. It doesn’t. Not one thing. The man is a scoundrel, a liar. A player.
Magnus or Edward or whatever his damn name is could have been completely open and honest about every part he showed me and he’d still be the man who shattered my heart, the man who came into my life with the express purpose of scamming me.
It seems cruel, that’s what it seems. A cruel thing to do. He makes all those love songs that bleed sadness a walk in the park.
How can I both hate and love him and not know who he is all at the same time?
Suze is at work and I haunt her place.
I’ve missed about twelve calls from Magnus. And ten identical texts telling me to call him.
With a sigh, I make my way out of Suzanna’s West Village apartment and to the Fourteenth Street and Eighth Ave subway to grab the L. I take the train to my Bushwick stop and breathe in the familiar air. It’s still threatening to rain, but it’s warmer today as I hurry to my store. I have the key in the lock for the apartment entrance when I freeze.
Every single sense in me is on high alert.
I grip the key tight, my fingers turning white. But I’ve done enough running away. Slowly, I turn and look up.
Magnus.
“Is it Edward? Or do you prefer Mr. Sinclair? Perhaps Asshole Supreme?”
He’s as devastatingly gorgeous as ever, and I study him, looking for the truth, but he just looks like Magnus. The jeans and cashmere sweater are beautiful, and look like they cost a fortune. But maybe that’s just me looking for the arrogant, evil billionaire lurking in the fantasy I fell for.
“I hate Edward. Magnus is what everyone calls me. I’m guessing Asshole Supreme is used behind my back.”
I’m not going to laugh. It’s not funny. Because he’s destroying what’s left of my heart with that rich low voice, that current of complexity that was always there.
“I’m the same person, more or less,” he adds, like he can read my mind.
“Go away.”
“Yeah, I figured that would be next. I can’t. Zoey, we need to talk.”
“You stole from me.”
“That was Amelia. And I wasn’t planning to steal. I’m planning to make sure you have more than enough. But you know there’s no way you’d be able to hold out.”
I nod slowly. My throat is tight and aching from the effort it takes not to fall apart. He doesn’t get that. “I can try and make life difficult. I could take all this to court—”
“I’d win.”
The sad regret in his voice riles me. “I’m aware. But I’m betting you never took it that far to where I’d try and fight you in court because I might be able to tie all this up for a long time.”
“Zoey, what if shit is just that, shit. It’s not happening. It didn’t. And I know you.”
“You think I’m a pushover?”
“The opposite, actually, but you’re a good person.”
“Fuck you, Edward.”
He stares at me because I’m not a big swearer. But I really don’t care right now. I hate him. I love him.
“Zoey, I needed to talk to you and you wouldn’t pick up, so if you give me a few minutes, I’ll get out of your way.”
“You deserve nothing from me. And you think I want a big pay out? You know I don’t. You lied to me. For some reason, you decided the best option for getting what you wanted was to come into my life and toy with me and my emotions.”
“I came into your life because I wanted to understand you, see what the best approach was.”
I shake my head. “That’s a lie. You did it to find a weak spot. Tell me, was it horrible having to lower yourself by sleeping with me?”
He recoils. “No. I didn’t. You and me, that was real. I didn’t mean to be like that. I didn’t mean to get involved. But I did because you’re you. Every single thing I said to you was the truth. About you. About how I feel about you. That was all real. And trust me, it would have been way easier if I didn’t like you. If you hadn’t gotten beneath my skin.”
Magnus takes a breath.
“So…what? You’re suddenly going to wave your wand and let me keep this place?”
“You can’t afford the upkeep. And this whole area is set to change.”
“You’re everything I said you were, Magnus. Evil. Greedy. Uncaring. Money isn’t the only thing in the world and you have more than enough. You think you can fix things by giving me money? I don’t want money. You know who always dreamed of a bookstore, who shared her love of books with me? My actual grandmother. A real person. She didn’t have much. No one did in my family, but she held it together. And she taught me to believe in my dream. All my memories are imprinted in this place and that is worth more than all your billions, Magnus.”
“Zoey, things move on.”
“How like a man who has no heart.”
He doesn’t smile as he looks me up and down. “I have one. Pumping blood. And you—”
“You know what, Magnus? You can steal this from me. Scam my money, but Helena Smith, my grandmother, is worth a billion of you and if I didn’t hate you so much I’d feel sorry for you.”
“Damn it, Zoey,” he says, moving up to me. “I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need that from you.”
“Here.” He hands me an envelope. “It’s the money from—”
“I don’t care.”
And before I can stop myself, I squeeze my hand into a fist, and I punch him in the face.
He’s so shocked he falls down and I crush the envelope in my other hand as the pain of hitting him ricochets up my arm.
“I never want to see you again, Magnus. You win.”
And with that, I turn on my heel, rush to my door and unlock it.
Once inside, the lock turned, I start to shake. And I give into the burning tears inside me as I slide down to the ground, the tears falling.
I hate him. I never want to see him again.
All that is true.
Just like the fact I still love him.
I don’t know what I’m going to do.