I catch Laurie in the kitchen about to leave for work. She’s already made coffee and poured some in a travel mug.
“Lookee you all glowing,” she teases. “I would ask you about your night, but since I heard…”
“Shut up,” I mutter, pouring myself a mug of the steaming black coffee. “You let him in?”
“Yeah, he called me when he was on his way up.” She frowns. “He said he tried your phone a couple times but you didn’t pick up.”
“I was asleep.” I only saw Landon’s missed calls when I woke up to find him gone. “I wasn’t expecting him to come over. He told me he was working late.”
“Well, you kept him working late.”
I give her a threatening glare, but she grins, unfazed.
“How would you like to hit the clubs Friday night?” I ask. “Chelsea invited us.”
She shrugs. “Why not? If anybody ever needed that kind of fun, it’s probably me.”
“It’s not that bad,” I say encouragingly. “You know it isn’t. Brett’s probably hurting as much as you are.”
She doesn’t reply. She still hasn’t allowed him to explain about the girl from the deli. He’s probably taking it really bad that they might actually be at the end of their relationship. I’m tempted to plead with Laurie to give him another chance, but I’m not sure if it’s because I miss the familiarity of both of them together or because I really think he’s the best for her.
I get ready for work, and when I get downstairs, Joe is waiting in the car. I pause for a moment to admire the sleek lines of the obviously expensive vehicle. Do I really want to arrive at work every morning in a chauffeured CTS? That’s a conversation I might have to bring up again with Landon.
Before Joe can come around to open the door for me, I take the few steps to the car, pull the handle, and freeze in a mixture of pleasure and surprise when I see Landon waiting inside.
Grinning like an idiot, I join him in the back. “Hi sexy,” I drawl, admiring how mouthwatering he looks in his three-piece. He’s the quintessential image of the billionaire, as different from the uninhibited man who fucked me senseless last night as it’s possible to be.
“Good morning,” he replies, his gaze traveling over me like a caress.
“I dreamed about you last night,” I whisper, teasing his blue silk tie with the tip of my finger. “It seemed very, very real.”
He raises a brow. “If you thought for a moment that was a dream, then I have to work harder next time and make sure you’re really awake.”
Next time? I suck in a breath. “Are you going to make a habit of slipping into my bed?”
“I’m going to make a habit of going to bed with you every night.” He raises a hand to stroke my face gently, and I sigh. “Let’s have dinner at my place tonight,” he proposes, his hand finding its way to my thigh. The light caress is enough to make me wish we were anywhere else, somewhere private.
“Okay.”
“Will you spend the night?”
Will I? I hide my smile. I’d probably go back there with him right now if he keeps doing what he’s doing with his hand. “Yes, of course.”
“Come over straight from work,” he says. “Don’t bring anything.”
I frown. “Why not?” I’ll have to go to work from his apartment in the morning and will need a change of clothes at least.
“You’ll see,” he says cryptically, reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve a keycard, which he hands to me. “We added some security measures at the hotel, but this will allow you to access my apartment whenever you want.”
I take the card from him. He’s just given me the keys to his apartment. I don’t even know what to say. I want to ask if he’s ever given any other woman so much access to him. I want to hope it means something. I smile and slip it in my purse. “Thank you.”
“I’ll leave for San Francisco on Thursday morning,” Landon tells me, sounding regretful. “A plane will be here for you Saturday morning. I’ll have someone take you to the airport.”
Thursday to Saturday—two whole days when I won’t see him. I swallow the ache, the twinge of sadness. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“To me being gone?” He’s teasing, and there’s a small smile playing on his lips.
“No.” I chuckle. “To joining you on Saturday.”
He squeezes my hand. “Can you go out tomorrow night?”
“Yeah.” I search his face. “What’s happening?”
“A friend of mine.” He grins when I raise my eyebrows. “A friend of mine is launching a new product for the American market, some new European champagne brand. There’s a mixer, and I want you to come with me.”
I realize there’ll probably be press there, people who’ll talk about the fact that I was there with him. I would be there as his girlfriend. If I still have any misgivings, any desire to hold back, this is my chance to make a U-turn.
“Of course.” I smile at him. “I’d love to.”
He smiles back. Joe slides into the front of the Gilt building and stops the car.
“Enjoy your day,” I whisper, placing a quick kiss on his lips before reaching for the door handle.
“Wait.” Landon’s hand snakes out and catches my arm. He leans forward and kisses me properly, for long enough that I can feel the shocks of pleasure in my toes.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he says.
I nod and stumble out of the car on unsteady legs. I can hardly wait.
AFTER work, Joe is waiting to drive me over to the Swanson Court. I send a quick message to Laurie on my way over, telling her I won’t be home all night.
At the underground car park, I thank Joe politely before following the security staffer who directs me toward the elevator. The card Landon gave me ensures that when I get to the penthouse floor, the doors slide open, letting me into Landon’s apartment.
I’m almost overwhelmed again by the size and beauty. Like the rest of the hotel, the architecture reflects the time when it was built, and the décor is luxurious, yet comfortable. After I go upstairs to leave my bag in Landon’s bedroom, I come back to the living room to look more closely at the pictures of Landon’s family. I’m charmed by a photo of Landon as a towheaded but serious-faced child, and one of the whole family laughing at the beach.
Later, I wander to the balcony, and then back inside to place a call to the hotel restaurant. I order dinner on hotplates for when Landon arrives. After that, there’s nothing else to do but wait for him, so I lie on one of the sofas. To stop myself from dozing off, I start to play with my phone.
I still get emails from the search alert I set up for Landon, but I’ve been ignoring them for the most part. At first I didn’t want any reminders of him, and then later, I was determined to avoid something that felt very much like spying on him. Now I see that another alert has popped up, and out of curiosity I decide to open it, thinking it might be the picture Chelsea was talking about.
The first news story is about the Swanson Court Hotels, and I frown as I read the first paragraph describing how Landon is opening the Gold Dust amidst rumors and accusations of coercion in the acquisition of properties.
The publication is a reputable online news source, so I know it’s not just gossip. I frown, wondering how serious the accusations are, and why Landon hasn’t let on that there were any problems.
The next story is older, on a gossip site, and there’s a grainy picture of me and Landon at the airport from Sunday with a headline screaming about billionaire Landon Court and his ‘companion.’
I’m still laughing about that when I open the next story. This one is newer and has two images with no accompanying writeup. In one of the pictures, I see Landon and some woman in front of the SCT Building. The second one has Landon and the same woman having dinner at a restaurant. In the first shot, Landon is holding a car door open for the woman, and she’s smiling up at him. In the second one, their faces are close together and they’re both laughing, her hand on his arm. I look for the date of the article and my heart goes cold. It’s from yesterday.
I stare at the woman’s face, trying to remember if I’ve ever seen her before in all the other articles I’ve read about Landon, but I can’t recall the face from anywhere. The quality of the images is not so good, but from what I can see, she’s beautiful, with glossy black hair hanging halfway down her back and full, red lips. I close my eyes. Last night, when he said he was working late, he was meeting with this woman.
He lied to me.
And then he came to my apartment. My memories from last night are so clear that I can still feel him slipping into bed with me, freshly showered after spending his whole evening with her.
I’m suddenly trembling. The thought of Landon leaving me at some remote date is something I’ve schooled my mind to expect and accept, but the idea of him being intimate with another woman while lying to me and making me feel like I matter to him…
It’s not something I can bear.
I try to breathe, to stay calm, but I’m helpless against the deep clawing desperation threatening to drown me, the realization that I’m nothing more than a temporary indulgence, a plaything.
I allowed him to suck me back into his life. I buried my head in the sand and developed a false sense of security. Now every intimate moment we shared seems like a lie.
Feeling like I’m suffocating, I leave the sofa, going toward the elevator in the foyer. At first I just want to leave the apartment, to go outside where I can escape the surroundings that are so full of him.
When did dinners with beautiful women become ‘working late?’ What kind of egotist is he if he’d gone out of his way to pursue me, only so he could lie to me and show me that I meant nothing to him?
At the ground floor, I hurry through the front lobby. Under the awning over the sidewalk, the doorman gives me a questioning glance, as if wondering whether to call me a cab. I ignore him and start walking. It’s just beginning to get dark, and the air is changing, getting colder.
I pass several buildings, blind to everything but the worst of the possibilities playing through my head, making me want to cry. I don’t consciously start walking toward home until I realize that the only thing I have with me is my phone. I have no money, no keys to my apartment, even the keycard Landon gave me is back at his place, so I can’t go back to get my things.
There are other people on the sidewalk, some meandering, others walking with purpose. I blend into the crowd, my face down, my eyes teary, wondering if the pleasure of being with Landon is worth the pain I’m feeling.
How much did I really mean to him if he could lie to me just so he could spend time with someone else?
I’ve been walking for a while when my phone rings. I switch it off without looking at the screen, not confident of my ability to have a rational conversation, especially with Landon.
I remember my mom’s advice. It should never be about the man, but about how he makes you feel. Right now, I feel like crap. The lack of certainty, the inevitability of heartbreak, the depth of emotion I feel, emotions he’ll never return…it hurts. It wounds me in ways I never thought possible.
Yet being without him wounds me more.
I don’t want to be stuck in this state forever, wanting more than he can give, unable to ask for it, and yet unable to walk away.
But what can I do?
I walk for what seems like hours, although it can’t have been that long. When I reach home, my legs are aching as much as my heart.
Landon is standing on the sidewalk in front of my building, his hands deep in his pockets, his eyes scanning the street. They settle on me as soon as I turn the corner, and I see his expression change from tense anxiety to profound relief.
He rushes toward me. “What happened?”
The desire to walk into his arms wars with the desire to walk away. He places soothing hands on my shoulders. “What happened?” he repeats softly.
That’s when the tears start to fall.
Landon hugs me tightly then retrieves a white handkerchief from his pocket and wipes my face. “I got home and you’d left, but your things were there.” He looks at me, concern etched in his features. “What’s wrong?”
In the face of his tender concern, it’s hard to tell him that I walked out from his apartment because I saw a picture of him with another woman. Suddenly, I feel immature and foolish.
I breathe “I…”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” I step away from his arms, trying to regain my composure. “Where were you?” I ask softly. “Where were you last night?”
Landon frowns. “Where was I?”
“You told me you had meetings, but I saw a picture of you having dinner with some woman.”
His whole body seems to stiffen. “You what?”
“I saw you.” My voice sounds small and petty, even to me. Why hadn’t I considered that he would be here, waiting for me? I breathe. “I saw you with your dinner date, and you looked like you were having a good time.”
He looks hurt and confused. “And you left?” he exclaims, his voice sounding incredulous. “You didn’t think you needed to ask me about it before walking away?”
I close my eyes. “You lied to me about where you were last night. Maybe I didn’t want to wait to be lied to again.”
He laughs, and it’s a frustrated, angry sound. “I didn’t lie to you. I had meetings. I had a meeting with her, just like I had meetings with other people over the course of the day. I decided to conclude our meeting over dinner to save time. Are you satisfied, or would you like a fucking list of every single person I spoke to yesterday?”
I feel as if he slapped me. “I’m not supposed to care that you were out with someone else when you told me you’d be working? I’m not supposed to care that you didn’t think to mention it to me until I saw it online? Fine then.” I shrug. “I don’t care.”
He glares at me then turns away, pulling out his phone from his pocket to make a call. “You can come back now,” he says curtly before disconnecting and making another call. “She’s here,” I hear him say, then after a pause, “No, she’s okay.”
He pushes the phone back into his pocket and glowers in my direction. “Do you realize I had my driver searching the streets for you? Do you realize your cousin was worried about you? You preferred to take a walk across the city, at this time, alone, because you saw a picture online. For fuck’s sake, Rachel! Do you know what could have happened? How would I ever fucking forgive myself if anything happened to you?”
His voice is raised, his jaw hard and tight, but he has that sad, haunted look in his eyes, the one I saw last weekend, the night he told me about his mother. Shame descends on me when I realize what I’ve done. She left too, based on something someone told her, something she didn’t wait to confirm.
I cover my face with my hands. “Landon, I didn’t think…”
“No you didn’t.” He looks resigned. “You were too eager to indict me.” He spears me with his eyes, and I see the accusation in the blue depths. “Are we still at this stage, Rachel? Are you still looking for excuses to walk away?”
I don’t reply. His car appears on the street and comes to a stop beside him, Joe behind the wheel.
“You can go up now.” Landon’s voice is emotionless. “I’ll send your things later tonight.”
He turns toward the car, going to open the back door. I know what I’ve done, and the realization of how much I’ve hurt him settles like a weight on my shoulders. If he leaves now… I can’t bear to think that he might never come back.
“Wait,” I say, my voice breaking on the word. “Please, Landon.”
He stops and turns to look at me. My eyes are wet, and I feel as if I’m hurting all over. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move, and I inhale, a tear rolling down my cheek. He mutters a curse, and then he’s walking toward me, holding my body to his with one hand while he wipes the tear from my face.
“You’re going to drive me crazy,” he whispers.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, burying my face in his chest.
He breathes. “Are you sure you won’t go up? Laurie was very worried.”
I shake my head. “No. I want to come with you.”
We don’t say much during the drive back to his place. I can tell he’s deep in thought, and I wish I knew what he was thinking about. I switch my phone back on and see all the texts from Laurie asking where I am, and I respond with an apology and an assurance that I’m all right.
She replies immediately.
What happened?
Long story. I’ll tell you later.
*Confused face*
Then. Landon was out of his mind with worry. You’ll have to try harder to convince me that he doesn’t feel something for you, maybe something as deep as what you feel. Just my opinion.
I look from my screen to Landon’s face; he’s looking out the window, the line of his jaw illuminated by the lights from outside the car. His face is unreadable at the moment. If he feels anything now, I assume it’s probably annoyance, impatience, and disappointment that I didn’t care to think my actions through.
I don’t reply to Laurie’s last text. I don’t know what to say, and I don’t want to give myself any hope. I may not have gone into this clearheaded, but I know I have to be strong enough not to punish myself—or him—for the decision I made to stay with him.
In his apartment, the dinner I ordered is in the kitchen, still warm in the hot plates. Silently, Landon pours me a glass of wine then disappears upstairs. When he returns, he has changed out of his work clothes and is wearing sweats and a t-shirt.
“You should go change,” he tells me. His voice is sober, and he hardly looks at me. “I’ll lay out the food.”
Silently, I do as he says, making my way upstairs to his bedroom, where my bag is still sitting on one of the chairs. In the bathroom, I wash my face, then I go into the dressing room. I’m about to reach for one of his t-shirts when I notice that the other side of the large space, which was empty the last time I came over, now has clothes hanging from the racks, clothes that, from their varied colors, cannot possibly be for a man.
Don’t bring anything, he’d said, and now I realize why. There’re at least two weeks’ worth of clothes for the office, a few casual ensembles, and evening wear. There’s nightwear folded on the shelves, lingerie in the drawers, some simple jewelry, and shoes too—everything I need so I never have to hesitate before coming over.
I sit on the carpeted floor and cover my face with my hands, fighting back tears. All my suspicions and fears now seem so ridiculous. There is no doubt that he wants me in his life, no doubt that I’m important to him, but while he was opening his home and himself to me, I did the one thing I promised him I wouldn’t do: I walked away.
Without waiting to hear his side.
I compose myself and start to look for something to wear. I finally choose a sleeping shorts and tank top ensemble that closely resembles a pair I have at home over the collection of smooth satin nighties. I return downstairs, and Landon is not in the living room. Following the sound of a TV, I find him in an adjacent room that looks like a den and has a huge couch facing a widescreen TV. He has set out dinner on the coffee table, and on the TV screen, a popular period drama is showing.
He looks up when I enter the room, his eyes going over my clothes. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “I thought having a few things here…”
“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “They’re all perfect.”
“I’m glad you like them.” His voice sounds distant, and it makes me ache. “The shoppers came highly recommended, but in case there’s anything else you want, or something you wish to change, I’ll make sure you have their contact details.”
“Okay,” I murmur. There’s a lump in my throat, so much I want to say, but the events of the evening seem to have built a wall of awkwardness between us. I join him on the floor in front of the couch and we eat. At first we’re silent, then we talk about the show, about the actors, the historical accuracy of the story, anything but what we’re really thinking.
When the show is over, I help him take the dishes to the kitchen and stack them in the sink. Then, sitting side by side on the couch, we finish the wine and watch another episode. He doesn’t make any move toward me, and whenever I look in his direction, his eyes are fixed on the screen. I want to reach out to him, to smooth away every sad memory, every fear I’ve evoked with my actions. I hate to see that I’ve hurt him, that I’ve reminded him of the type of emotions that ruined his parents’ lives.
When the credits start to roll on the screen, I reach for his hand, my touch tentative. He turns to look at me, his eyes searching mine, and there’s a stark vulnerability in his features that tugs at my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him again, my voice soft.
His fingers curl around mine, and something in his touch gives me hope that I haven’t ruined something between us irreparably. “You don’t have any reason to be jealous, Rachel. You have to believe me when I tell you that.”
I nod. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say with a sigh. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”
“No matter what happens,” he says, “don’t run. I want this to work, and I want to be sure you want the same thing.”
“I do,” I tell him.
He nods and draws me closer to him. I lay my head on his chest, and one arm comes around me while the other hand strokes my hair. “I was so worried,” he says, his voice low. “When your phone went off…” He sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid in my life.”
I close my eyes. I want to tell him then. I love you Landon, and I was jealous because the thought of you with anyone else makes me feel like I’m dying. But, I’ve become used to holding those words back. I sigh as he keeps stroking my hair, the sensations gently lulling me to sleep.