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Couldn’t he see my love for Blake?
Was keeping face really more important than his own nephew’s happiness?
A harsh laugh, full of cynicism and bitterness, rumbled deep inside his chest. “Miss Wilson,” he said with utter disdain, “I know you’re smarter than that. Love is a fool’s game. I’m sorry for what you went through as a child; I truly am. But I will not stand by and watch you ruin my nephew’s life… for what? Unrealistic dreams of love? A life living somewhere like this?” He glanced around my apartment again. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Miss Wilson. This is life, and it’s hard and ruthless, and Blake does not need a distraction like you.”
Like me?
“I…”
I had nothing.
He wasn’t here to negotiate with me.
He was here to seal the deal: to pay me to walk out of Blake’s life.
Forever.
“You can hate me, Mr. Weston, and you can try your hardest to come between Blake and me. And, who knows, maybe your nephew will see sense and decide a life with a fat wallet and an empty heart is the one for him, but please don’t try to pretend you know anything about me or what I suffered in that place. You know nothing about me. Now, please leave. And take your business proposition with you.”
I walked to the door and opened it, holding onto the handle for support.
He watched me carefully. His face wearing the same expressionless mask it had been during the duration of our conversation, but his eyes looked different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was definitely something there.
Maybe he wasn’t expecting me to put up a fight. Or maybe I’d only confirmed every preconceived notion he had about me before coming here.
Whatever it was slipped away, and his stone mask was back in place. He slammed the case shut and lifted it off the counter. “You’re making a mistake, Miss Wilson. The offer stands for twenty-four hours. I suggest you reconsider.”
With that, he strolled past me and disappeared down the stairs.
I closed the door and slumped down on the floor, the tears I’d fought so hard to contain bursting free as the gravity of what had just happened hit me.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Penny
I couldn’t sleep.
After Anthony Weston had left me, I’d cried on the floor until my eyes stung and my heart hurt.
Once the heating had kicked in, I swapped my server’s uniform for my pajamas and climbed into bed, pulling the comforter over me.
Blake still hadn’t called.
Of course, there were numerous possibilities as to why he hadn’t contacted me yet, given that his uncle now knew about us.
But none of them made me feel any better.
I’d once welcomed solitude, but lying there cold and alone, I hated it.
I hated that with the silence came irrational thoughts about where Blake was, about what he was doing andwhohe was with.
I hated that I felt weak without him there to reassure me it was going to be okay.
But most of all, I hated Anthony Weston for making me believe I wasn’t good enough for his nephew.
A loud rapping on the door startled me, and I clutched the comforter in a panic.
“Penny, it’s me. Pen, babe.” The desperation in Blake’s voice had me scrambling out of bed and hurrying to the door.
