I’m shattering. No, dissolving. Simply, quietly, like a piece of paper dropped into a lake, as the meaning of his words penetrates my anger. My last. I palm at the thick beaded fabric stretched over my sternum, trying to wiggle another inch of space between the dress’s built-in corset and my collapsing chest. “Faust.” I’ve said his name, and now I have to keep talking. “What are you saying?”
He doesn’t answer. Not out loud. I watch weakly as Faust shakes his head, his mouth bouncing with a repressed grimace.
“Please.”
“I should go.”
“Don’t,” I plead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how you felt. If I did…”
“Would you have stopped?” he asks sharply. “Or would you marry him?”
“Faust.”
“If someone paid you to, would you marry him?”
Tears claw at my lash line, hundreds of little begging cuts. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Is it true?”
I want to say no. I know I wouldn’t want to. That I’d hate every moment. But I can’t quite get the words out, and from the disappointment written all over his face, I know whatever I say won’t make this disaster go away. “Would you be able to live with yourself?” Faust continues breathlessly. “Would it be enough to know, deep down, that you’re acting, pretending to be his wife—even if you’re the only one who knows? If someone paid you enough, would you sell your life?”
“No, okay? I wouldn’t. I don’t want to.”
“Nobody wants to.”
“That isn’t—forget about him.” I furiously wipe away tears. “I didn’t know this is how you felt. But if this is you trying to make me choose between you and my life, then you should’ve talked to me.”
Faust winces. “No, I’m trying to give you both.Youdon’t want you. Don’t you see that? The second something makes you happy, you leave.” His voice is flat, icy, devastating, and I get it. I understand how someone can hate winter. “I thought you needed to see you could trust me, I thought if I paid off your problems, you’d see that you’re the one holding yourself back. It isn’t about your sisters’ school, or your grandma’s restaurant, because you will always find another reason to avoid whatyouwant. You can’t even tell me that you wouldn’t marry him if someone else wanted you to.”
“You…”
Paid off my problems.
My sisters’ school.
I never told him about Grandma’s restaurant.
“How do you know about any of that?” I murmur.
Acid churns in my stomach at how long it takes him to reply. There’s a cold, blank snow falling behind his eyes, and it clicks. Faust talked to my family. He gave them money for tickets. He gave them… more money than that.
I bite my lip, teeth harsh against my skin. I’m starting to get mad again. Really mad, and really embarrassed. “You.” The word comes out like a growl. “How long have you been talking to them behind my back? Is Bernard in on it, too, or just my family? Must’ve been such a blast for you, catching the cat burglar. Or was the game seeing which rich man could get me into bed first, you or Bernard?”
When I push the first hot tear from my cheek, get him better focused with my blurry eyes, I see Faust’s anger stutter. His mouth opening, eyes widening, like he didn’t really think I’d meant what I’d said until I started to cry. “I would never do that with him. You can’t really think that I’d—”
I hold up my hands. “Push me into telling the truth? You knew I was doing it this weekend. You gave them this option. Take the credit.”
“What do you mean?”
No cops. No lawyers. No boyfriends.I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand, tears burning through the last layer of my composure. “You got me. I… I think I was falling in love with you, and I see now that would’ve been a real mistake.”
He inhales, pupils dilating. “Cat.”
Not Arcadia.Cat. My heart breaks, and it’s an avalanche of memories. Falling asleep with him, watching him pop champagne, asking him to stay in F1. Him winning at chess, him finding me out, confronting me at the gala when I was already a mess. Telling me not to lie, while keeping this time bomb from me. Always Bernard’s brother; always someone in another world, who can flex his money over me and my family without thinking through the consequences, and I’d been so stupid to think he was different. He’d patiently unraveled me and my defenses, and I’d fallen for it. He hadn’t even needed to make me any promises about us—he still isn’t. I’d let him walk gently and quietly into my heart, and he broke it from the inside.
Almost professional, this one.
But I’m smarter than this. So, I work up to the one thing no man has ever said to me.
