Page 101 of Gilt

“Because my life is so perfect,” I hiss. “You have no idea how hard things have been.”

“Save it, Emma. If I want a dose of reality, I’ll take a look at my own life.”

“Then I suggest you do that soon,” I throw open the door. I rush out of the house past a startled Marion and her new boyfriend slash Josie’s ex. As soon as I’m out the front door, I run directly into Jameson’s chest, but I don’t feel like being comforted by him right now.

“Get off me,” I shove him and hurry down the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?” he demands.

“None of your goddamn business,” I call over my shoulder.

“Emma, wait!”

But I don’t listen. I jump in the car and back out, nearly running him over in the process. From now on no one is going to stop me, no one is going to make choices for me, and no one is going to tell me what to do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The nice thing about Las Vegas is that if you drive fast enough for long enough, you’ll hit the desert. Then you can drive as angrily as you need to.

I don’t bother to look at my odometer when I reach open road. All I know is that the Mercedes has a sports mode, and I’m going to put it through all its paces. I don’t have to check behind me to know that Jameson is following. Maybe he gave Maddox the day off and decided he’d do the job himself. But either my car isn’t as fast as his BMW, or he just knows how to drive his better because, after a few minutes, he pulls alongside me, driving in the wrong direction. He casts a furious glance my way and then cuts ahead of me.

I resist the urge to speed up when his brake lights flicker on. He’s slowing us down, no doubt forcing me to come to a stop, but I’m not going to make this easy on him. Too many things have been handed to Jameson in his life. If he wants me, he’s going to have to fight for me.

Glancing down, I discover that he’s slowed us down to about thirty miles per hour. I’ve just decided to stop fighting him when he races forward and screeches to a halt allowing the back of his car to slide so that he’s blocking the road entirely. I slam on my own brakes and jump out of the car.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Please give me a lecture,” he retorts, “when you’re racing through Las Vegas going a hundred miles per hour!”

At another time, that might have embarrassed me. I don’t want to explain to him how I’m feeling. That I needed to get away from Josie’s house and Belle Mère and this whole mess as quickly as possible. Two days with the car, and I’ve already started treating it like a toy.

“We all have to die sometime,” I say with a shrug.

“You don’t mean that.” I open my mouth to protest this, but he keeps going. “And if you do, then we have bigger problems. What you did was reckless.”

“I know.” I cross my arms over my chest, unable to ignore the wave of guilt that overcomes me. Speed had been a factor in Becca’s death. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to drive. I didn’t want the power of a car in my hands. The second I’d gotten one, I abused it. “I’ll get rid of the car.”

“I’m not talking about the car, Duchess.” His gaze drops to the ground, and he shakes his head, his frustration with me only making me feel worse. “I’m talking about tricking Maddox.”

“That was for your own good,” I informed him.

“Exactly how is putting yourself in danger for my own good?” His blue eyes flash like the tip of a flame, and he lunges forward, grabbing me by the arm. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in?”

“Do you?” I ask him.

“I guess I do since I’m smart enough to realize that if someone pushed you through a window, then you know something.”

“I don’t!” I scream. “This whole thing is a giant mix-up, and I’m tired of trying to keep everything straight. We’re all tangled together like a big bowl of noodles. I can’t tell which lies are mine and which belong to other people anymore.”

“Slow down and start from the beginning. Is there anything you haven’t told me?”

I glower at him, but he may as well know. “I overheard something at your house that night. When I confronted Leighton about it—”

“Wait, what did you overhear?”

I wave off his question. “It’s not important.”

“Like hell, it isn’t!” he growls.