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The dress is baby pink,with lace and frills, like the one I tried on in the bridal boutique. The one Milton liked, hinting attraction toward me for the first time. It resembles something a princess might wear, which is a sick joke considering the man who calls me that intends to dump me. But I get dressed, figuring it might only solidify the reasoning behind him ending it if I don’t. Something I plan on fully rectifying—if I can.
Why try and fix something someone wants? Stinking desperation, that’s what.
As I showered and did my makeup from the new products I found in the bags Lisa brought in, I replayed his conversation with Hilary over the phone. There’s no way he can say all those things to me, fill me with hope, andthinkhe’s getting away with ending it with me.
He comes for me eventually, knocking lightly on the door. Does he wish I don’t answer?
Pulling open the door, there he stands, my handsome betrayer. Because he has betrayed me—deceived me with his empty promises. He’s changed into a black tailored suit with a navy waistcoat and matching tie, enhancing the shape of his body and making me shivery inside despite my newfound hatred.
His eyes move down the length of my own body, but he doesn’t say whatever’s passing through his mind. Not that I expect him to. There’s not much to say to someone you’re getting rid of at the night’s end. He has the gall to offer me his arm, which I refuse by walking past him. Once outside, we get into a car waiting for us, and he drives to wherever Maxim’s place is.
Unlike any other time we’ve driven into Fair Haven, I take nothing in. Not the muted multicolored lights as the city comes alive in the dark. I’m in my head, and he stays silent.
Soon, we drive into another underground lot. I let out a deep breath as I get out of the car. Milton glances at me as we step inside and go over to the elevators, but I can’t meet his stare. Turning away, he presses the button, and the doors roll shut. Being near him has my heart pumping wildly. My palms dampen, and I wish the journey to the top floor would hurry the fuck up, or I might start screaming at him.
This needs to end.
The doors open, revealing a spacious penthouse. It’s almost as cold and empty inside as it is in the club. If it wasn’t for the few expensive pieces of furniture and artwork on the walls, I wouldn’t think anybody lived here.
Something crunches beneath my heel as we walk into the foyer, and when I glance down, I notice bits of rock scattered on the floor. Footsteps sound, and when I look up, Lucius enters the room. “Evening, Mr. Hood. Miss Adams.”
“Lucius,” Milton says, hands tucked in his pockets. There’s a hint of something in his tone. Anger, maybe, though Lucius remains as professionally stoic as ever.
“Mr. Koslov is waiting in the lounge.” He holds out his arm, gesturing in the direction we’re to go.
Following Milton into another spacious room, Maxim’s there, seated with the girl I saw with him before. His “complication,” I’m guessing. Once again, she’s on his lap, and his hand is up the skirt of her lacy black dress. Clearing his throat, Milton leans his shoulder against the door frame. “Areweintruding?”
Maxim removes his hand, and I see blood on his fingertips. He wipes it away on a handkerchief. I swallow hard and divert my gaze. What the fuck?
“You’d know about it if you were,” Maxim replies, grin cunning, despite not taking his eyes off the brown-eyed woman. Finally, he looks away and stands, pushing her to her feet. I swear I see her sway slightly before his arm goes around her. “This is Francesca Marconi. Francesca, this is Heidi Adams—you’ve met Milton already.”
At that, I steal a glance in Milton’s direction. He’s staring at me, and I quickly look away. Turning back to the girl, she glimpses at me briefly but says nothing. And I know how she feels. A part of me is dying to step closer to Milton for the bit of reassurance I’ve started getting used to. But I know I can’t.
“Drinks?” Maxim offers sharply, going over to a wooden cabinet on the other side of the room. Leaning off the door, Milton goes after him, leaving Francesca and me alone.
I glance at her. She’s pretty, in an understated kind of way. Doe eyes and brown hair. The dress she has on complements her slim frame and tallness. She could be a model from Vogue if she wanted—she has that kind of edgy uniqueness they go for. “How long have you been with Maxim?”
At first, she blinks at me, like she wasn’t expecting me to talk to her. I’m sure she’s just as consumed with Maxim as I am with Milton. Even without them here, we seem lost.
“Not long,” she says, her accent familiar, like my own. I wonder where she’s from. “…You and Milton?”
“Same.” She nods. We both fall silent again.
When Milton returns, he stands a bit closer than before and hands me a glass of white wine. My heart skips a beat as I glance at his face. He’s watching me over the rim of the glass as he takes a sip. He’s still clearly mad at me, but I also think he’s wondering why I’m distant. Why I’m not on my knees begging him for forgiveness. I’ve already made a joke of myself. I’m not prepared to make a total mockery.
“Shall we?” Maxim gestures to a different room.
“We’ll be there in a moment.”Stay.
Shivers roll down my back as I watch Maxim and Francesca make their way into the dining room. Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out slowly, waiting for him to say what he really wants. That we’re over. Done. Finished—“You’re returning to Grantham Manor later tonight.”
Pressing my lips firmly together, I look at him, eyes clashing.
“I heard.” I push down the hurt and pain building inside of me, refusing to let him see it. “I’m well aware of what you want, Milton.”
We watch each other for a moment or so. I’ve never wanted to slap and kiss someone at the same time. Never wanted to cry and curse at someone as much as I do him. God, I hate him. Hate him so much for making me feel this way. The embarrassment of letting myself go this deep—this far—is a sham. I’m pathetic.
