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“I told you—”
“Even if,” he continues, “you buy her a diamond the size of Texas and a wardrobe to match.”
“Wherethe fuckdid that come from?”
“You,” he says. “It came from watching you with her and for years without her. And on a side note, you have an excuse for not telling her about most of this, which is for her safety. You don’t have that excuse with the club. Obviously not now, but if you wait too long, that is going to bite you in your ass, which is already in deep shit.”
He starts walking toward the door, and I don’t move, his warnings radiating through me, as well as his comment about Faith and a ring. I have never considered myself a marrying man, and even if I did, the mountains I have to climb with Faith are many. The club matters. The truth about how I found her matters. Her safety comes first. And right now, I need to make sure that while I’m trying to destroy our enemies, I don’t destroy us in the process.
Feeling the urgency of that need, I start walking, double-stepping the stairs, telling myself Faith trusts me. She told me about her mother’s death, but did that come from a place of trust or guilt? Fuck. I need her to trust me. If she doesn’t now, she damn sure won’t when she hears about the club, let alone how I found her. Reaching the second level, I enter the bedroom, and Faith isn’t in sight. Continuing on to the bathroom, I find her suitcase open on the floor. She’s exiting the closet with her clothes in hand. “I need to go home.” Her announcement proves that the control I seek is not mine.
“We talked about this,” I say. “You’re staying, and we’re going back at the end of the week together.”
“Youtalked about this,” she says. “While I was drinking.”
“The contracts—”
“I can read them on the plane and scan them back to you.”
“I want you to stay, Faith.”
She zips her suitcase and stands up. “I’m going to be honest with you, Nick, because you know: no one in my life has been honest with me, and I really need honest things in my life right now.”
Holy hell. She’s killing me. I take a step toward her. She backs up and holds up a hand. “Stop. When you touch me, I get more confused.”
“Confused,” I repeat. “That’s what my touch makes you feel?”
“I can’t think when you touch me, Nick.”
“And that’s a problem? Because I can promise you that if you can do a mathematical equation while a man is touching you, he’s the wrong man. I’m not the wrong man.”
“You can’t just spend a hundred and twenty thousand dollars on me, Nick. Or more. You want to spend more.” She presses her hand to her forehead. “I appreciate what you’ve done. You are acting like a hero, and I know in my heart that’s your intent.”
“And you don’t want a hero.”
“That’s not it. I mean, no. I don’t, but I’m not going to be foolish and not see that I’m pretty lucky to have one in you right now. But Nick. We decided on possibilities based on who we are together. And I like who we are together so far.”
“But?” I prod.
“Money changes people.”
“I told you. I’ve had money all my life.”
“I’m not talking about you alone.”
“You think it changes us,” I supply.
“Of course it changes us.”
My mind tracks back to the references she’s made to her ex’s fame and stature. “I’m not Macom.”
“I know that,” she says, folding her arms in front of her. “I do. But I’m still being honest. Once he paid all the bills and made a ton of money, I was subservient to him in ways I should never have allowed myself to be.”
“Again. I’m not Macom, but I have money. I won’t apologize for that any more than I will spending it on you.”
“It’s a six-figure bank note, Nick. It’s not a dress.”
“Whatever it is. I don’t spend money on women, Faith. They aren’t around long enough for me to even think about it. But you. You are different, and if there was a dress that cost six figures and you wanted it, I’d damn sure buy it for you. The money is nothing to me.”
