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“Fuck.” He tilts his head back and rubs his right temple with the tips of his fingers. “I saw Whitney there with some D-list actor. I should have known she would hunt you down.”
“Tell me she was lying. Tell me none of it is true.”
Raising his head, his eyes narrow at me, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. I shift in my seat, suddenly aware of his change in mood. He’s angry now. It’s a subtle shift, but I can practically feel the waves of anger rolling off him.
“My past is none of your business,” he says stiffly, looking away.
None of my business? Is he fucking serious?
I clench my hands into fists, and my cheeks flush with anger. How dare he shut me down and refuse to answer. After everything we’ve shared, I deserve the truth. He owes me that much.
Then it occurs to me—the women. That’s what this is all about. The contract, his need for control. It’s all connected.
“Oh, I get it. Okay,” I say, nodding. “The contract, everything, is all an effort to control something that no one has any power over.”
He turns those beautiful eyes on me. “And what might that be?”
“Human emotion.”
He looks away again, and I can see his jaw clench. He’s not going to confirm or deny my statement. He’s not giving me a fucking inch.
“You can control my body, my orgasms, but you can’t control my heart, Evan.” I look straight into those intense blue eyes. “You can’t control how I feel about you.”
He straightens his shoulders and looks away, shutting me out again. So I do the only thing I can—I tell him how I feel. No games, no politeness. Just the raw, honest truth. “I’m in love with you, Evan.”
He turns to face me, his face drawn in anger. Reaching over, he grabs my chin and holds it between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re special, Madeline. This, what we have, is sex. Two people fucking. Nothing more.”
His words cut me deeper than anything else could have. Pain slices through me, and I pull my chin out of his grasp. “You’re telling me you felt nothing for me in the last few weeks?”
I don’t want to believe that. I want to believe he’s only pushing me away because he’s afraid. That nothing he’s saying is true. But when I look into his eyes, all I see is cold indifference staring back at me. No hint of the passion and tenderness I saw in him last night.
“This is an arrangement. Your body for my money. There’s no room for emotion.”
It feels as though all the air has left my lungs, like I’ve been punched in the gut.
Your body for my money.
He’s making me sound like a prostitute. And that’s exactly why it hurts so much, because he’s right. My feelings for him don’t change the hard facts. I’ve been fucking him for money.
I sit back, suddenly ill. My stomach is churning. I’ve become the thing I hate most. The mistress. The whore.
When the car finally pulls into the Exeter House driveway, I don’t move. I can’t. I just stare out of the window blankly. The pain in my chest is intense, too much.
When I don’t move, Kohl gets out and comes around to open the car door for me. My legs shaking, I stand, gripping the top edge of the door for support. We’re face-to-face now, so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheek.
Had it been any other night, I know he would have kissed me. He would have pulled me out of the car, taken me upstairs and fucked me until we were both too exhausted to move.
But something has shifted between us. I can feel him pulling away, hiding behind the walls he’s put up to keep the world at arm’s length.
You know what? Fuck him. Kohl has ripped me wide open, made me feel things he had no right to make me feel—and then has the nerve to pretend our connection means nothing.
“Stay in the penthouse tonight. Tomorrow morning, I’ll ask Jefferson to take you home, and I’ll have Miriam send over the termination documents.”
I blink, confused. “Termination documents?”
The what-the-fuck look on my face must make my confusion apparent because he says, “This is over, Madeline.”
He sounds so cold and detached. But that’s what this is right? An arrangement. A contracted relationship. Nothing we had was genuine. Nothing between us is real.
