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Not for me. “What are you trying to do?”
“You need to be more specific than that.”
“You made that statue for a reason.”
“I’m an artist—”
“Bullshit.” I walked up to him, like I might push him in the chest. “What’s your endgame?”
He tilted his head slightly to look down at me. “It’s been three months.”
“Wow, you’re good at math.”
He ignored my sarcasm. “If this were a fling, it would be over by now. So that means it’s a clandestine affair—and I don’t want to be a secret anymore.”
“You definitely aren’t a secret with a statue like that.”
“Harlow.” His voice deepened in annoyance. “I know how smart you are. You knew this conversation was coming. You’ve known my feelings for a long time, and if you didn’t, you know now.”
My heart raced like the flapping wings of a frantic bird.
“I don’t want to be a secret anymore.”
“I’m the Princess of Delacroix.”
“So?”
“I can’t just marry anyone—”
“Your father would let you marry anyone you wanted, so that’s a bullshit excuse.”
My eyes shifted away because his stare was too much.
“Harlow.”
I still wouldn’t look at him.
“Come on.”
I took a breath and looked at him again.
“What is it? I’m not good enough for you?”
“Please don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, Harlow?”
“This.” My arms tightened over my chest. “You should have just left it alone.”
Once the truth seeped into his pores, he hardened his stare in a new way.
“It was fun…easy. And now it’s athing. A thing we have to talk about. And I promise you, the more we talk, the worse it’s going to get. So, let’s just…stop.”
He breathed in the silence, his hard expression slowly morphing into one of pain. “All this meant nothing to you?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then it meant something to you.”
