Asking for Trouble

“Of course not. That’s ridiculous. I never saw it like th—”

“God. Can you even see outside of your privileged bubble? Just because your life is planned and controlled down to the smallest detail, doesn’t mean you can control everyone else with money, too. What you did was purely selfish.”

Brent watched as she absorbed his words. And changed right before his very eyes. In a matter of seconds, she went from the casual, playful girl he’d spent the night with to the cool, ivory-tower-dwelling princess he’d fought with relentlessly for months. Warm, chocolate-brown eyes turned shuttered. Her posture stiffened. Brent wanted to shout at the ceiling as he watched her slip away from him, knowing that whatever they’d found in the darkness last night had just been obliterated. Ironically, instead of defusing the bomb-like situation, he’d allowed it to explode in his face.

Hayden laughed without humor and it sliced through him. “I can’t believe I thought for one second that you could get past the damn money. It’s never going to end, is it? You think I’m a spoiled brat and no matter what I say or do, nothing will change that. Every time we fight, I’m going to be reminded of how very little I know about the real world, about honest work. You’ll do it every time. Well, guess what? I’m already sick of it.” She took a step toward the door. “Count me out.”

Brent followed her. “You went behind my back. Accomplished something in minutes that should’ve taken me years. You really can’t understand why that would f**king bother me?”

“I understand that it bothers you, Brent. I understand,” she returned. “But without giving me a chance to say a word, you went right to your knee-jerk response of crucify the rich girl.”

He shrugged. “If the Italian leather pump fits…”

Fuck. That one finally pushed her too far. He briefly considered hiding underneath the desk to avoid the inevitable explosion, only he wouldn’t fit. Her br**sts rose and fell in her fury, fists curled at her sides. Jesus, she looked gorgeous when she got worked up. “Go ahead and return the money, you moronic ass**le. I’m going to use it to erect a statue in Times Square. A hundred-foot, bronze middle finger pointing toward Queens.”

Brent couldn’t help it. He pushed her further. His anger outweighed his common sense. And his libido crushed them both. Pissed-off Hayden equaled rough, dirty sex and he needed the release. The distraction. The idea of losing himself in her tempted him beyond control. “If you need a reminder of how much you enjoy my middle finger, just ask. You don’t have to go building memorials in its honor.”

She shook her head slowly. “This has all been one huge mistake.”

No. No, that’s not the reaction he’d wanted. He wanted her to throw him on the bed and ride out her temper. But she was already striding back into her room, steps clipped and purposeful. “Where are you going? This isn’t over.”

“It was over before it began.” Brent caught up with her, but she jerked away when he grabbed her arm. Her rejection didn’t deter him. Wouldn’t deter him. Boosting her onto the waist-level dresser, he moved between her thighs and went to kiss her hard. As his mouth descended, her look of undiluted panic confused him and he paused. Words escaped her mouth in a rush. “Yes, I paid the tuition. It was nothing to me. Nothing. I’ll spend that amount on hair product this month alone.” She averted her eyes. “Get off me. When I decided I wanted a kept man, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Hayden used Brent’s shock as an opportunity to grab her overnight bag and dart out of the room.

Chapter Sixteen

Hayden walked slowly down Riverside Drive, grateful to finally be home, but unable to pick up the pace. Her limbs were sore, her brain fried. After sending a quick text to Story, she’d taken a cab from the Borgata to the Atlantic City Bus Terminal and ridden it back to Manhattan alone. Riding in the car with Brent had seemed too daunting in light of what happened. She knew her friend was probably a wicked combination of worried and curious, but she didn’t have the energy to think about the inevitable conversation they had coming.

The two-hour ride would have been a good opportunity to think, if there hadn’t been two teenage girls in front of her discussing cell phone upgrades. Or a man behind her reading every road sign they passed out loud, then translating it into French. She had, however, managed to come to one rock-solid conclusion. Her mother was smarter than she’d given her credit for. Obviously, she’d been paying closer attention than Hayden realized. She’d even handed the ammunition to her mother on a silver platter during their last phone call. Actually, he’s working two jobs because he helps support his brother’s family. Plus, his sister in college. Which is kind of…well, it’s pretty damn amazing.

What better way to ensure her and Brent’s relationship tanked than hitting a man like him right where it hurts? Belittling his hard work. Cutting down his pride. Her mother’s ploy worked like a charm. Brent hated her now. After everything, after she’d opened up to him, exposed herself in his arms, he still thought her presumptuous, thoughtless enough to pay his sister’s college tuition. That he could think her capable of such a move for even a second made her cringe.

She hadn’t denied it. If she could go back and have the confrontation again, she still wouldn’t. What did it matter? His perception of her would never change, and trying to convince him otherwise would be exhausting and pointless. And it hurt. His judgment hurt.

It seemed his loathing of her lifestyle had done nothing to deter his attraction to her, however. He’d nearly taken her one last time on the hotel room dresser. Without question, if he’d kissed her, if she’d let his lips reach hers, she would have let him. Would have had no choice but to cling to him and accept the pleasure. She’d had no other option but to deliver a parting shot that would give her enough time to escape, because her attraction to him hadn’t dimmed either. Not even slightly. The more distance the bus had put between them, she’d slowly recognized the attraction went far beyond their amazing sexual connection. She’d been so sure they’d found some common ground. So positive they were moving past their differences. Then he’d thrown it right back in her face.

Despite it all, despite everything, she missed him already. Still, maybe her mother had done her a favor by paying Lucy Mason’s tuition on the sly and pinning it on her. If one misunderstanding was all it took to bring them back to an enemy state, they’d already been doomed.

Hayden glanced across the street toward her parents’ brownstone and pulled up short when she saw her father standing outside, staring up at the structure. She waited for traffic to pass then crossed the street, her overnight bag growing heavy at her side.

“Dad? Are you locked out or something?”

He turned to her, still appearing lost in thought. His eyes, normally sharp and full of humor, were tired. A little dazed. “Oh hey, sweetheart. No, I’m not locked out.” He gestured limply toward the house. “I just never really take the time to appreciate…what we have. Things, you know. We take them for granted until…” He trailed off.

She studied his face closely, guilt soaring through her. Her father’s company, their family’s livelihood, was at stake and she could think of nothing but her sore heart. Perhaps Brent was right and she was nothing but an overindulged brat. “Dad…I…”