We’re now inside the empty apartment. Emotionally wrung out, I walk around the spacious area lost in thought, seeing everything and absorbing nothing. In the background, I hear William describing the different features that the place has to offer, but I’m not listening to a word he’s saying. I’m looking at the view of Central Park. And as my eyes adjust to its beauty, all I can see is Ronan smiling at me, talking to me, and laughing with me once more on that fated summer day.
“I’ll take it,” I whisper.
“Excuse me?” William asks.
“I’ll take it,” I say louder, my voice firmer this time. I turn to look at him. “I want this apartment.”
He smiles affably. “Exquisite taste.”
I nod and go back to look at the view, searching for something—someone—who isn’t there.
“Shall I send the paperwork to Mr. Rothschild’s assistant?”
His question reminds me of Lawrence. I bite my lip and stare at my shoes as guilt and shame flare inside of me. “Yeah, I think that works,” I say without meeting his gaze. I’m afraid that I’ll see what he thinks of me reflected in his eyes.
This time, I won’t be able to pretend that I don’t care.
As we’re getting ready to leave, he stops right in front of me, blocking the exit. “One moment.”
“Yes?” I ask coolly, raising an eyebrow.
“I just wanted to give you this,” he says, handing me his business card.
I frown. “Lawrence’s assistant already has your information. She’s handling everything with the purchase.”
He smiles again, that affable smile, but this time it sends a shiver running down my spine. “For the future. When you’re no longer with—”
And then it dawns on me. “Ah. I see what this is.”
“Maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement. An arrangement that a woman like you wouldn’t pass up.”
I shouldn’t be upset. I should be used to this. Lies. Lies. And more lies.
I scan the area around us and notice that we’re standing close to the sleek grey marble kitchen island. I walk to the edge of it and sit on top of the flat surface, spreading my legs open invitingly. Wantonly. Because why not? This is what I am—who I am.
“How about now? Why wait until I’m done with Lawrence?” I reply, surprised to sound so calm. Our gazes locked, I lift a hand and deliberately bring it between my legs, rubbing my pussy through my jeans. “Is this what you want?”
His eyes leave mine briefly to follow the motion of my fingers, flaring with lust, and I realize that I’ve never felt this cheap before. He moves, coming to stand between my legs. This close, I grab his jaw and pull his face toward mine, fooling him into thinking that I’m going to kiss him.
When our lips almost touch, I slightly draw back and look at him in the eye. “Even if Lawrence dumped me, I would never fuck you.” I smile. “I don’t fuck the working class.”
I push him to the side and get off the counter, my feet landing softly on the wooden floors, and leave the apartment behind me. As soon as I’m standing outside, I rush toward the elevator. Pressing the button for my floor repeatedly—urgently—I realize that it isn’t coming anytime soon. Not wanting to spend another minute here, I search for the fire stairwell. I locate the door to my right and sprint in its direction, slamming it open, and running down the stairs as fast as my feet will allow me. The pace frantic, I miss a few steps and fall down on my knees at the foot of the stairs. Stunned inside out, I recline my back against the wall and raise my hands, watching them tremble uncontrollably. The emotions that have threatened to spill over from the moment Ronan dropped me off finally let loose and come crashing down on me, making the room swirl around me.