* * *
I have to get away from him. His intensity is too strong, his need too great. He has no one else to consider, no other emotions to fight. For him it is simple, a masculine, caveman need to dominate another man’s property. I see woman. I fuck woman. I own woman.
* * *
I see man. I fuck man. I desire romance.
* * *
The true epitome of romance is Nathan and Cecile. She robbed him blind and disappeared, breaking his heart into a thousand pieces, yet he still loves her—pines for her, will not look at another woman in the same way, his heart completely captivated by a woman who cares nothing about his life. I know. I can see the distance in his eyes, the constant distraction, his inability to see anything other than her absence. He has needs—I’ve felt that need between my legs, felt it sweep through him, his cock fucking me as if I am his last breath, and he is dying without oxygen. But his need only controls his body. She controls his heart.
* * *
I see man. I fuck man. I want man’s love.
* * *
Drew steps forward, pulling something from his back pocket and tossing it onto the bed. A small blue book, a gold seal on the front. “Your passport,” he says shortly. “There is also a card with Candace’s social security number and bank account number, both of which you need to memorize. The jet will depart day after tomorrow, Mrs. Dumont.”
* * *
I pick up the book, flipping it open to stare at my photo, my fingers tracing along my new name. I hear Drew’s exhale, see the look he gives me as he turns and walks out. And I wonder, as the door slides shut behind him, if he will try and come to me tonight.
* * *
I lock the door.
CHAPTER 41
I open the closet, and flip on the light, scanning the shelves until I spy a matching luggage set, three red and black DVF vintage-style trunks. I carry them to the center of the room and open Rosit Fenton's book of outfits.
* * *
I flip through the pages, pausing occasionally and moving back to the closet to pull hangers. With each new item, laid out in neat stacks on the bed, I am reminded of how lucky I am. My fingers pluck through designers I’ve only dreamed of. Oscar de la Renta. Versace. Chanel. I scoop up a pair of Louboutin heels, and some Tory Burch flats. I place the items carefully in the trunks, then move to the bathroom, which has MAC’s entire lineup, paired with every beauty item possible. Can I leave this life? Suddenly all of my complaints seem so trivial. My husband is taking me to the Bahamas for a week in our private plane. I let my eyes drift over the expensive details of the bathroom, the view of the sparkling pool and beautiful home. This is my life. I’d be foolish to leave.
* * *
I step to my desk, where my notepad sits, the page blank. I’ve tried a dozen times to do as Nathan asked, and write down my demands, to spell out what it would take for me to stay in this life.
* * *
I know what I really want. To sleep in bed at night next to Nathan. To have the Nathan who comes out when the cameras are on us—his loving smile, soft hands, mischievous grin and playful stories. I want to spend my evenings with him, side by side on the couch, my head in his lap, his hands in my hair, quiet moments that we both would treasure.
* * *
But I can’t put those demands down on paper. I can’t show my cards, especially not when it’s a losing hand. The worst-case scenario is for him to give me all of that, while his heart is still Cecile’s. My heart wouldn’t be able to resist, would fall down a long dark hole that it would never be able to climb out of.
CHAPTER 42
“Ready?” Nathan settles in across from me, pulling the seat belt across his lap. I nod, and he calls out to the pilot, stretching his long legs forward as he settles in.
* * *
“I am. Thanks for pushing back the flight.” Originally, we’d planned to leave this morning, but I’d had a sudden and frantic desire to see my father. I’d sped the entire drive to Crestridge, and had gotten in a full two hours with him before he was sleeping and I was headed back to the house. Now, we’re flying to Fort Lauderdale, where we’ll have lunch and fuel up, then continue on to Nassau.
* * *
“No problem. It gave me some time to knock out some work items. I needed to scout out a lot anyway. It’s a hotel site downtown. Next week, if you are up for it, I’d love to get your take on it.” He speaks so freely now, his cold demeanor warmed to an impressive 98.6 degrees. Human.