And here it is. Whoever came in that car last night has clearly stayed for breakfast. My muscles tense, and I’m forced to admit my restlessness wasn’t because I haven’t exercised in a while or the nightmare unsettled me. It’s because I kept thinking about this damn car.
Whose is it? The license tag is Virginia, and the first three letters are YME. Why couldn’t it be a vanity plate? Then I’d be able to guess what kind of person owns it.
My instinct is to say Faye Belbin—the woman Lucas took to high-society functions while he was fucking me in my shabby college apartment. I can’t remember if Faye had a Mercedes when she came by a few weeks ago—I was too upset to notice—but she could have. She’s a wealthy woman and knows how to treat herself. A black Mercedes would be perfect—expensive and luxurious, just like her.
Imagining Lucas with Faye, laughing and rolling around in bed, sends jealousy spiking through me. My eyes start to tear, and I slap both cheeks hard to stop myself from crying. What is wrong with me? This just gave me the affirmation I sought—he lied to me when he said he was in love with me. I was smart to rebuff him. The alternate scenario—the one from my nightmare—is too horrifying.
Telling myself I’m fine—because really, I am—I spin around and start running again. I can survive Lucas Round Two. I’ve survived worse.
A couple of blocks away from Darcy and Ray’s home, my lungs are burning and the stitch in my side is too excruciating to keep running. I pause with my hands on my knees. As soon as I can breathe without feeling like I’m going to pass out, I’m going to walk the block and stretch.
The sandstone-colored sidewalk looks orange under the slanting rays of the just-risen sun, and some ants are already busy dismembering the carcass of a beetle. A car slows and stops behind me. The door opens and closes, and apprehension runs a finger along my spine as I straighten up. Charlottesville is a very safe town. But that doesn’t mean it’s totally crime-free. Even a city as safe as Osaka has its share of criminals.
“Ava Huss?”
I turn and face a tall, dark man. He’s dressed in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and black slacks that lie neatly over his long legs. His dark hair is cropped with care, framing his handsome but unsmiling face perfectly. It’s so familiar that I feel like I’ve gone back in time.
I must be hallucinating. There’s no other explanation for me seeing the son of a bitch from the hospital two years ago. “Blake?”
A corner of Blake’s mouth tilts up into an arrogant smirk. “You’re not too terrible looking. I guess I can see the attraction.”
/> I clamp my mouth shut so I don’t blurt out the first thing that pops into my head: who’s sharing Lucas’s bed? It doesn’t matter who. What matters is he’s not alone.
“Are you here to harass me the way you did two years ago?”
He frowns.
I cross my arms and continue before he can get a word in. “Well, you better think twice. Google told me you people are loaded. I’m sure you don’t want to be sued or have your names dragged through the mud. That would make it harder for you to marry in the next few months, wouldn’t it?”
He comes closer, until he’s less than a foot away. I stand my ground, knowing that if I take a step back, I’m conceding to him. I’d rather die than concede anything to this bastard.
He stares into my eyes, and I meet his gaze head-on. His lips twist. “You really are a viper, aren’t you? It amazes me that Lucas doesn’t see that.”
“Don’t you dare call me names. He lied to me.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a self-centered little bitch, you can’t even admit you did anything wrong.”
My hands clench into fists, and it’s all I can do to restrain myself. I would give half my savings to knock that superior expression right off his face. “Me? You have no idea what Lucas did to me. He got me fired from one job, and an offer rescinded for another, all in order to drag me back home. He lied about being in love with me while he had another woman waiting on the side. And it was all about those damn paintings—the paintings that you guys are going to inherit by marrying.”
“Ah.” He cocks an eyebrow. “So that’s why you set him up to fail. Did it make you feel good to see him work his ass off over that stupid pot? I guess you gold diggers have an instinct for nice guys. I sure as hell wouldn’t have done it.” He raises a forefinger. “Before you get all self-righteous, understand one thing. He never—never—needed you. Any of us can get a woman off the street to marry for a few bucks—which, by the way, is exactly what he should’ve done. You’re no better than we are.”
Blood roars in my ears. What gives him the right to talk to me like this? Does he think because he’s Lucas’s brother, he’s exempt from courtesy and minimal decency? “I am better than the lot of you. I would never use and discard people like garbage just because I had more money than them.”
He laughs. “How would you know? You don’t have enough money to treat anybody like garbage, my dear, and you never will. It takes millions before you can. You know why I hate all my father’s wives?”
The sudden change of topic makes my head spin.
“They’re all fucking users. I don’t understand why Lucas picked you—a woman who’s just like any of my father’s tarts du jour. He should’ve just bought you the minute he found you again rather than trying to cater to your sense of…romantic bullshit.”
I laugh in his face. “You’ll never find enough money to ‘buy’ me. I’m nothing like you people or whatever women your father married. If I’m so greedy and unethical, I could’ve just stuck around to squeeze a bunch of money out of Lucas.”
Blake smirks. “Could you? Really?”
“You have no idea.” I’m certain this smug bastard doesn’t know I was pregnant back then. “Asshole.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment and give you a friendly warning. I’m not going to sit around and watch you punish my brother for something he didn’t do.” He finally smiles, but it lacks warmth. “We’ll meet again, Ava Huss. Unlike Lucas, I’m not a particularly nice guy. Unlike him, I don’t fight fair.”
Sweat dampens my palms as he walks away. I told him what Lucas did to bring me back to the States—how he lied to me, manipulated me, stripped me of the means to support myself. But apparently none of that matters to Blake.