Perhaps he could stop her, perhaps he could explain, perhaps he could beg her forgiveness. But what would be the point? He would still be the same man.
When she appeared, holding her backpack, he stood rigid, unfeeling, refusing to let her see the emotions churning like acid in his gut.
‘You had no right,’ she said, her cheeks red with tears already shed, her eyes empty, ‘to keep that from me.’
‘Ya think?’ he said, imbuing the words with every ounce of cynicism he had ever felt, ever been taught to feel. By a man who had taken his innocence.
Carmine Da Costa had destroyed that kid, but he couldn’t escape the fact any more he was entirely responsible for the man that broken boy had become.
She left him standing there in the hallway. The swish of the elevator doors closing behind her jolted him out of his trance. He walked into the bedroom in a daze, to see the necklace he had given her. The one he had chosen, like a lovesick fool, lying on the bed. He picked it up, brushed his thumb against the precious stones, still warm from her skin.
And he cursed again, the words broken this time. Just like him.
Damn, had he really believed he could buy her affection? That a lavish gift, lots of mind-blowing sex, could make him worthy of her?
What an ass.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands shaking as he pulled out his cell, and dialled Roman’s private line.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
December 26th, morning
‘HEY,MACGREGOR,YOUneed to vacate the room. Hostel’s closing for the day in ten.’
Ellie jolted awake in the narrow single bed at the sharp rap on the door. She groaned, her whole body aching from too many tears and too little sleep.
‘Okay, thanks,’ she murmured back, her voice as raw as her stomach, which hurt from the roller coaster it had been riding all night—as her emotions veered crazily between panic and confusion, shame and devastation. She attempted to sit up, her brain already rerunning the events of last night in Alex’s penthouse—in painful detail.
All the things he’d told her—about Roman Fraser, the MacGregors, the childhood that had always been a lie—had been bad enough. But so much worse somehow was the cold dismissive look in his eyes, when he’d thrown her love for him back in her face.
She raked shaky hands through her hair.
Why couldn’t she hate him? For using her. For lying to her. Why couldn’t she believe him when he’d told her he’d only ever wanted to sleep with her, that he’d used her, that he didn’t love her? Why couldn’t she turn off her feelings for him? Now she knew the truth.
‘Hey, by the way...’ the voice came back through the door ‘...Jess says there’s some rich dude in Reception asking for you. Says you won’t want to miss him, he’s super-hot.’
Alex? It has to be.
Ellie’s battered heart careered into her throat. And her stomach climbed back aboard the roller coaster.
Had he come to apologise? To explain? And did she even want him to? Hadn’t she been hurt enough? But still her foolish heart refused to stop punching her ribs at the thought of seeing him again.
‘Thanks,’ she shouted back, her voice firmer now and at least a little less broken. ‘Tell Jess to ask him to wait. I’ll be right down.’
After dressing and packing her bag to stick in the hostel’s lockers, Ellie headed downstairs, her heart still thumping her solar plexus. But when she walked into the hostel’s lobby area, having stowed her bag, she knew instantly the man standing at the desk with his back to her—in a black coat that probably cost more than the whole building—wasn’t Alex. This man was tall too, and broad-shouldered, but not quite as tall as Alex and he didn’t have Alex’s wavy hair, his was even darker, and more curly.
Her heart dived into her stomach, the foolish bubble of hope popping like a party balloon. He turned, almost as if he’d sensed her arrival, and she found herself trapped in his dark blue gaze.
He has my eyes.
The thought struck out of left field. Her staggered heartbeat rose back into her throat. Her lungs worked like bellows as she saw the same shock of recognition in his expression.
Her mind cleared enough to identify him from the photos she’d found on the Internet weeks before.
Roman Fraser.His classic good looks, the chiselled cheeks, the dent in his chin, those intense blue eyes with the same imperfection as hers.
He walked towards her as she stood rooted to the spot. Her mind reeled, her pulse accelerating to warp speed.