I almost feel normal.
After a full day of binge-watching, Remy convinces me to leave the house. We get dinner at our favorite Thai restaurant.
I stuff my face with red curry and jasmine rice. Arrive home full, worn, ready for bed.
To a sealed letter and a bouquet of roses at our door.
Of course.
"New secret admirer?" Remy picks up the bouquet. After he opens the door for me, he sets them on the dining table and runs his fingers over the card. "It's addressed to Danielle Bellamy, but if she's not going to open it…"
"Will you not?"
"No. I will not, uh, not. I will." He holds up the card. "You've moped for two days."
"Why can't I mope for once?"
"Mope all you want, Danny. But read the card from the sexy billionaire, huh?"
"But he—"
"He hurt you, yes. Was it unforgivable?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe means no."
"Sometimes it means yes."
"Usually no," he says. "The guy who hides at his mansion let you take pictures of him naked."
"He isn't naked—"
"Whatever. He's fucking you. They're sexy. That's a big deal."
It is.
"Maybe he had an ulterior motive, but he did trust you."
Maybe.
"And he cares about you."
"Are you seriously taking his side?"
"I haven't seen you this bright since Mom died. Even before that… he made you happy. And I'm on the side of happy Danny. If that's his side, then yes, I'm on his side."
Ugh. Why is he using reason?
That's so annoying.
"Fine." I take the card. Break the red seal. Pull out a stack of papers.
A folded note.
And our contract for the year.
Voided.
He has the option to void it at any time, so long as he pays me in full.
"What is it?" Remy asks.
I don't answer. I unfold the note.
Dear Danielle,
I'm sorry I wasn't forthright with you. I should have been honest from the start.
I did hire you because Fitzgerald wanted you. I wanted him to suffer the way I did.
It was a foolish plan. Deep down, I knew that. Deep down, I knew it was an excuse. A way to give myself permission to find you.
I wanted you the second I saw you.
That was true. Not the full truth—my PI is the one who sent me your photos—but most of it.
Your pictures consumed me.
I wanted to touch you, taste you, fuck you.
Because you're an artist.
And because you're gorgeous.
I've never lied about my feelings for you. Or the way you've changed me.
You did convince me to push aside my self-loathing and give in to desire.
Deep down, I knew that.
Deep down, I sought you out because I wanted to fuck you.
At first that was it. I did like you, but, more, I wanted you.
The more I had you, the more I fell for you.
I did.
That's the truth. All of it, completely unadorned.
I love you, Danielle.
I should have told you.
I should have told you everything.
I'm sorry.
I understand if you never want to see me again, but I hope you'll give me another chance.
Even if I don't deserve it.
I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this up to you.
I'm staying at the apartment for the next few weeks. Come by anytime.
Please, even if it's to throw this note in my face, I want to see you.
Love,
Adam
"It's good," Remy says. "I can tell it's good."
"No." Maybe.
"What does it say?"
"Personal things."
"He apologized?"
"Yes," I admit.
"And…"
"And what?"
"There's an and on your face…"
"He loves me."
Remy's eyes go wide. "Do you love him?"
"I do." It fills the space. A bright light I can't ignore. I love Adam.
"Then what are you doing here! Go get him! What could be more important than that, Danny?"
Chapter Forty-Five
Adam
A knock on the door rouses my attention.
The jingle of keys.
Footsteps.
"Adam?" A soft voice calls. "Are you here?"
I step out of the office. Through the hallway. To the main room.
To Danielle, standing in front of the door in a short black dress and tall boots, the card I left in her hands.
The seal is broken.
She read it.
She might be here to tell me to fuck off, but she did read it.
"Hey, uh." She runs her fingers over the card. "The transfer went through. I'm not sure if you checked. But it's all there. I'm a millionaire."
"How does it feel?"
"Weird." Her eyes meet mine. "And the photos sold. Not to anyone in the Pierce family, I checked. We're going to be on someone's wall."
"Bedroom wall, maybe."
She half-smiles. "Probably. Do you think they're in it for the art or the eroticism?"
"Isn't that the point?"
"That is what I said."
It is.
"And with what they paid… There are plenty of free pictures of naked people out there. And I… uh, I did mean what I said at the gallery, about the trust. I just—"
"I'm sorry. I know there's nothing I can say to make it right, but I want you to know I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"I should have been honest."
"I wouldn't have said yes."
"Even so." My eyes meet hers. "It wasn't right to use you."