His eyes narrowed into tiny, intimidating slits that told me he wasn’t used to the word no. “Impossible.”
“Possible!” I stood my ground. “I have confirmation and everything. I booked this place ahead of time, unlike you! What? Did the owner feel sorry for you and give you a key so you could run away from the media?”
His face paled.
I instantly felt guilty. I knew firsthand what it was like to feel like a big fish while all the sharks circled and waited for blood.
“Sorry.” I swallowed and looked away from his thunderous expression. “That was uncalled for. Let me start over . . . I’m—”
“Don’t care.” He waved me off and walked toward me until he was nearly towering over my small frame. “I don’t care who you are, you need to leave. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, and I’ll pay you back in full if you give me your information.”
“No.” I squinted up at him. “Who the hell do you think you are? I’m not leaving! I booked this place! I need solitude, damn it!” This was not happening!
His scowl deepened. “Exactly.” His grin was taunting, mean, and I didn’t like it. He was beautiful before, but now he just looked cruel. “Solitude does sound nice, that’s why I drove my ass up here. Look, I’ll give you triple what you paid.”
I did the mental math. “Oh, so you’re just going to whip out the trusty old checkbook and give me over a hundred thousand dollars?”
He didn’t even flinch. Who was this guy? “Only a hundred thousand?”
“Huh?”
“Thought they rented it out for more than that these days, around three grand a night seems cheap.”
My jaw dropped. Actually, it was incredibly expensive, but I loved the modern setup and it had a pool and a hot tub and was so close to the water you could throw a rock in it. I tried a new tactic. “Unless I can cash the check now, that’s going to be a no. Why don’t we just call the owner and let them explain since you seem to be having trouble with the concept of ‘already rented out.’” I smiled politely even though on the inside I was seething.
His eyes trained on mine and then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Someone answered immediately. “Yes, I’m going to need a hundred-twenty-thousand-dollar cashier’s check made out to—”
I balled my fists. “Put your phone away!”
“Hold on . . . Your name?”
“Put it away!” I hissed.
He looked genuinely confused.
“I don’t want your money!” I said through gritted teeth. “I want the cabin, all to myself, for thirty days so I can—” I felt the tears then, the tears of sadness, frustration, the tears I refused to shed at the funeral and ever since because it just made it more real and I was afraid if I started I wouldn’t stop. Angry, angry tears. “I don’t need it!”
One fell.
I brushed it away before he could see that he, a perfect stranger, had the ability to make me cry.
“Are you . . . seriously that upset over a cabin?” He laughed at that like I was an idiot. “You know, there’s more to life than pretty things. There’s a big old world out there with hurt and betrayal and humans who like to make others suffer. There’s people dying of cancer, people curing it, people who don’t know where their next fucking meal is coming from, and you’re . . . crying?”
His rage was misdirected.
His fists clenched.
We were at a standstill.
“Don’t pretend to know me,” I whispered hoarsely. “I don’t need your money, and unless you can find me someplace close that looks identical to this one, for the same price, I’m staying. You’re gonna have to find a hotel or something, Mr. Moneybags.”
“Moneybags?” He snorted.
I jerked my head to his suitcase. “Louis Vuitton suitcases, your sweater’s cashmere, your jeans are Dsquared2, shoes Prada, I bet your hair gel costs more than most people’s electric bill, and I’m pretty sure I just smelled a hint of Clive Christian. So yes, Moneybags.”
He took a step toward me, cursed under his breath, and then reached for me just about the same time I held the knife between us and under his chin.
Self-defense and all.
He looked down at the knife, surprise written all over his face. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
“Sure, I just shove it in and twist, right?” I smirked.
“You’re a crazy person!” He didn’t sound afraid, more impressed than anything.
“You’re the crazy one! Showing up at night, demanding I leave when—”
I let out a little scream as the lights completely went out and found myself dropping the knife and grabbing his arm like it was the only thing that was going to keep us safe.
He didn’t pull away.
Just dropped a few more curses that told me he’d rather be anywhere than in the dark with me and my knife-wielding.