Burn (Breathless 3) - Page 38

Temporarily muting the call, he lowered the receiver and looked questioningly in Eleanor’s direction.

“Sorry, sir, I know you’re busy but Miss Carlysle is here to see you.”

It took him a moment to realize Miss Carlysle was in fact Josie. He straightened, ending the call without hesitation.

“Josie’s here?” he asked sharply. “Send her in immediately.”

Eleanor disappeared and Ash was already on his feet striding toward the door to meet Josie when she came in. Josie hadn’t been to his office before. Hell, he didn’t even remember if he’d told her where he worked.

A moment later, the door pushed open and Josie walked slowly in, her face pale, eyes swollen. Like she’d been fucking crying.

He was in front of her in seconds, pulling her into his arms. She went stiff and rigid and utterly unyielding.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What’s upset you, Josie?”

She pried herself away from him and walked by, toward the middle of his office where she just stood, back turned, her spine stiff.

His gaze narrowed. “Josie?”

When she didn’t respond he reached for her, turning her to face him. What he saw in her face he didn’t like one bit. Dread gripped him by the balls as he took in her lifeless eyes.

Josie always shined. That was just her. She could light up a room just by walking into it. She sparkled, had a gorgeous smile and her eyes were always bright and sunny. Like every other part of her.

But not today. She looked worn. Sad. She looked devastated.

When she pulled away from him again, his lips came together in a tight line.

“Remember what I said, Josie. When you and I are talking and especially if you’re upset about something, we do not discuss it with a room between us. You’re pushing me away, and that is not an option.”

When he would have pulled her to him, she put both arms out, effectively blocking him.

“You don’t get an option,” she said tightly. “We’re over, Ash. I’ve moved my stuff back to my apartment.”

He couldn’t even control his reaction. Of the hundred different things she could have said, he would have never imagined her saying this. What the ever-loving fuck?

“The hell we’re over,” he bit out. “What the fuck is going on, Josie?”

“I saw the paintings,” she said hoarsely. “All of them.”

Fuck.

He blew out his breath and ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “Not the way I wanted you to find out, baby.”

“No, I guess it wasn’t,” she said scornfully. “I don’t imagine you wanted me to find out at all.”

“You’re not moving out and calling it quits just because I didn’t tell you I was the one who bought your paintings.”

“Watch me,” she said in an icy tone that was just not her.

“Baby, you need to calm down and let me explain. We’ll talk this out and then we’ll move on. But I’m not having this goddamn conversation in my fucking office and I’m damn sure not having it with you four feet away from me and you building a fucking wall between us.”

“Calm down?” she demanded. “You lied to me, Ash. You lied. And I’m supposed to discuss and move on?”

“I never lied to you,” he bit out.

“Don’t give me that crap. You did lie and you know it. Moreover you made a gigantic fool out of me. All those times when I was so excited over selling those paintings. You let me talk about it with your friends. You let me feel like I’d done something great. That I was able to support myself. That I had money. Options. A future. God, you really did a number on me, Ash. And every single part of it is and was a lie.”

“Jesus,” he swore. “Josie that is not what I intended at all.”

She held up her hand. “Do you know why I didn’t argue with you about moving in? Why I let you talk me into it so easily? Because I felt like I could. Because I had options. Because I didn’t need you. But I wanted you. I thought I was self-sufficient. Able to be somewhat equal, although I’ll never have all the money you do. But it was important to me to be able to contribute something to our relationship. Even if it was just a sense of self. Me having confidence. I was on top of the world, Ash. Because I felt like for once I had everything. A career. You. Really great friends. And none of it, none of it was real!”

Every single one of her words sliced through him like a knife. Her face had grown even paler, her eyes more stricken. He hadn’t thought about her sense of value, of self-worth. Of her feeling like she had options. Of her not having to depend solely on him, even if that’s what he wanted. But damn it, neither had he ever wanted to hurt her. That wasn’t why he’d done it at all.

“You manipulated every aspect of our relationship,” she said painfully. “You orchestrated every point. Every move was calculated and thought out. You played me like an instrument and I fell right into your lap. I should have known better when you blackmailed me into dinner. Hell, the fact that you had me followed, that you knew about me pawning my mother’s jewelry. But I didn’t pay attention. I didn’t think those were huge warning signs, though it makes me a complete idiot for not recognizing them for what they were. You are so used to being God in your world that you thought nothing of playing God in mine.”

“Josie, stop,” he ordered. “That’s enough. I’m sorry I hurt you. For God’s sake, that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do! We can work this out, baby.”

She was already shaking her head, and fear curled in his belly, spreading to his chest and into his throat, grabbing him, squeezing until he could barely breathe.

“Goddamn it, Josie, I love you.”

She closed her eyes and a tear slipped down her cheek. When she reopened them, both were shiny with moisture and there was such hopelessness reflected that his stomach bottomed out.

“I would have given anything for those words,” she said softly. “I’d even convinced myself that you did love me but just hadn’t said the words yet. You have no idea how much I wanted to hear them from you. But now? How can I even believe you? You’ve proven what lengths you’ll go to in order to manipulate the circumstances so you get your desired outcome. So how can I believe that’s not what you’re doing now, trying to play on my emotions?”

He was speechless. Completely and utterly speechless. He’d never given those words to another damn woman in his life. And she thought he said them to manipulate her emotions?

Anger burned in his veins, sizzling until he was certain he’d lose his grip. He turned to the side, panicked and frustrated because he had no idea what to say, what to do. She was breaking up with him and he’d been planning forever with her.

Her hand shook as she lifted it to the collar she wore around her neck.

“No!” he said hoarsely, turning fully back to her as she unfastened the clasp.

She let it fall into her hand and then she held it out to him, pressing it into his palm.

“I moved everything out of your apartment,” she said in a low voice. “I left the keys on your bar. Good-bye, Ash. You were the best—and worst—thing that ever happened to me.”

He held up his hand, trying to stop her because no way in hell was he going to let her just walk out that door.

“Wait just a goddamn minute, Josie. We’re not finished. No way in fuck I’m giving up that easy. We’re worth fighting for. You’re worth fighting for and I hope to fuck you think I’m worth it no matter how upset you may be right now.”

“Please, Ash. I can’t do this right now,” she begged. Her eyes were filled with tears and more slipped rapidly down her cheeks. “Just let me go. I’m too upset to form a coherent argument and the last thing I want is to say things I’ll regret.”

He closed the short distance between them, pulling her against his chest. He tilted her chin up with his fingers and stared down into her eyes.

“I love you, Josie. That’s a fact. No manipulation. No hidden agenda. I. Love. You. Period.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face to the side. He cupped her cheek and thumbed away one of the silver trails.

“Just tell me why?” she whispered. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it from me?”

He sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe I thought you’d react just like you have and I didn’t want that. I loved the paintings, Josie. It pisses me off that because you found out I bought them you think you have no talent and that no one wants your work. That’s bullshit.”

She tugged herself away from him and presented her back, her shoulders shaking.

“I’m too upset to have this conversation with you, Ash. Please, just let it go.”

“I’m not fucking letting it go when you just told me you moved your shit out of our apartment. You honestly expect me to just say okay, have a nice life? Fuck that. The only nice life I want to have is with you.”

She curled her arms around her waist, hugging herself. “I’m going back to my apartment. My stuff has already been moved. I can’t stay. I promised the movers I’d meet them there.”

Panic clawed at his throat. Helplessness gripped him. She was actually walking away. Over those goddamn paintings. He knew it was more than that. He understood why she was pissed. He’d never looked beyond the fact that he’d bought them to see how it would make her feel once she discovered it was all a lie. He got that. But how the fuck was he supposed to make it up to her, to make her realize how much she had to offer, if she was sleeping in another bed in another part of the city?

She started toward the door, him staring after her, utterly paralyzed, his heart in his stomach.

“Josie, stop. Please.”

At the “please” she stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Look at me, please,” he said softly.

Slowly she turned, her eyes awash with fresh tears. He cursed softly because he never wanted to be the reason for those tears.

“Swear to me you’ll think about it. And us,” he said in a choked voice. “I’ll give you tonight, baby. But if you think I’m going to give up and let you walk away then you don’t know me very well.”

She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll think about it, Ash. That’s all I can promise. I have a lot to sort out in my head. You pulled the rug out from under me. I have to figure out what I’m going to do from here. I knew when I entered this relationship with you that you promised to take care of me, to protect me, to provide for me. And I was okay with that because I didn’t need you to. Can you possibly understand the difference? I didn’t have to be with you. I wanted to be. If I’d had no other choice, no place to live, no money, then how could you ever be certain I wasn’t with you for your money? I never want that between us. It’s important to me to be independent and able to provide for myself even if that’s not what I end up doing. But I want that choice. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and know that I have value. That I can support myself and make my own choices.”

He closed his eyes because so much of what she said made sense. It’s how he’d feel in her situation too. And he’d looked right past that. Never considered how it would make her feel for him to buy the paintings and hide that from her. He fucked up. And now he could lose her because of that fuck-up.

“I get it,” he said hoarsely. “I do, baby. I’ll give you tonight. But I don’t have to fucking like it. And I’m not giving up on us, so prepare yourself for that. No way in hell I’m giving you up.”

She swallowed, her face still pale, her eyes still wounded. Then she turned and walked away, taking his heart and soul with her, leaving him standing there holding the collar she’d taken from around her neck.

Chapter thirty

Josie spent a miserable night tossing and turning before she finally gave up and immersed herself in her painting. For the first time, the vibrant colors didn’t come. There was nothing vivid about the scene she painted. It was dark, gray. There was a sadness to it that seeped onto the canvas without her realizing it was there.

At dawn, her shoulders sagged, stiff and sore from the hours she’d spent on the painting. When she took it in, she winced. It was a clear image of her mood. Miserable.

She nearly splattered paint on it to ruin it but held back, her hands trembling before she finally affixed her trademark J in the lower right-hand corner.

It was honest. It was also very good. It was just different from any of her other work. Perhaps this would be something more along the lines of what others wanted. Maybe people didn’t want bright, cheerful, sexy fun.

As she stared at the painting, the title came to her. Rain in Manhattan. Not particularly original, but it suited her mood, even if it was a perfect spring morning outside. The buildings in her painting were tall and gloomy, outlined by rain and overcast skies. She also realized that the building on the canvas was Ash’s.

Tags: Maya Banks Breathless Erotic
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