Alistair might as well be made of marble, like so many of the statues we saw in Paris this week. A crank behind his eyes is the only thing that moves, rapidly processing the information, his carefree expression reverting back to bitter, like it was when we met on the road, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Well. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Mission accomplished.”
“What?” I shake my head. “No. I gave up on the mission as soon as you brought me home. There was only us. And when you postponed the eviction, I knew…I knew you were going to give my family more time without me having to convince you. Because you’re a good man.”
“Just stop,” he says raggedly, plucking me off his lap and setting me beside him on the seat, leaving me completely bereft. His chest heaves up and down and it burns me alive, knowing I’m hurting him. “You’re a con. An opportunist. This is why I stay away from everyone. This is fucking why. You all turn out to be selfish, self-serving liars eventually. Quite a show you put on, though, Shelby. Bravo.”
“It wasn’t a show,” I sob, a fissure forming in my middle. “I love you.”
My words go in one ear and out the other. “You had every chance to tell me the truth, but you waited until I put a ring on your finger, didn’t you? A free month of rent wasn’t enough, I guess.”
I’ve been struck in the stomach by a fastball. “Stop talking like this. What we have is real, Alistair. I—”
“God,” he pushes through his teeth. “I’m a fucking fool, aren’t I?” He gives me a mean once over. “Amazing what a man will do for hot pussy.”
I slap him across the face on reflex because the splitting of my heart is so intense, so painful, that my hand flies on its own. Alistair goes deadly still, his eyes closing briefly. When they open again, they are teeming with regret. But it’s too late. My heart is shattered into a thousand pieces and all I want to do, all I can think about, is getting as far away from him as possible. This man told me he loved me, asked me to be his wife, and our love has been stripped down to something ugly in a matter of seconds. Our trust is gone.
I’m partially to blame—I know that—which only makes it worse.
The limousine stops at a red light and with a sob lodged in my throat, I turn and throw myself out of the vehicle, hitting the sidewalk running.
“Shelby! Come back.”
Alistair’s strangled roar hangs in the air behind me, but I keep sprinting without looking back. The movie theater up ahead is familiar. This is only a mile from my house, meaning I know the lay of the land better than Alistair.
Disappearing into the scenery while my ex-fiancé shouts my name gets easier and easier as the numbness steals over me.
It’s over.
Chapter 10
Alistair
What in God’s name have I done?
Acid boils in my stomach, pain jabbing the backs of my eyes. The world is lacking in all sound as I turn in several directions, searching for Shelby. There is no sign of her. She has vanished into the landscape, taking all of the color and sound along with her. My breaths are loud in my ears, dizziness rising up and causing me to pitch sideways, thanks to memories of her stricken expression.
What did I do?
Jesus, how could I say those things to her?
She was sent to me as a sacrifice. A virgin offering. It brought her into my life, yes, but she never should have been put in that position. As far as she knew, I was an evil bastard before we met. What if I’d been the kind of man who hurts women? The fact that she was put in potential danger is unacceptable. She’s eighteen, for godsakes. Her family is supposed to protect her, not use her for their own advantage.
And I…I blamed her.
Lashed out in anger and said truly mean things that I didn’t mean in an attempt to disguise my own pain.
Damn me. I called her a liar, an opportunist. I pushed her away.
Now I’m going to pay for it, aren’t I?
I’ve hurt the sweetest, gentlest girl in the world. The girl who loved me and fought to get through to me, even when I was a bitter shell of a human.
No. No, please. I can’t have lost her.
A hole forms in my stomach and grows rapidly larger as I stumble to the limousine and brace my hands on the roof, trying to think. My driver stands a few feet away, calling my name, but his voice sounds like it’s coming from the inside of a tunnel. Freezing cold sweat beads on my face and rolls downward, soaking into my collar. What if she’s in danger? What if I find her, beg her forgiveness, but the hurt I inflicted is too great for her to love me anymore?