The Tycoon

He’d given me a key to his penthouse, so when I got there at midnight, I let myself in. The place was dark and quiet but the light was on over the stove, which meant he was home, he’d just gone to bed.

The light over the stove thing was for me. So I didn’t trip over things on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water in the middle of the night. I didn’t ask him to, it didn’t even occur to me. He’d just done it on his own.

Stop! I told myself, staring at that light like it was a beacon. You can’t take all these things and build love. It doesn’t work that way. You know that.

“Veronica?” His soft, sleepy voice came from the dark hallway that led back to his room and he stepped out of the shadows wearing a pair of loose pajama bottoms and nothing else. His hair was rumpled and his face…

It’s a lie, I told myself.

He wasn’t happy to see me for me.

“I thought you were staying at the ranch tonight,” he said, stepping toward me like he was going to hug me.

I put my hand up and stepped back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

“I got a letter from my brother,” I said, my voice as cold as I could make it.

If I hadn’t been looking I wouldn’t have seen it. If I’d been distracted for just a second, I would have missed the way his face tautened. Guilt and anger completely revealed. And then, because he was a son of a bitch down to his bone marrow, the moment was gone and it was just his face looking back at me.

Revealing nothing. Nothing at all.

“And?” he asked.

“Don’t—” I breathed and was surprised when fire didn’t come shooting out of my mouth with the words. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. He sent me your letter.”

“I can explain.” He walked toward me, cutting through the living room, and I knew what he was thinking. How he’d wear me down and then maybe touch me, and I’d capitulate because I was weak and wanted to be loved so badly I’d take it from any corner.

Not tonight.

“Don’t get any closer,” I said.

“I did it for you,” he said.

And, honestly, if you’d have told me an hour ago I would be doubled over with laughter I would have called you crazy. But here I was, laughing so hard I was crying. Or maybe I was crying so hard I was laughing.

Very difficult to say.

“He could have come back and ruined everything. We had no guarantees that he would look after you.”

“He’s our brother.”

“And that hasn’t meant shit to him. Ever.”

I flinched, wishing the words weren’t true.

“I did it for you and your sisters. I took care of you the only way I could. My intention has always been to give you the company.”

“What?” I cried.

“It’s true. After the deadline for your brother’s return, I was going to give you the company.”

“And then you were going to marry me? How fucking convenient for you!”

He moved toward me and I stepped away, but he didn’t stop. “When I decided to give you the company you weren’t even speaking to me. I had no way of knowing you’d agree to marriage.”

“Just covering all your bases. I get it, Clayton. It’s why you’re such a good businessman. You’re smart. And you’re thorough and you’re fucking heartless.”

“You’re happy,” he said. “I know you’ve been happy the last month. Because I’ve been happy.”

“No lies!”

“I’m not. I’m not fucking lying,” he snapped. “I told you I would do everything I could to make you happy. To protect you.” And he walked toward me again, but I dodged him, going into the kitchen.

See, the crazy thing was, I could see his reasoning. It all made sense in a manipulative way. I thought of that boy with the dollar bills rolled up in his shoe and I didn’t want to understand his motivations. I didn’t want to feel sympathy for the goddamn devil.

“I asked you to choose me,” I said. “And you couldn’t even do that.”

“I do choose you! I do!”

“I think…you can choose me when it’s easy. When it doesn’t cost you anything. I chose you and it cost me everything. My pride. Who I thought I was. The life I’d created. My sister was right--” Oh, God, I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t. I’d cried too many tears over this guy already. Over the failure of my love to mean anything to him.

“You’re the only thing that’s ever mattered,” he said. “All of this has been for you. I love you, Veronica. I’ve loved you since I was sixteen and I saw you outside your father’s office. I loved you five years ago and I love you now.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Now? You tell me this now? Now, when I can’t possibly believe you? That’s a little desperate, even for you.”