Nine Months to Redeem Him
I blinked, squinting in the light. “I just didn’t notice.”
“Didn’t notice?” Edward looked handsome, British and rich, a million miles out of my league in his tailored suit and tie. A warrior tycoon ready to do battle by any means—with his fists, if necessary.
But his eyes looked tired. I suddenly yearned to take him in my arms, to make him feel better. But I doubted my news would do that.
“Edward.” I swallowed. “We need to talk....”
“We’re late,” he said shortly. “I need to change.”
Turning, he raced back up the stairs, his long legs taking the steps three at a time. He seemed in foul temper for a CEO that had just made a billion-dollar deal. In record time, he returned downstairs, wearing a designer tuxedo, and looking more devilishly handsome than any man should look. I felt a sudden ache in my heart. “You look very handsome.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t return the compliment. Instead, his lips twisted down grimly as he held out my long black coat, wrapping it around my shoulders. His voice was cold. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I said, although I’d never felt less ready in my life. We left the house, getting into the backseat of the waiting car.
“How was your audition today?” he asked abruptly as his driver closed the car door.
As the driver pulled the car smoothly from the curb, I looked at Edward, suddenly uneasy. I licked my lips. “It was...surprising, actually.”
“You’re lying,” he said flatly. “You didn’t even go.”
“I did go,” I said indignantly. “I just didn’t stay, because... Wait.” I frowned. “How do you know?”
“The director is a friend of mine. He was going to give you special consideration.” Edward glared at me. “He called me this afternoon to say you never even bothered to show. You lied to me.” He tilted his head. “And this isn’t the first time, is it?”
Lifting my chin, I looked him full in the face. “I haven’t done a single audition since we got here.”
He looked staggered. “Why?”
I tried to shrug, to act like it didn’t matter. “I didn’t feel like it.”
His jaw tightened. “So you’ve lied to me for the last two months. And every morning before I left for work, I wished you good luck... I feel like a fool. Why did you lie?”
As the car wove through the Friday evening traffic on Kensington Road, I saw the Albert Memorial in Kensington Gardens, the ornate monument to Queen Victoria’s young husband whom she’d mourned for forty years after he died. I took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Well, you have.” His jaw went tight as he looked out at the passing lights of the city reflected in the rain. We turned north, toward Mayfair. “I didn’t take you for a liar. Or a coward.”
It was like being stabbed in the heart. I took a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me the director was your friend?”
“I wanted you to think you’d gotten the part on your own.”
“Because you think I can’t?”
He shook his head grimly. “You hadn’t gotten a single role. I thought I could help. I didn’t tell you because...” He set his jaw. “It just feels better to be self-made.”
“How would you know?” I cried.
I regretted the words the instant they were out of my mouth. Hurt pride had made me cruel. But as I opened my mouth to apologize, the car stopped. Our door opened.
Edward gave me a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Time to party.”
He held out his arm stiffly on the sidewalk. I took it, feeling wretched and angry and ashamed all at once. We walked into the party, past a uniformed doorman.