The look of triumph sparkled in Elsa’s eyes. His hands clenched at his sides. Why did she want to hurt her stepdaughter so badly?
The last thing he was going to let the woman do was stick around so she could gloat. “You’ve done your damage, now crawl back to whatever rock you slithered out from under.”
She smiled at him, making his skin crawl. Elsa stepped up to him. She gave his body a lingering glance. “Aren’t you a feisty one? We could have a good time together.”
“Go.”
Elsa sighed. “Such a pity.” S
he moved on to Sage. “This isn’t over.”
“I didn’t think it was.” Sage lifted her chin. “We are just getting started.”
Elsa let out an evil cackle. “We’ll see about that.” She glanced back at Trey. “As for you, Quentin Thomas Rousseau III, I’m not sure you’re as much of a challenge as your father.”
His gaze sought out Sage. Her eyes reflected the shock and disbelief. He wished he could tell her that Elsa was lying, but he couldn’t. Elsa had done what he should have done long ago.
Sage’s mouth opened but no words came out. Her gaze moved from Elsa to him.
“Oops. There I go again, letting that cat out of the bag.” A toothy grin lit up the woman’s face. “I’m sure you two must have things to discuss.”
Elsa cackled as she swept past them and headed for the bank of elevators. Trey waited until Elsa was out of earshot before he said, “Sage, I can explain.”
It was too late. The damage was done. It was written all over Sage’s beautiful face. The disappointment and distrust reflected in her eyes sliced through his heart.
“I don’t even know what to call you anymore. Quentin? Thomas? Trey?”
Trey stood tall, ready to face what he’d done. “You can call me Trey. It was my nickname in boarding school.”
“Fine. Trey, I have just one question.” Her shiny gaze never wavered from his.
He already knew the question, but he wouldn’t take away her right to ask it. He owed her that much and more.
“Go ahead.” He thought he was ready for her words. He was tough. He was used to facing life alone. And he never thought this relationship, whatever title you wanted to hang on it, would last.
Sage leveled her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Was everything we shared a lie? Were you secretly laughing when I opened up about my past?”
That wasn’t the question he’d been anticipating. He thought she’d want him to confirm that he was indeed Quentin Thomas Rousseau III. But she’d jumped ahead. She was already questioning everything they’d ever shared.
“No. It wasn’t a lie.”
“And the château? Is it yours?”
“Yes.”
“Everything was a lie.”
“No, it wasn’t. Please believe me.”
“I don’t.”
As he looked into her eyes, he could see that he’d already lost her. She’d already closed him off and relegated him to the list of people in her life that had hurt and betrayed her.
The guilt piled on him. He needed to say so much, but before he could figure out where to begin, Sage turned her back on him, and with her chin held high, she walked away.
He’d hurt the kindest, most generous person he’d ever known. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven, but he wanted her forgiveness as much as he needed oxygen.
How did he convince her that these growing feelings were very real indeed—more so than he’d ever thought possible?