Finding Him (Covet 2)

What were the odds?

“If you ask me if I’m that Julian, the one who was in a coma, I’ll probably set myself on fire to get a head start on my murder. Consider yourself warned.”

I sighed, pulling my laptop to my chest. “I don’t have to ask what I already know.”

He stared ahead into the flames. “Normal people can’t afford this place.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement than anything.

I said nothing and let him keep talking.

“Your boots are Wyn, one of the hardest brands to get ahold of during Fall Fashion Week, you have lip injections, just enough to make your upper look a bit bigger than your lower, your hair’s tinted, not dyed, giving it the appearance that the color is natural when it’s not. Your fingernails aren’t painted but manicured to the point that I doubt you even know what a callus feels like. You smell like Gucci, and I already saw the GG Marmont bag in the corner.”

I gaped up at him.

“You don’t need to tell me your name, princess. I know exactly your type, I’ve been around it all my life, a name changes nothing.” He stood and called over his shoulder, “Good night.”

I felt scolded as I watched him disappear down the hall, and then I felt something I hadn’t felt in a really long time.

Shame.

Like I had something to hide from him, something that made him better than me. How dare he make me feel that way!

He didn’t know me.

I flipped open my laptop, ready to pour out my soul, my frustration, and ended up doing nothing but staring at pictures of Noah and me, and swiping the tears that leaked onto my cheeks.

I was miserable.

Stuck with Julian Tennyson, one of the richest men alive.

And wouldn’t you know, People magazine’s most sought-after bachelor.

And all I wanted to do was march into his room and tell him he was wrong.

But I had no fight left in me.

And I was afraid the minute I opened my mouth up to argue, he’d find a way to weasel in deeper and I’d tell him my truth, I’d tell him my hurt because men like him always wanted everything.

And then he would leave.

And I would have to come face-to-face with the fact that I wasn’t just sad.

I was depressed.

And alone.

Chapter Six

JULIAN

I felt like shit.

The whiskey wasn’t doing anything, and I knew sleep wouldn’t come, but if I had to sit in silence with that woman for five more minutes, I was going to lose my mind.

Damn, but she was hostile.

And I’d barely spoken to her other than trying to get her the hell out of my cabin and into something new.

She looked vaguely familiar, though I still wasn’t sure why. Didn’t every pretty girl look the same?

They were all fake anyway.

At least that’s what I told myself, because if I actually thought about it, I thought about Isobel, and then I started analyzing every little thing I had done wrong, every situation in which I treated her like an object instead of a person. I’d labeled her as fake because even though she tried, I knew she was never happy as she changed herself to measure up to my father’s demands, to mine. I saw her smiles becoming less genuine the longer we were together. It felt easier generalizing all women than looking in the mirror and seeing the guilt in my own eyes.

I punched the pillow and flipped over to my side and shivered. It was freezing in the house, I probably should have set a fire in each of the bedrooms, but I wasn’t thinking past my annoyance at the girl who refused to speak to me.

Everyone spoke to me.

I was powerful in every way that mattered. Women threw themselves at me on a regular basis, especially after my falling-out with Izzy. Getting a woman—any woman—to like me wasn’t usually a chore, the biggest issue was leaving her in the morning while she slept, not that it was my MO to do so. I hadn’t slept around since before the coma, and even then, it had been a giant drunken mistake.

I winced at the memory and shook my head.

I thought if I shared my name with her, she’d be more forthcoming. Instead, it seemed to make her even more irritated.

I’d never had that problem before. If anything, women tended to gain interest the minute they realized how much money I had. I wasn’t sure what to do with one who almost seemed to hold it against me.

Another shiver wracked my body. With a muttered curse, I threw the blankets over to the side of the bed and went in search of more firewood. We’d gathered enough to start a fire in my room and hers; at least she’d see I wasn’t a complete ass.

I slowly made my way into the dark living room, confusion warring with a bit of annoyance that she’d let the fire go out after only an hour, and then a cold breeze picked up. I glanced toward the door.