Broken At Love (Whitman University) (14 page)

“Let me check.” The woman stammered, clearly not used to being ignored, and for good reason. She ran a manicured finger down a list. “Six.”

It occurred to me that buying them all would be suspicious. “I’ll take three.”

“Which?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll choose them after the night concludes, unless there’s more interest before then. And I’d like to keep my name private.”

“Fine.”

My eyes found Emilie as she entered the room flanked by her parents, her lovely face hard and miserable. They headed toward the bar, closer to me, so I thanked the girl—Jillian—one more time before making quick arrangements to finalize the transaction before leaving.

It would only end up hurting Emilie to get involved with me. If she knew the truth behind the night we’d met and everything that had transpired since she’d hate me, with good reason, and if there was one thing I knew for certain it was that I had nothing to offer.

Except a good night. A reason to believe in her talent. She would be happy.

A minute later, my father took the podium with me in the background, giving a succinct, prepared speech about the importance of art and culture in our society—which he actually believed, oddly—and everyone raised a glass to Rowland Communications. At his side I felt a part of things. That everything would be as it should if my father found a way to look past the hatred he’d dumped on me for twenty years and realize that the company should stay in the family.

Teddy’s contemptuous gaze said he felt nothing of the sort. “Where did you disappear to earlier?”

“I was buying a few pieces. A good investment, as you know, and also I thought it would look good to support our venture.”

“
My
venture. You just showed up and looked pretty.” His gaze narrowed. “I hope you’re smart enough not to get involved with a girl.”

My father had no use for women outside of sex. They were a hindrance to focus and did nothing but squander his money. I didn’t know what had given him the idea that I was involved with someone, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he’d had someone follow me.

“You must be kidding. What kind of Rowland man allows himself to be distracted by a woman?” That actually earned me a brief smile.

“I’m going to make my apologies and leave. I have a board meeting in the morning regarding the possible expansion into Eastern Europe. Please conduct yourself appropriately in my absence.”

“Of course.” I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “I’d like to talk to you about that expansion, actually. I have some ideas and I’ve been working on a business model.”

The pause seemed to go on forever.

“Have Veronica set something up.”

He was gone before my smallest of victories processed. My father was going to listen to a proposal from me regarding Rowland.

Sweet relief mingled with determination in my blood. Hope, something I never allowed myself, blossomed again, and I hated that where my father was concerned it seemed to never learn its lesson. My gaze unconsciously sought out Emilie’s sleek, dark head.

The idea that she was the one with whom I wanted to share my father’s response shocked me. Muscles bunched in my arms and legs, propelling me from the lobby and back to the room containing her artwork. Away from her.

I needed to choose three pieces and conclude the deal with Jillian so I could get back to my guests at the beach house. Sebastian allowed lines to be crossed that I did not, and leaving him alone for too long was a recipe for disaster. One girl getting roofied and taken advantage of, and I could kiss any chance of changing my father’s mind goodbye.

The invitations were designed to avoid that scenario, but I’d rather not take any chances, especially after tonight.

The first thing that caught my eye was a set of keys on the bench where she’d been sitting earlier. I picked them up, noting the DE keychain before stuffing them in my pocket and planning to hand them over to Jillian. Talking to Emilie again was not at the top of my list of things to do.

I perused the pieces displayed on the walls and easels, deciding quickly on the vaguely sexy summer canvas she’d discarded for something new the last time I was in her loft. In her.

The errant thought drove a shudder through me, but it was nothing compared to the numbed astonishment when my eyes landed on her centerpiece.

Black and blue paint swept together across the huge canvas. The vibrant colors tangled in some places, joined to the point of being indistinguishable, but seemed to repel in others. Red splotches inched toward the center, faintly reminiscent of lips about to come together. The brush strokes were hesitant around the edges but more sure and bolder toward the center, as though as the colors drew nearer they were unable to resist the pull.

It was us. Emilie and me.

And it was stunning.

I sank down onto the bench when my knees refused to hold me up, staring at it for longer than I intended, memorizing each line and marveling at the way it all felt familiar. I’d told Emilie earlier tonight that being an artist meant putting your heart on a canvas and hanging it on a wall for the world to see.

It hadn’t occurred to me that she’d put mine up there, too.

Chapter Fifteen

I didn’t realize that Emilie’s keys were still in my pocket until she sent me a text a few hours later.

Hey. Did you pick up my loft keys by any chance? Can’t find them and no one turned them in at the museum.

Dammit. We weren’t supposed to be talking. I couldn’t ignore her, though, seeing as though I did have her keys.

Yes. Sorry. Meant to leave them with Jillian. I can bring them by.

No. Can you meet Ruby before class Monday at The Grind?

Sure. 9?

K.

It bothered me that she didn’t share her news about selling some of her art. Then again, I didn’t tell her about my father agreeing to listen to my expansion pitch. There was no reason either of us should have, either.

I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore—in a note—less than five hours after having sex with her multiple times and promising to pick her up for dinner. I was lucky she hadn’t burned my house down.

As if he felt my confliction, Sebastian strolled into the bedroom I used when I wasn’t entertaining. “Q.”

“Sebastian.”

“Only two days left before the men’s final. What’s the story?”

“It’s finished.”

His eyebrows went up before he could hide his surprise. “That cost me about two hundred grand,” he snorted.

“You shouldn’t bet against me.”

“Normally, no. I had a feeling about Emilie, though.
Ces’t la vie
, I suppose.” He sat down in a dark blue wingback next to the window. “I suppose I don’t need to ask for proof.”

“That’s never been an issue.”

“No. But usually I get the pleasure of seeing your top seed toppled and running out the front door crying. How do I know you got it?” He crossed his arms. Dampened fury glowed in his muddy gaze and I guessed he probably lost more than a couple hundred grand. “Especially since Pete saw your little pixie out the other night downing tequila like it was her job.”

The tidbit twisted like a knife in the gut, heightening the already uncomfortable situation. I hadn’t wanted to break Emilie, but I wanted her to care. It couldn’t be both ways. I should be glad she had gone out and had a good time.

I shrugged, hoping he hadn’t read me. Knowing he had. “You know girls. She was probably crying in her room and the rest of the swarm decided a night out was just what the doctor ordered.”

“Was that what happened?”

“You have ways of finding out what you need to know, Sebastian. I fucked her on the couch in her studio and afterward she asked me to escort her to the museum opening tonight. I later sent a note declining and telling her I thought it would be best if we didn’t see one another again.”

“Hold on. You sent her a
note
?” The incredulous tone in his voice turned to anger in a split second. “That was not part of the deal.”

My own rage built, begging to break loose, but I checked it. “I fucked her and dumped her, Seb. Emilie believed the same thing they all do—that she could fix me and I would love her. She’s not thrilled, but it’s not my problem if she’s not home crying about it like you wanted. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”

The look on his face said this wasn’t over. I hated to imagine what that meant.

***

Nine o’clock on Monday would have been a lot easier if I hadn’t been wasted since Alexandria won the Australian Open on Saturday.

Her shining smile, faked humble speech, and the mental imagery of her celebrating had added to the anger and dread spilling around me after the conversation with Sebastian. Being incoherent seemed the best way to deal with it, if only for a few days. I deserved a break. I’d won another match of my own and put distance between Emilie and me.

The Grind, which was a ridiculously suggestive name for a coffeehouse, buzzed and thrummed with students anxious for their pre-class caffeine fix. I found a table for two near the front window and hunched over my double espresso. The smell alone eased my pounding head.

Ruby showed up a few minutes late, announcing her presence by smacking me in the back of the head. “Morning, jackass. You look like hell.”

“You have really lovely manners.”

“I learned them from my internet-sensation father and exercise-billionaire mother.”

New money. That explained it. The couth and manners genetically ingrained in generations of my family—passed down along with the real estate holdings, investments, and billions—had barely had time to take root with the Cottons.

Nevertheless, I wouldn’t disparage my upbringing by sinking to her level. “Thank you for meeting me. I didn’t mean to keep her keys.”

She snorted. “Right. If you think you can keep toying with Emilie, you’re wrong. I mean, I’m not saying she didn’t enjoy herself but you’re hardly worth crying over.”

“I quite agree.” My phone rang. Normally I would have let it go to voicemail but the caller ID said it was Veronica, probably calling to set up my appointment. “Give me just a second, Ruby.”

She rolled her eyes and blew on her latte.

“What? Oh. Yes, I did purchase a few things the other night.” I eyed Ruby, hoping fruitlessly that she wasn’t paying attention. “Three of them. Yes. I’m sorry they’re bothering you. I asked Jill—er, the lady—to send them to the beach address. This afternoon is fine. Have Roger pay the bill out of my personal account. Yes.”

I hung up and met Ruby’s wide gaze, rubbing the days old stubble on my face. It itched. “What?”

“Did you buy Emilie’s paintings Friday night?”

“What? Why would you think that?” Dismay ran through my veins like ice water. I didn’t want anyone to know, least of all Emilie.

“Oh my God, you did.” Ruby pressed a hand against her generous red lips, staring at me with puzzlement crinkling her forehead. “Why?”

When had I become so terrible at manipulating women? First Emilie saw through me with that crap about lying to myself and now Ruby had guessed about the paintings based on a cryptic phone conversation.

I took another sip of espresso and sat back in the uncomfortable industrial chair, then admitted defeat. “I liked them.”

She stared at me another minute and then shook her head. “No. I mean, maybe you do, but that’s not all. You like
her
, don’t you.”

I didn’t reply. Anger flashed across Ruby’s classically pretty features.

“Why did you treat her like all of those other girls, then? Or stop seeing her?” Her protectiveness eased into confusion. “She likes you, too, although I’m sure I can’t fathom why. Beyond the obvious.”

She gestured to my entire body and I rolled my eyes in response, trying to deflect with impatient humor. That wouldn’t do, though. Emilie couldn’t know I bought the paintings. Ruby needed to understand that.

“I’m staying away because I do like her, Ruby. And she’s way too good for me. Way better off without me.”

“At least we agree on that.”

“Then you can’t tell her about the paintings. Promise?”

She bit her lip, discord wrestling in her eyes. “Why did you buy them? If you really think it’s best she stay away?”

In a strange way, I wanted to tell Ruby everything. It would be such a relief to have it all off my chest, and she and I both had Emilie’s best interests at heart. “Her father said he’d pull her tuition money since the show hadn’t proven her choice to be a smart one. She was sad. I just wanted her to be happy.”

“Oh, fuck me running. It’s worse than I thought.”

“What?”

“You’ve totally fallen for her. This is bad. You need to stop it.”

Her words thundered through me like a storm, all flashes of lightning and rumbling pain. I hadn’t even admitted the possibility to myself that my attraction to Emilie went beyond the physical or the intrigue of her constant surprises. But it had.

For the first time in my entire stupid life I had done something for someone else.

“I have. Fallen.” I whispered the confession, but she heard it. Her eyes grew impossibly wide until I worried they’d tumble out of her face. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything about it. And you’re not going to say a word, either. Keep telling her she’s better off, the way I’m sure you have been for the past week.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s a first.”

The fact that Ruby had no comeback proved the level of her shock. She took the keys when I pushed them across the table and then stood to go, the last half of her latte forgotten and growing cold. She looked down at me after shouldering her satchel filled with books. The sadness ringing her blue eyes squeezed something in my chest.

“I’m going to trust you when you say it’s better for the two of you not to be together. It’s noble, if that’s what you believe, and it doesn’t jive with my opinion of you. But it’s sad, too, Quinn. And kind of presumptuous. Em’s a big girl. Why can’t you let her make the decision for herself?”