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Her eyes finally come to meet mine. "No, but Jessica admitted she lied and all your business partners are coming back. Now that I don't have to worry about my father, all the reasons we had for being together are gone." Something about her suddenly seems very small. More fragile than she's ever been.
And it's not difficult to figure out why, which smooths away the edges of anger creeping in. No one has ever wanted Valerie. Not her parents. Not the man they tried to marry her off to. I can see how she would assume I would be no different. That since she's served her purpose I would be done with her.
She only thinks that because she doesn't understand what her purpose in my life truly is.
Nicholas rushes out from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. His gaze bounces from me to Val then back to me again. "I had the lift locked. She couldn't have left."
Valerie's jaw goes slack, eyes widening.
I tip my head to my mother's butler. "I appreciate that, but it appears my wife is ready to go home, so that’s what we will be doing." I grab Valerie's wrist, pulling her into the lift with me. She drags her suitcase along behind her, and that's fine. Saves me from coming back to get her things.
I remove my other hand from where it’s holding the doors open, offering Nicholas another explanation before they close. "Tell my mother I’ll call her later." I wait until the doors are sealed before slowly turning to where my wife stands. She's not wearing one of those dresses I love so much today, and that’s probably for the best. I'd hate for the guard in the garage to get a glimpse of me on my knees, upper half obscured by the full fabric as I show Valerie exactly how much business remains between us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
VALERIE
FYNN IS DEFINITELY mad. He’s not happy with me at all. I don't like it, but I'm not sure what he was expecting. I all but tricked him into this whole situation, so I figured he would be happy to be rid of it.
And of me.
So, as difficult as it was, I packed all my things up, determined to sneak out when Helena and Nicholas weren’t looking. It wasn't that I was trying to be sly. I'm not sure I could handle having to say goodbye to them. Having to face the fact that they won't be a part of my life.
I open my mouth, intending to offer an explanation, but Fynn holds one hand up between us, cutting me off. "No." He shakes his head. "No talking."
"But—"
"Valerie." He says my name so sharply it makes me jump. "I said, no talking."
I feel a little sick. I've worked so hard my whole life to make others see and appreciate me, and now someone finally has, and I fucked it all up from the very beginning.
I feel like Fynn and I could've had something real, but I'll never know, because I fucked it all up from the start. Now Fynn will go on his merry little way none the worse for wear, and I'm going to have to figure out where to go from here.
Without him.
I don't even notice I'm crying again until the first tear drops from my face, the feel of it falling free sending one hand to swipe at the track of wetness it left across my cheek.
Fynn turns at my movement, his expression falling. He drops his work bag to the floor and comes to stand in front of me, pushing my hands away before wiping my tears. "Don't cry, Darling."
The gentle way he's touching me makes everything worse, and my silent cry turns into a jolting sob. "I can't help it."
One wide palm comes to cradle the back of my head as he pulls me against him, pressing my wet face into the crisp cotton of his pressed shirt. "I know. It's been an eventful day."
I cry harder at the understanding in his voice. At how sweet and loving he’s continuing to be even though our deal is done.
I'm still bawling like a baby when the elevator doors open, and Fynn tucks me under his arm before collecting both our bags, stacking his on mine before rolling them to his car. He shoves them into the trunk, deposits me in the passenger’s seat, and takes his place behind the wheel before pulling out into the sunlight.
Of course he would be kind enough to take me home. The problem is I don't really have a home. I have a tiny little room in my friend's apartment. At least now I can use my bank cards without worrying they’ll lead my father and Warren right to Sweet Side, but even the thought of being able to get a place of my own and a new car doesn't make me feel better.
I don't want a place of my own. I don't give a shit about a new car. The only thing I want is the man sitting beside me and I'm too upset to even enjoy the last few minutes I have with him.
I'm not a crier. I haven't cried like this in years. Not since I realized no one gave a shit about my tears anyway. All they did was upset my parents further, so I learned how to swallow them down.
But right now I can't.
I'm starting to hiccup when we take a turn we shouldn't. I stare out the window as Fynn pulls into his parking garage instead of continuing on to Crystal's apartment. My diaphragm is cramping, making my breaths loud and shuddering, and greatly inhibiting my ability to get words out.
"What —"
