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I pinch the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes. “You want to start with that?”
“I do because it’s true.”
When I open my eyes, I stare into his. “Our relationship was fucked from the start.”
“That’s your opinion. I was interested in you. I just did it wrong.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Can’t you make-fucking-sense?”
“I saw you on the day you interviewed with my company. I’m not good at relationships. You know that.”
“What does one thing have to do with another?”
“Paige, I didn’t know how to approach you.”
“What the fuck are you telling me?”
“There was no loan. The contract was fake.”
Gaping at him, I don’t know what to do, but before I realize it, I am slapping wildly at him, trying to connect with anything in reach. He deceived me for months! He made me believe it was a business arrangement! Foster lets me batter him without defending himself. My tears flow freely, and when I finish, I’m so tired I slump against him, his scent filling my nose.
“How could you?” I whisper.
Foster lifts my face, his expression reflecting the pain in my heart. “I fucked up. I fucked up so badly, and now I’m in hell.”
The second he wraps his arms around me, I sob, my body shaking with my upset. Foster strokes my hair, whispering apologies against the top of my head.
“I hate you,” I mutter over and over.
“You don’t, or you wouldn’t act like this,” he gently counters. “Admit it, Paige, you love me too.”
After I finally have the strength to sit up, Foster fishes a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his navy suit jacket and wipes at my tears. Only then do I realize we’re no longer in the city as signs for LaGuardia Airport pass by.
“Where the fuck are you taking me?” I question heatedly.
“Turks and Caicos.”
My mouth drops open. “I can’t go there. I don’t have my passport or any clothing. You can’t just kidnap me!”
“I want what we had the last time we were there.”
“I hate you, Foster! The bubble broke, and we can’t get it back.”
“I want to try, and I’m not letting you out of this car until you agree.”
I cross my arms. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“I’m driven by love,” he argues.
“Once again, you’ve deceived me.”
“It was with reason! I need you back in my life.”
“I don’t have my passport,” I repeat.
Foster gives me a sheepish look. “I have it.”
I grind my teeth, seething, “You violated my privacy again and broke into my apartment?”
