Contractually Yours: Chapter 38

Fucking Roderick.

We couldn’t have done it without your brothers’ help.

The bastard is so loud, Luce hears it. The light in her eyes dies and the smile goes frozen, then slowly vanishes. A deathly pallor leaches all color from her, and she glances down, then around, like she’s lost in the dark. Her eyes slide right past me, and remain unfocused as she stiffly turns away.

Roderick’s spewing more bullshit. I shove him out of the way. More people stop me to say something, but I ignore them.

“Luce!” I call out.

She doesn’t hear me. Or maybe she does, and doesn’t want to deal with me. She exits the auditorium, her phone clenched in her hand. She doesn’t stop to take her purse. I double back to grab it from her seat and then push my way through the shareholders to go after her, but she’s in her Cullinan already.

Fuck.

I rush to my car and drive home. I have to talk to her. Make her understand.

So many words swirl in my head, but none of them feel adequate. Will anything make an impact?

By the time I pull into the driveway, James is about to get into the Cullinan.

He stops. “There you are. Now I don’t feel so bad about leaving her home alone.”

“What happened?” I ask, panic skittering down my spine.

“She’s not feeling well. You might want to get her something.”

“Where’s Matthias?”

“I believe he has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, but he should be back shortly.”

I nod an acknowledgment and step inside. It’s as silent as a tomb, the air cool. The only sound is the pounding of my heart.

Luce is sitting on an off-white leather bench. Her hands are curled around the edge of the seat and her shoulders are stooped. It’s as though the world has finally crushed her.

But I know better. It wasn’t the world. It was me.

Her face is colorless, but dry. I thought it was the worst when she cried silently, but I was wrong. It’s worse when she can’t even muster tears. The warriorlike mask she puts on to face the world has fractured, the shield and armor gone. A glimpse of unbearable agony flashes between the cracks. It’s like she’s in such pain she can’t even cry.

“Luce,” I say softly.

“Congratulations.”

Her tone is flat and inflectionless. It’s more damning than her screaming. Fear leaves a sharp tang in my drying mouth.

She keeps her gaze on the floor. “You got exactly what you wanted.”

I move so we can talk face to face and crouch in front of her. “I didn’t want this for you.” I reach out and lay my hands over hers. They’re icy. I squeeze, trying to warm them. Cling to hope because she doesn’t pull away.

Something bright flares in her eyes as she looks at me. “Your brothers didn’t vote against me?”

I’d give anything to be able to say no, but I can’t lie. And my hesitation is response enough. The light dims. She removes her hands from mine and lays them in her lap. “I see.”

The pain of having her withdraw slips into my heart like a knife. I had no idea how much it would hurt to be shut out. “In the beginning, I planned this because I was angry with you. But then later, I thought maybe you should step down from your position and learn the business as a junior executive or something because I thought the difficulties you’ve had were due to your lack of experience. A lot of your projects failed because of miscommunication and minor mismanagements.”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me you wanted to kick me out at first. But why didn’t you talk to me about your concerns over my experience later, after we got closer?” she asks quietly, her eyes glassy.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve said something sooner.” I should’ve done everything in my power to ensure I wasn’t the cause of her pain.

Two unbearable heartbeats. “Did you want me to succeed when you listened to my presentation for today and tried to help tweak it?”

“I did—”

“But evening the scales mattered more.”

Her words are like acid pumping in my veins. “I tried to talk to my brothers and stop it, but it was too late. They had already sent in their votes.”

“Okay.”

Her response is entirely too calm. But the suffering I’ve seen is still twirling underneath the surface. I don’t know how to begin to console her when she’s so remote.

I want to ask if there’s a way I can make it up to her. Or if that “okay” was the okay women use when they really want to say, “Go fuck yourself.” But I can’t. I’m terrified she’s going to cut me out of her life.

“I’d like you to leave now,” she says.

“What?”

“This is my home. I don’t want you here.” Her tone says, You understand that, don’t you?

“But we’re married,” I say, desperation surging. “You said you wanted us to look like a real couple. How will it look if I leave?”

“Like we aren’t doing well. But I don’t think we can continue to pretend after what happened today.”

Grief and shattered dreams lurk in her eyes. The glowing confidence and swagger that shielded her lie at her feet in pieces. All her affection for me has turned to ashes, lodged in my throat and choking me.

She isn’t crying because she’s too much in pain. She isn’t crying because she believes she’s truly alone.

“Can I have the ring back?” She tilts her chin at my left hand.

Instinctively, I pull my arm back. It feels too final to give up our wedding band.

Her expression grows even more distant. “Fine. Whatever. Keep it. I don’t know why I’m acting like it ever meant anything.”

“We both need some time to recover, Luce.”

“No, Sebastian. I just need you gone.”

* * *

I couldn’t even argue my case to her. Nothing I said would penetrate. I’ve squandered all my credit. I’m a deadbeat, unwanted garbage in her world.

Although her resolute expression makes it clear she wants me to move out permanently, I don’t take my things. If I leave my stuff, I can drop by later to get it. I can figure out some way to make it up to her.

I go to the Aylster Residence. It’s always been a hotel, but it couldn’t have felt more transient. It’s nicely appointed, but sterile.

It has everything but Luce.

My phone pings. I whip it out, praying it’s my wife—

–Nicholas: I heard about what happened. Are you okay?

I close my eyes for a moment. Of course it isn’t Luce.

–Me: She knows everything.

–Emmett: Define “everything.”

–Me: She knows I wanted to take the company from her, and I asked you to vote against her.

–Grant: Ouch. But didn’t you vote in support of her?

–Me: Of course.

Maybe I should bring that up next time I see her…?

–Noah: I doubt that’s going to matter. Women only remember the results.

Shit. He’s probably right.

–Me: We tried to make the best case we could to the shareholders who came.

–Huxley: But I’m not sure if I can really blame them. She wasn’t the best CEO.

–Me: There was a reason for that.

I text a brief summary of what Bianca did to her.

–Griffin: And you let her live? What’s happened to you?

–Nicholas: Did Lucie let the board and the shareholders know?

–Me: Yes, but not all of them seemed to buy it. Or at least, some seemed to think it wasn’t as serious as it sounded.

–Huxley: Did you sue her?

–Me: Not yet. But her time is coming.

Dealing with her backstabbing friend was the last thing on my mind when Luce was hurting and trying to regroup from Bianca’s betrayal, especially with the shareholders’ meeting to manage.

–Grant: There’s your mistake. Her time should be NOW.

–Huxley: If you don’t sue her, of course people are going to assume it wasn’t that big of a deal. They probably think Lucie is throwing her best friend under the bus to save her own ass.

What…?

–Grant: Just imagine, if somebody did this to you, would you let it go?

–Me: Never.

–Emmett: Exactly.

Ah, shit. I should’ve thought of it from that angle.

–Nicholas: Sue the bitch. She hurt your woman, and she shouldn’t get away with it.

My brothers are right. Bianca needs to be punished—publicly—in order for Luce to have a chance at getting her job back. It may not earn me Luce’s forgiveness, but I’m going to do it anyway. If she’s going to hate me, she can do it while she has what she wants the most.

And I’m going to clean up Peery Diamonds. Get rid of Roderick and everyone who sided with him, so that when Luce comes back, the house is in tiptop shape. A sleazy creep like Roderick will have a lot of dirt. It shouldn’t be that difficult to destroy him and his associates. I text Christoph with instructions.

A couple of hours later, the concierge notifies me that six boxes have been delivered. They’re from Luce. She sent my things back.

My hands shake as the bellhop brings them up. This feels so final. Permanently rejected. Like the wedding band she said she didn’t want back because it didn’t mean anything.

I rip open the boxes, hoping she included something that isn’t mine by mistake, so I can take it back to her. But, box after box, everything’s mine.

Finally I get to the last box and pull out a coat from the bottom. I stare at it for a moment. It’s a winter coat, warm enough for snowy weather. I don’t keep clothes like this in L.A. But it isn’t hers, either. The cut indicates it’s a man’s.

But whose?

Even now, jealousy flares—which is ridiculous. I can’t even look at another man’s coat without feeling like I want to punch something, and I thought I’d be fine taking revenge against her.

What an idiot I’ve been.

I feel through the pockets for a clue as to whom it belongs. My fingers brush something crinkly. I pull out an old receipt and smooth it flat and take a look—

Is that my signature? The date’s from eleven years ago…

This is the credit card slip for a dinner I had in December in Paris. I cast my mind back. The American girl I met there—Miss Hot Chocolate.

The world seems to stop turning for a moment. That was Luce?

She was sad and lost, and I told her to fight. To even the scales. She must’ve taken that advice to heart. And she fought hard and valiantly. Did everything to defend her kingdom.

And then I destroyed all her effort. Left her kingdom in ruins.

No.

Without thinking, I run out of the residence and have the valet bring out my Phantom. When the car stops at the curb, I pause before climbing inside. What am I going to do when I get to her place? Beg her to take me back? Throw my things back inside the house?

I haven’t done anything to earn her forgiveness. She’s never going to trust anything I say after what’s happened.

So many men have failed her. Her grandfather, who didn’t have faith in her because she’s a girl. Her father, who was unfaithful to her mother and undermined her. Fiancés who cheated on her and thought nothing of it. I’m sure they all had something pretty to say to justify what they’ve done. People like that always do.

I don’t want to be the latest in a long string of losers who betrayed her and tried to excuse their behavior with empty words. I have to prove myself, and that requires concrete action. Action that doesn’t include me showing up at her doorstep to make a verbal nuisance of myself.

“Never mind,” I say, tossing the fob back to the valet.

The valet, a tatted-up headbanger with dreadlocks, looks at me. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” I hand him a hundred. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

His face splits into a grin. “Yo, bro, inconvenience me all day long.”

I watch the valet take the Phantom back. Next time I see Luce…

It’ll be after I’ve made myself worthy of her time.