Page 80 of Cruel Offer
Maybe shared heartbreak is what allowed my mother and me to have a really nice Christmas together. She purchased a few gifts for me with money she’d made doing design work, and even wrapped them herself. The little guest cottage was prettily decorated and cozy, and she didn’t bat an eye when I sat on the white sofa with a sparkling grape cocktail. She’s come a long way since my father was imprisoned. It hasn’t been easy on her, and I know her heart hurts for the marriage she longed to have but didn’t. My father gave her a superficial life but nothing more.
Just like Nate is giving me. Everything we do is for show. The way I dress. How his hand cups my lower back for photos. The possessive way he holds my hand when we enter a room. It’s all an illusion and I have no choice but toplay along or he’ll ruin me for good, just like my father did to me and my mother.
The brownstone is quiet when I enter from the apartment. Though we no longer share a bed, I make use of Nate’s house for everything else and come and go between the residences as I please. He’s never put a stop to it, nor has he asked me to move back into his bedroom.
Honestly, after what he said all those weeks ago about ruining me, I’m not sure I’d be able to lie next to him and pretend everything is okay. He hasn’t apologized or explained his behavior, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to bring it up only to have him crush my heart again.
Instead, I play along, riding out the days until my auction in February. It feels so far away, but time passes fast, and soon this nightmare will be over.
One of the worst things about my not-breakup with Nate is that I can’t even cry to my best friend about it. As far as Cleo knows, Nate and I are still going strong, and I have to pretend that everything is fine and dandy so she doesn’t ask questions about why we’re still attending public events together. The whole ugly story would come out, and Cleo would probably hate me for lying to her, not to mention I’d be worried that the truth might get out and ruin my auction before it takes place.
Grabbing a mug from the kitchen cupboard, I duck beneath a string of garland that Nate’s maid hung a bit too low and get a teabag from the drawer. She decorated the rest of the house minimally, with an anemic “contemporary” style tree next to the fireplace holding sparse ornaments on its spindly branches, and a few Scandinavian-lookingwooden knickknacks added to the mantle. It’s nothing like the lavish decor my mother always arranged that made our entire home magazine-worthy. Honestly, it was always too much, but the socialites that came to our place for holiday parties raved about my mother’s decorating. She loved the praise and would be as over the top as needed to get it.
Mom didn’t get praise from my father, so she went elsewhere for it. I wonder if she felt this same deep, aching loneliness like I do? The craving for acceptance, for love, could easily consume me and drive me to extreme lengths, too. But I don’t want other people’s attention. Only Nate’s, and I know I can’t have it.
He walks in just as the teakettle begins to whistle. My traitorous heart jumps as I give him a cursory glance. He’s holding his drycleaning in one hand and his cell phone in the other. His dark hair looks recently cut and his jaw is baby smooth.
“What are you doing?”
The sound of his voice startles me. I expected him to walk past me without a word like he normally does.
My mouth goes dry, and I have to clear my throat before I can speak. “Making tea.”
“We have an event in two hours.”
“I know.”
And I don’t care. I’m tired of being used as his arm candy for photo ops and social media posts. I don’t care anymore that it’s to boost my reputation and my image as well. I’m just…tired.
Turning off the kettle, I pour water into my mug and then look for the jar of honey in the cupboard but it’s not there. Glancing up, I see it’s on the top shelf, and I can’treach it. Standing on my tiptoes, I get a whiff of heady cologne and my muscles turn to mush. Gripping the counter with one hand to keep my balance, I’m surprised to find Nate standing beside me. He reaches up for the honey and hands it to me.
Snatching it and quickly moving a step away, I struggle to open the top because my fingers refuse to work. My entire body is tingling and quickly turning useless.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The deep timbre of his voice rumbles through me.
“Piper.”
I set the jar on the counter as I spin to look at him. The way he said my name…so full of longing and heat. God. My chest aches. Our eyes catch and I swear the world goes still.
“Yes?” I ask breathlessly.
And then he turns away. “Get ready. We’re having drinks before the event. You have an hour.”
The cold indifference is back. I feel it down to my bones as I retreat to the apartment and put together my outfit. Cleo lent me a little black dress that doesn’t excite me, even though it’s couture from a very expensive designer. Nor do I care about the iridescent patent leather Louboutin pumps she lent me to go with it. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I turn side to side and feel a blip of pleasure at my appearance, but then it’s gone. I pull my hair into a sleek updo and finish my makeup with twenty minutes to spare.
Grabbing my clutch from the bedside table, I spy something lying on my bed. It’s a blue velvet box. I must have missed it earlier.
Tingles raze over my scalp as I gingerly grab the box, take a breath, and open it.
“Holy shit.”
A diamond necklace is looped gracefully over a satin-lined mount. The pear-shaped pendant sparkles on the end of a platinum chain. My hands are shaking. It has to be from Nate.
Quickly flipping the box over and scrounging around on the bed for a card, I’m disappointed when I don’t find one. But it has to be from him. No one else has access to the apartment, and honestly, no one else would gift me something so expensive.
