Page 54 of The Charmer

Though his dad had posed a valid question.

Today was the first time he’d really looked at his dad in a long time and Cooper didn’t like the changes he’d missed over the last year because he’d done everything to avoid being in the same room as his father. His dad looked older, more fragile than he had in ages, and maybe now wasn’t a great time to spread his wings and leave the Vance nest, particularly as it looked like re-establishing familial bonds would be high on both their priority lists for a while.

Eric held up both hands as if warding him off. “Fine, fine, no harm in trying. By the way, is there something going on between you and the Wallace woman?”

Cooper hesitated a second before answering. “No, why do you ask?”

Not a complete lie, considering Ariel would probably never speak to him again after today.

His dad shrugged. “Just a hunch, by the doomsday expression on your face when I first came in here, and by the tears streaming down her face as she raced out of your office after slamming the door.”

“A difference of opinion,” Cooper said, his heart stuttering at the thought of Ariel crying over what he’d done.

“Looked more like a lover’s tiff than a difference of opinion over a business deal to me.” His dad paused, giving him ample opportunity to deny it, but Cooper merely clamped his lips together. “Then again, what do I know? I’m a stupid old fool and now we both know it.”

His dad rose to his feet, pushed his shirt sleeves higher, and stuck out his hand. “You know I’m proud of you, Son?”

“Thanks, Dad.” He shook hands with his father, filled with hope for their future.

After Eric left the office, Cooper sank into his chair, the relief of reuniting with his father fading as he realised he had to come up with a way to rectify the monumental mistake he’d made with Ariel sooner rather than later.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ariel dabbed her paintbrush in the crimson daub on her palette and slashed across the canvas propped on the easel in front of her.

Red, the colour of anger and fury.

She followed with a dab and slash of ebony.

Black, the colour of darkness and gloom.

Another slash, this time with sunshine yellow.

Yellow, the colour encapsulating that lily-livered, no-good, Cooper Vance, the coward.

She slashed at the canvas with her brush over and over, combining colours in a frightening free-for-all of rage and disappointment. The painting would never see the light of day but it soothed her battered soul nonetheless.

The colours summed up her mood perfectly. She’d never felt as angry, gloomy, or scared as she did right now, the afternoon she would lose her dream. Not to mention renege on a promise to Barb that she’d vowed to keep.

Cooper Vance was evil. He’d used her, schmoozing up to her, acting like a friend, playing on her emotions, initiating her into the best sex she’d ever had in her life, making her love him and all for what? To whip the gallery right out from under her nose anyway.

What Cooper wanted, Cooper got, and she’d been justified in calling him a selfish spoiled brat earlier. She just wished she’d had the guts to say more.

Slumping forward, she rested her forehead against the canvas, not caring about the oil paint imprint. She’d never felt so alone, so defeated…and in the midst of her absolute misery a thought so profound, so awful, pierced her gloom.

What had she thought a few seconds ago? Something about making her love him?

She loved him? Was she out of her mind?

No way. It must be the stress sending her loopy. She’d heard about people going crazy with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Maybe her bout had set in early?

She couldn’t love him.

He was cocky, self-centred, and a heartless businessman. He had insinuated his way into her life and got under her skin before flaying it with cold, calculated precision, all in the name of sealing his precious deal.

The very idea she could love a guy like that was preposterous.

But what if you do?

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