Page 78 of Strictly Business

MICHAELA

“WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND, Shortcake?” Finn asks enveloping my left hand. He draws it away from my necklace to his lips. I knew this was coming the moment we walked through the door. Since we left the party, I’ve tried not to seem distant, but it’s not hard to tell something is on my mind. I don’t think I’ve said more than fifteen words. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what Oliver said. Can you blame me? I don’t understand why Finn wouldn’t tell me about the deal with his father. That’s something you tell the person you’re dating, right? “We had a fun, successful night. What’s there to be anxious about, hmm?”

“I’m not anxious.”

“Nice try, Michaela, but your tell is showing.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“You always play with your locket when you’re nervous…it’s your tell.” He pulls me close and pushes a piece of hair behind my ear, “Michaela, we had a good night. A great night. I’m sorry if my parents said or did something. You know how they can be, but I don’t want that to ruin our night. It’s still early, we can—”

“I need a minute,” I interrupt him stepping out of his grasp. I retreat to the bedroom and close the door, but it isn’t enough space between us. I grip the edge of the bathroom sink and take a deep, shaky breath trying to regain my composure. I’m losing it with every passing second. The knot in my stomach has grown ten times since we left the party. I feel nauseous and light-headed and shaky. I’m two seconds from implode because this is all too much. Finally looking up, I meet the eyes of the girl in the mirror. We both know what the right thing to do is, but one of us doesn’t want to, and the other knows we have to. After a long moment, we nod in understanding.

I rip the dress over my head before digging through my drawer and changing into a pair of leggings and my old Rosecliffe sweater. Heels exchanged for a pair of Converse, I pull my hair into a messy bun and open the door to find Finn with his hand raised to knock. He takes in my appearance, “Going somewhere?”

“I’m leaving.”

He chuckles softly. “Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, it’s me.” I push my way out of the bedroom and snatch my purse from the kitchen island. Finn stands with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and I can see the gears turning as he tries to piece together the events leading up to this moment. Trying to understand what’s happening. I take a deep breath and move toward the door. “I have to go.”

“Hold on a second.” Finn grasps my wrist not allowing me to step outside. “Talk to me.” I try to look away from his intense stare, but he pulls me back. “Shortcake, I’m trying to understand. Did I do something? If I did, just tell me, and I—”

“Finn, I can’t do this. I can’t— I can’t pretend like everything is okay when it’s not.”

“Pretend… What are you talking about?” Finn pulls me back inside, closes the door gently, and caresses my cheek with his thumb. I hate that I lean into his touch, but it’s soft and warm and inviting. I want nothing more than to curl up on the couch with him, but I can’t. Not right now, I have too much on my mind, too much to think about.

“I’m so proud of you, Finn.” His eyes narrow in confusion. “And, I know you’re going to do great things, but—” I take a deep breath and recenter myself because I need to do this. I remove his hand from my face, and he looks genuinely hurt. “I don’t want to be a part of this — us — anymore. I told you, I am done being a pawn in people’s game.”

“What do you— This isn’t a game, Shortcake.”

But, it was a game, a competition put on by his father. Win, and he gets to keep the life he’s always known. Lose, and he loses everything. He won the competition with my help, and getting in my pants was a bonus.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Michaela. This is not a game. Now, would you please explain what is going on? I’m a little lost.”

“The fucking bet, Finn!” My voice carries through the condo and the silence that follows fills my stomach with knots.

“What bet are you talking about?” He tugs on the ends of his sandy-brown hair. “You’re not making sense!”

“Your inheritance!” Brown eyes widen. “The sick game you and your dad play. I know about your fucking money, Finn. I know that your dad put you up to all of this… He made you start this company. It wasn’t because you wanted to, it’s because you had to.” Tears burn my vision, but I won’t let them fall. I promised myself ten years ago I wouldn’t let Finnley Sheffield be the cause of any more tears and I intend to keep that promise. “Was that all this was to you?”

“No! No, Michaela. I mean, yes, in the beginning, of course, it was. I didn’t— It didn’t stay that way.”

“So, helping these kids, it doesn’t mean anything to you. It was just a means to an end.”

“These kids mean everything to me.”

“Because they got your inheritance back.”

“Because I care about them. Because I’ve been them! I want to help them. I know what it means to—”

“Save it, Finn. You are exactly who I always thought you were. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. This proves it.” I try to open the door again, but his hand holds it shut.

“Yes, initially, I had to start a business to prove to Oliver that I’m not some screw-up — not completely, anyway. But, it didn’t stay that way. I found something that I’m good at. Something I didn’t think I was capable of before.” He stoops down to eye level and takes my face in his hands. “When I decided to start Sheffield House… Michaela, the money didn’t matter anymore. And this, you and me, was never part of that.”

The tears threaten to spill over staring into his eyes. He looks hurt and sad, but right now, I don’t have it in me to believe him. He lied about the truth of this business, and he lied about why he wanted it so badly. How do I know he’s telling the truth now?

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