Page 101 of Bitter Confessions

Roth had withdrawn and more preoccupied than normal. Was it because of his work project as he claimed, or was the pressure of implementing his revenge on her father’s cronies taking its toll?

Snowflakes rained down as she exited the vehicle. She hustled into 432 Park Avenue, where Johan rode up in the elevator with her. She said a quiet “thank you” as she entered the penthouse. Before the doors closed, she whipped out her cell phone and dialed Roth.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. On the last ring before it went to voice mail, he answered.

“Yes?” His voice was clipped and irritated.

Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Hey, I wanted to tell you what happened with Ariana.”

“Hold on.”

She wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her or someone else, but she waited. There were a multitude of voices. It wasn’t the quiet murmur of a boardroom—it sounded more like a party or celebration. Sound became muffled as he pressed the phone against his shirt or put it in a pocket, and then he was back, without any background noise.

“What happened?”

She gave him a quick rundown of the confrontation and finished with, “Do you think I did the right thing, not involving Rami or Colette?”

Before he could answer, there was a knock and then a female voice.

“A minute,” Roth called, and her heart sank.

“I’m sorry I interrupted. I went by the office. They said you were in Los Angeles.”

“Yes.”

No apology or explanation, just an acknowledgment, as if he were down the street at a restaurant, not a six-hour flight away.

“I wish you’d told me.” She tried to keep her voice light. “I could have accompanied you. It would have been nice to take a break from the cold and go to the beach while you worked.”

“I have to go,” he said abruptly. “I’ll call you back.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear after he’d hung up. She stared at the display until the screen darkened. She hadn’t allowed her imagination to run riot and had given him the benefit of the doubt, but what the fuck was that? The urge to call him back and demand answers warred with her Hennessy conditioning, which insisted business come first. Personal issues could always be handled later.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed frozen in place, but at some point, she registered the absolute quiet. No voices from anyone working in her office, and her phone was blessedly silent.

She made her way to the kitchen to carry on reading her reports, but she couldn’t focus. She dismissed what happened last night, but now it was coming back full force. After he came, he rolled out of bed and said he had to make a call. She’d been taken aback by his abrupt withdrawal, but she squashed the niggle of rejection and fell asleep before he came to bed. When she woke, he was already gone for the day. Or maybe he hadn’t come to bed at all. She’d dismissed the incident, but now she wondered...

Her mind frantically sifted through their interactions over the past two weeks. Everything changed after that wild fuck they had after she joined him at the gym. That day, true to her word, she stayed in bed. Roth called several times to check on her, and when he came home, he was contrite and attentive. The next day was the first time he missed dinner. She’d shrugged it off and eaten the assortment of Italian desserts that had been delivered before turning in for the night. The day after that, he was two hours late. The following, he canceled again, which made her stop the dinner deliveries. Had he deliberately disrupted their routine?

He hadn’t initiated sex, so she had. He was careful with her—frustratingly so. She tried her damndest to tap into his dark side, but he kept it under lock and key. She thought his uncharacteristic reticence was because he was worried about hurting her again, but was it something else? There was no dirty talk, and she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but he was barely making eye contact. He’d acted like he couldn’t get enough, told her he needed her, then went cold again. Had breaking her satisfied his itch and now he wasn’t interested? Had he succeeded in working her out of his system and she hadn’t caught the hint?

She reached for her phone with hands that were shaking so bad she dropped it twice. She paced around the island as she called him back. This time, he didn’t pick up even though she called three times in a row.

Had she been unconsciously filling her schedule because she didn’t want to face the fact their chemistry was already waning? She stared unseeing at the view. A month ago, the possibility that Roth was tiring of her would have had her skipping around the penthouse. Now, she was on the verge of a panic attack because she hadn’t gotten her fill yet, and she...

A tear slipped down her cheek.

When her phone rang, she leaped for it, only to see it was Daiyu calling, not Roth. She resisted the urge to smash her phone to pieces and tried to get a hold of herself. She wasn’t going to lose hope. Not yet. Perhaps he was negotiating the biggest deal of his life. Maybe after this trip, things would go back to normal. She would wait.

Jasmine kept busy. She took a shower and wrapped the gifts she’d stashed in the guest room. She unearthed the clothes she’d bought for Roth in Denmark and noted the size on the tag so someone would benefit from the warm clothes she planned to donate to a shelter.

When that was done, she reorganized the closet and called Johnny, who was thrilled to hear from her. She listened to him talk about his latest string of clients and his friends whom she’d met when she was in Lisbon.

“Have you made up your mind to move to Portugal yet?” Johnny demanded.

She glanced out the windows at the swirling white and said, “Almost.”

“Bebe,” Johnny sighed. “You could be sitting here drinking wine and watching the sunset with us instead of being in that big, lonely city by yourself.” When she didn’t speak, his tone sharpened. “Where’s Roth?”

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