Page 104 of Bitter Confessions

She never would have chosen such a bold and unapologetic design. It was too individualistic, unorthodox, and revealing. Anyone who caught a glimpse of this room would know more about her than she’d ever voluntarily divulge. The office didn’t fit with her respectable public persona. This room was a brooding, dark fantasy—the part of herself she went to great lengths to keep hidden. Cazandra had indulged both sides of her personality—the cynic and the romantic—in unforgiving black and shades of pink. If they’d told her the color scheme ahead of time, she would have given it a hard pass. Who knew the colors worked so well together?

She looked up at a floating masterpiece—an intricate flower, made of layers of transparent dark glass hanging upside down. A soft pink light made it look as if the flower were burning from within. It set the tone for the fantastical, moody room, with its plush fuchsia couch, metal accents, and jewel-toned paintings in black frames. It was the little touches like the soft pink back panel of the bookshelf that made her heart sing. The tiny rose arrangements of every shade of pink imaginable tied everything together beautifully.

Her trinkets from Tuxedo Park had magically appeared and were staged with great care. She walked over to the shelf and rearranged glass figurines, a waving Chinese cat, and her snow globes. The mermaid she’d picked up in Copenhagen looked more miserable than ever.

“Same, girl,” she murmured.

Maybe love just wasn’t in the cards for some women. In her case, it could be a generational curse. She ran her fingers over the pink alabaster jewelry box she’d inherited from her mother and opened the lid. Diamonds, precious gemstones, and costume jewelry winked up at her. She surveyed the familiar rings, necklaces, brooches, and bracelets she’d pored over as a little girl. She wished she knew the story behind the signet ring with the letter “J” and what looked like multiple promise rings. She slipped on her favorite one—a heart-shaped ruby with a diamond halo. When she was six, she made the mistake of asking Maximus if he gave the ring to her mother. That was the first time she’d witnessed him lose his temper. She’d learned never to ask questions about Elena, and never wore her mother’s jewelry in his presence.

Her mother had quite the collection for a personal assistant. The more valuable pieces were in the safe at Tuxedo Park. Although her father wouldn’t admit it, she suspected once upon a time, he’d been head over heels for her mother and had bought her whatever her heart desired. After their relationship deteriorated, maybe he turned resentful over what he’d given her and didn’t want to discuss it. She assumed he was responsible for at least a portion of her mother’s jewelry, though there were signs, like the signet ring and other pieces, that Elena had met other suitors along the way. Maybe some of these pieces were from her last lover, whose child she’d been carrying in that fatal car crash.

She untangled the dainty “E” pendant and put it on, along with a diamond anklet, gold bangles, and a panther cocktail ring encrusted in diamonds. She surveyed herself in the mirror, decked out in her mother’s jewelry and her own. Although the jewelry winked and sparkled, it didn’t inspire a smile. Her exhaustion was apparent in her pale, drawn features and lackluster eyes. Was she destined to share her mother’s lonely fate, constantly searching for love and never finding it?

She made her way over to an armchair and took in the view of Brooklyn and the East River. Seeing water reminded her of ships and life beyond this bustling city. In 320 days, she could do whatever her heart desired. She sipped from the delicate china. The coffee was so delicious her eyelids drooped. She soaked in the moment, enjoying the quiet after a hectic week of last-minute Christmas shopping and cramming whatever appointments she could fit in before everyone left the city to travel for the holidays.

She’d met with Heinrich’s wife, Sabine, a sweet woman who was having a hard time adjusting to life in the States. She reached out to Colette for a list of women in society who spoke German and could guide Sabine through her first events. Yesterday, she’d returned to the penthouse to find a gift basket of German chocolates, cheese, tea, and wine, with a heartfelt note of gratitude.

She kept her word to Penelope’s son, Teddy, and sent every flavor of Pop-Tart she could find and included Twinkies for Zach. She’d also sent a gift for little Mariah and the rest of the family. She gave Johnny camera gear that would help him with his work, and a weeklong stay at Sintra Marmòris Palace—a place both he and Aleixo admired but had never had the pleasure of staying. When they’d called to reprimand her for her “too generous” gift, Aleixo exploded when he found out she was the American who’d bought more than two hundred bottles of wine from the vineyard he worked at with his father.

Sarai had found Jasmine an overeager personal assistant, Marisol, who put together gift baskets for everyone from the Davies to her board of advisors. Daiyu called within hours of receiving hers to inquire about the wine and when she was coming in for her fitting. Thankfully, there was a crisis on Daiyu’s end that cut the conversation short, but Jasmine had received several threatening texts since then. Daiyu wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Marisol was as scarily efficient as Sarai and had whittled down a list of more than two hundred charities that met Jasmine’s criteria to a manageable thirty within a day. Her accountant had heart palpitations when she decided to donate ten percent of her inheritance—a whopping thirty million—to one dozen charities. Strangely, offloading a portion of her inheritance made her feel like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The paranoia of worrying about every cent and whether she’d get a return on her investments made her toss and turn at night, but this... This was easy. Knowing the money would be well-used and that she was making a difference in the world made it simple to let go.

Drunk on her Santa Claus high, she’d decided to give Thea a bonus. The last thing she expected was a heated lecture from her normally sweet, soft-spoken housekeeper. Thea said her salary was more than sufficient and rejected the direct deposit. There was no arguing with her. Before Thea ended the call, she inquired if she would be spending Christmas with her sisters. She didn’t want Thea to worry, so she lied and said they hadn’t finalized their plans yet. Despite Lyle and Colette’s urgings, she was holding firm to her decision to keep her distance.

Based on her communication with her sisters, Roth hadn’t delivered his ultimatum yet. When he did, all hell would break loose. She knew Ariana’s updates on her therapy appointments and that she was staying clean didn’t matter to him. Neither did the slew of baby pictures Colette inundated their group chat with. Even if Colette didn’t realize it, she was enjoying her time off and finding joy in a simpler life that didn’t include the stress of running a company. Would her sister return to the grind and ignore Lyle’s desires for more children, or would she bow out of the company and let Roth take it over?

The distant rumble of a man’s voice made her frown. She thought she was imagining things at first, but there was no mistaking the sharp clip of shoes as Roth came down the hall. Her heart picked up speed. What was he doing here?

When he appeared in the open doorway, she turned her head. He was dressed in a buttoned long coat, gloves, and scarf. She held her breath as he gave the room a cursory glance. She doubted this gothic Barbie retreat was what he’d had in mind when he insisted she hire an interior designer. He didn’t look pleased, but that was the expression he’d worn since he returned from Los Angeles.

He’d reverted to the man he vowed he wouldn’t be this time around. He wasn’t cruel. It was worse. He looked right through her. She kept waiting for a break in his icy demeanor, but he wasn’t around long enough to thaw. During the handful of hours they spent in the same bed, they’d lie on opposite sides without exchanging a word. It was the worst form of torture, to be so close to someone you cared about and be so blatantly ignored. They switched roles. Now it was Roth who slept like a baby while she’d lain there in hell. He had no nightmares and no sexual appetite. It was as if she didn’t exist.

It hurt to look at him or be in the same room as him, so she’d kept busy. She’d started visiting the pool with the same regularity that he hit the gym. Her hair was still wet from this morning’s swim.

The only reason she was here instead of running around the city was because, with Christmas just days away, everything had been postponed until the New Year. No one had invited her to gatherings, assuming she’d be spending the holiday with her husband. The husband who was currently eyeing her as if she were an unwanted pet he regretted purchasing. A dangerous fantasy of him drenched in coffee crossed her mind, but she banished the thought before she acted on it.

“We have an engagement tonight,” he announced.

Of course. That was the only reason he’d bother to seek her out.

“What kind of engagement?” She was proud her even tone didn’t betray her emotions.

“The Trentham Ball.”

If her cup were full, it would have sloshed down her front when she jerked to the edge of her seat. “You got an invitation?”

He nodded and switched his gaze to his flashing phone. He frowned, clearly not liking what he saw onscreen. “I’ll pick you up at six,” he said as he turned away.

She set her cup down with a clatter and leaped to her feet. “Wait!”

He paused but didn’t look up from his phone. “What?”

“I can’t go to the Trentham Ball! I don’t have anything to wear!”

“A dress will be delivered,” he said, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“You don’t understand. It can’t be some dress off the rack. If?—”

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