Page 39 of Back in the Texan's Bed
She turned at Ross’s harsh bark, and her throat spasmed, trapping her breath. Seemingly of their own accord, her fingers drifted to her bare neck, where the necklace currently clenched in his fist had rested minutes earlier.
“I—” She couldn’t squeeze anything else past her constricted throat.
God, she’d been so careful. Hadn’t expected him to show up in her room or her closet. But none of her intentions mattered now. Not with that arctic glare pinning her to the spot and his body so taut he practically vibrated with the blast of frigid rage rolling off him.
“Why do you still have this?” he demanded in a low, dark tone that rumbled with...emotion. Not just anger. Something else—something almost raw—threaded through it. And though she couldn’t identify it, she trembled underneath it. “Charlotte,” Ross growled.
She jerked at the sound of her name, dragging her gaze from the dangling pendant and chain to once more meet his stare. And try not to flinch from it.
“It’s mine,” she said. “You gave it to me.”
“I know that, dammit,” he snapped. “I remember everything I ever gave you.Everything. And when you ran away to California, you left it all. I went into the guesthouse afterward. It was empty except for all of the earrings, bracelets, clothes I’d given you. Like they were a message you wanted to make sure I received. That they—like me—meant nothing. Just trash to throw away once you were done with them.”
With me.
He didn’t utter those two words, but they echoed between them as if they’d been shouted at the top of his lungs.
“That’s not true,” she whispered. Leaving those things behind had been a desperate act of self-protection. It had been her survival instinct kicking in. She couldn’t take any reminder of him with her to California. Because they would’ve been torture, constant souvenirs from a time when she’d been at her happiest—when she’d been fatalistically and foolishly in love. She couldn’t keep those pieces of him and make a new life for herself absent of him.
Little had she known that she’d left with the most permanent of reminders inside her.
“Then what is the truth? Did this accidentally make the journey to California?” He chuckled, the serrated edge of it pricking her skin, her heart.
“Actually, yes,” she admitted. “I didn’t know it was in my suitcase until I arrived there.” She clearly remembered that moment when she’d found the jewelry in her carry-on. Remembered how she’d broken down, curled on the bed, clutching it to her chest. How ironic that the pendant was heart-shaped, when hers had been shattered so completely.
“And yet you kept it? Why not pawn it? Believe me, it would’ve brought you a pretty penny. Several hundred thousand of them,” he scoffed, the corner of his mouth pulling into a cruel smile. “Why, Charlotte? For once, give me a straight answer.”
“What are you angry at, Ross?” she asked, forcing herself to face that stare that both froze her blood and heated it. “Why do you care?”
“You left,” he accused in a low roar.
And there it was. The crux of why he would never forgive her. Not for having a baby he’d known nothing about. Not for missing out on two years of his son’s life. No, she’d had the audacity to walk away from him before he could do the honors. To take his favorite toy of the moment away from him when he hadn’t been finished playing.
If her heart hadn’t already been battered, scarred and calcified, it might’ve broken all over again.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, and surprise flickered in his narrowed stare. “I apologize for not remaining in Royal as your dirty secret. Please forgive me for being exhausted with remaining here as someone you hid out of shame.”
She drew her shoulders back and tilted her chin higher, desperately grasping for an aloof mask that concealed the pain throbbing inside her like an open wound.
“You want a straight answer? Okay. You’re right. I could’ve thrown the necklace away or pawned it. God knows the money I could’ve gotten for it would’ve helped. But I didn’t. I kept it because every time I saw it, touched it, I remembered that for almost a year I allowed myself to be involved in an affair that demeaned me. That I lowered my personal standards to become the plaything of a man who deemed me good enough for a fuck but not to escort past the kitchen. Every time I wear that necklace it’s a reminder to myself to never repeat that mistake. A reminder that I’m worth more than being a receptacle for a rich man’s lust.”
The air crackled with their fury, her hurt, her pain. The bitterness of her words lay acrid on her tongue, leaving a grimy residue that no amount of mouthwash—or apologies—could rinse clean.
I didn’t mean it.
The cry screamed inside her like a banshee. It wailed in her head, begging her to say it. But she couldn’t. Because part of her—that lonely, pregnant woman who’d felt betrayed by the man she’d loved—had meant every festering word.
“At least we know where we stand with each other,” Ross finally said into the thick, deafening silence. “Here.” He dropped the necklace on the island, the pendant clacking against the marble top. “I wouldn’t want you to lose it.” Turning on his heel, he strode toward the closet door. And she curled her fingers into her palms, convincing herself she didn’t want to stroke the rigid line of his spine. Or brush a caress over the perfectly cut hair above the collar of his shirt. “Let me know when you’re ready. We can’t be late,” he instructed without glancing back at her.
Then he disappeared through the door, leaving her alone.
Except for the echo of her cruel words.
Twelve
“How’re you enjoying yourself, Charlotte?” Billy Holmes appeared at her elbow, holding two glasses of wine.
Giving Ross’s friend and business partner a smile, she accepted one of the flutes and immediately sipped. Alcoholic fortification was an absolute must to get through this night.
