Page 197 of Strange Seduction
Then, without thinking, I dialed my assistant.
“Book Carmen a jet,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Back to New York.”
There was a pause on the other end. “For when?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll send you the details.” I hung up without waiting for a reply.
I stared at the screen for a while, my eyes flicked toward the stairs.
For a moment, just a moment, I imagined going up there. Knocking on the door. Sitting with her and telling her how wrong I got it all. Not just the house, not just the proposal, but everything. How I never should’ve spoken to Marcus. How I should’ve asked her what she wanted before trying to give her the world. How I thought I was building something for us, but in the end, I’d only built a place for her to feel trapped.
I took a step toward the stairs.
Then stopped.
What would I even say? That I was sorry? That I loved her? That it wasn’t supposed to go like this?
She’d heard it all before. Hell, she probably didn’t want to hear anything from me anymore. And maybe—I didn’t deserve to be the one to fix this.
I closed my eyes, jaw tightening as I turned back around. My footsteps echoed too loudly on the marble as I walked to the exit. Her driver would be here in a few hours. I’d be long gone by then.
Let Go or Be Dragged.
Still Day Eighteen.
The house was too quiet when I woke up.
There was no note on the nightstand. No text. No apology was waiting for me, as I had half-hoped. Just the stiff ache in my limbs from a night of restless sleep and a hollowness that hadn’t left since I handed him back the ring.
Still wrapped in the robe I found in the closet last night, I walked down the stairs barefoot.
Theo was gone.
Then I saw it—folded neatly on the kitchen counter beside the ring I placed in his hand a few hours ago. A piece of thick cardstock, his sharp handwriting inked in black:
The driver will be here at noon. He’ll take you back to the hotel. —T.
That was it.
I stared at it for a long time. Long enough for my vision to blur, not with tears—those were gone, wrung out of me the night before—but with exhaustion. My fingers curled around the note, crushing it in my grip.
He left.
Not just the house. He left me.
I shoved the note aside, grabbed my bag, and started packing before I lost my nerve.
The driver didn’t ask questions. Just opened the door, nodded politely, and started the car. I barely remembered the ride back to the hotel. My thoughts swirled too fast, every moment in that damn house replaying with high-definition clarity.
By the time we pulled up to the front entrance, I felt like I’d aged five years.
Once inside the penthouse, I dropped my things and went straight for the window. The view was still as beautiful as ever, the sunlight pouring over the hills, washing the streets in gold, but none of it reached me.
Fuck. I need a drink.
After a much-needed shower, I sat cross-legged on the bed, now in the robe with my phone propped against a pillow and a half-empty glass of ginger tea on the nightstand. My eyes were raw, my curls frizzing in every direction, and the only reason I even had the energy to function was because I’d been drinking since I got here.
The ring was on the desk across the room. Still.
