Page 138 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

“It’s not just that,” he said.

“Then what?”

“I think it’s time we both moved on, Sophia.”

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re really breaking up with me?”

He didn’t answer.

But she got it. Finally. And fury seared through her. “It’s because of Rebecca Travers!” she said, spitting out the name. “She got to you, didn’t she? All of her concern over her sister. I should have seen that coming. What a bitch! You know it’s not real, don’t you? She doesn’t care about Megan. She never did!”

“How do you know that?”

“Come on, James. You and Megan were seeing each other on the sly, weren’t you? While you were still ‘going with’ Rebecca?” She glared at him as a cold wind cut across the porch and rattled the branches of a nearby tree, blowing snow over the railing. That stupid strand of hair blew over her eyes again. Angrily, she took off her cap and tucked that irritating lock under her braid.

Damn it all to hell! Didn’t he see? Didn’t he know they were supposed to be together? She wanted to scream at him, but she forced her anger back.

“Don’t do this now,” she advised, returning her hat to her head, her hair now secure. “You’ve been through a lot.” She reached up and touched the still visible claw marks in his beard. “Everything is . . . strange right now. Weird. But it’ll be better.” She forced a tremulous smile. “I can make it better.”

He pushed her gloved hand away, and when she stepped a little closer, intent on passing into the hallway behind him, he shifted, making it impossible for her to enter. Frantic, she spied the dog behind him, staring at her through the small space between James’s waist and the door frame, appearing no more welcoming than his owner.

“James,” she whispered, heartbroken.

“It’s over,” he said firmly.

“No.” Her throat clogged as she shook her head. “I don’t believe it.” That was a lie. She saw by the set of his jaw that he meant business, and she knew from dealing with him how stubborn he could be.

“I think we’ve said enough.”

Oh, God, he wasn’t budging. She bit her lip and felt tears start in her eyes. “Don’t do this. Not now.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t back down. “Good night, Sophia.” He started to close the door. “Go home.”

The door shut in her face, and she heard the click of the dead bolt.

She sagged a bit.

Never before had he been able to resist her.

But then her spine stiffened, and she reached up to start pounding on the door, her fist tight. She would make him see!

You still have the upper hand. He just doesn’t know it yet.

She held her fist back, poised, taking a moment. She had to be careful. She couldn’t ruin this, and she did have an ace up her sleeve. She hadn’t been sure when to play it, but now was definitely not the time.

Stepping off the porch, she flung a dark look over her shoulder, half-expecting James to have changed his mind, but the door stayed firmly shut.

You son of a bitch.

You miserable, two-timing prick!

Her jaw clenched, and she wanted

to pound on the door or, better yet, use her own key and sneak in, find him in bed again, and change his mind with sensual ministrations of her lips and tongue on his body. But not now. She needed to back off. To make him want her. Becoming a hysterical female at this point would only drive him further away.

But the rage that was always simmering in her blood threatened to overtake her. Who was he—so privileged, so entitled—to break it off? He had no idea of her struggles, how she’d had to scrape and climb, how hard her life had been, how loneliness had been her only friend, while he’d grown up knowing in the back of his mind that no matter what, he had a legacy, a fortune waiting for him.

She felt that little telltale tic start near her eye, and she was determined he would never see it, never have a glimpse of the other side of her.

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