Page 17 of Recollection

I can’t believe I said that. I’m never so openly raw and emotional. Certainly not with a man as unknowable as Arthur.

Afraid I made a fool of myself and still shaking with anger, I stride out of the room.

Arthur doesn’t stop me. For no good reason and completely irrationally, that fact is the most upsetting of all.

***

IGO TO MY ROOM. IT’Smy only private space in this entire estate. It’s a beautiful, luxurious suite. It’s decorated exactly to my taste in a mix of pretty antiques, soft fabrics, a rose-and-taupe palette, and contemporary conveniences like remote-powered blinds and multiple spray functions in the large shower.

If I were on vacation, I couldn’t have asked for more, but I’ve been too sad and distracted to enjoy it this month. I flop down onto the bed, staring up at the ornate molding on the ceiling and scowling as I picture Arthur’s face.

It feels like I revealed too much. That’s something I never do. It makes me feel naked. Vulnerable. Like Arthur now knows and sees far deeper into my soul than he has any right.

And he didn’t even do it in a genuine attempt to get to know me. He did it to be mean. To push me away.

It doesn’t matter that he was right. That I’ve done exactly what he said I do for as long as I remember—the way I’ve learned to get through life with no one but an unstable father to rely on.

The one time I had a chance to be myself, to shape a life around what I want and who I am rather than what I assume other people want, I let my father drag me away from it. Maybe I’m not capable of being different. Maybe I have no right to be angry with Arthur for pointing out that reality.

Maybe now he’ll be so annoyed with me that he makes me leave.

Despite the fact that I first met him years ago, I really know very little about Arthur. Maybe he’s the kind of man who would fire me for displeasing him.

I might have ruined even the temporary safety I have here in one foolish conversation.

With that in mind, I jump up from the bed and run back down the hall and downstairs. I find Arthur where I left him in the library.

He’s just sitting there, staring at the empty desk chair I vacated. He blinks in surprise when he sees I’ve come back.

“I’m sorry,” I say, composing my tone to sound apologetic and just slightly wry. “I’m not sure what got into me. I shouldn’t have gotten upset and said all that.”

He stands up, tilting his head slightly to peer at my face. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I heard what you said. But I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

Baffled and slightly annoyed by his response to my generous apology, I have to fight not to frown at him. “I’m apologizing. What don’t you understand?”

“I don’t understand why. If anyone was at fault here, it’s me. So why would you—?” He breaks off his question, realization twisting briefly on his face. “Damn it, Scarlett. Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I darewhat?” I’m still trying to hold on to my pacifying smile, but it’s hard. The man has to be the most confusing, frustrating person I’ve ever known.

“Don’t you dare try to mollify me.”

I suck in an indignant breath. “I’m not trying to mollify you!” My outrage feels righteous, but even as I say the words, I’m aware that they’re not true. Of course I’m trying to mollify him. That’s exactly what I came back down here to do.

“Yes, you are. You were real before, and now you’re not. You’re not sorry. You’re still exasperated with me.”

“I am not—”

“Stop lying to me.” His voice isn’t loud. I’ve never once heard him raise his voice. But it’s commanding, authoritative.

Part of me wants to shrink, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. “What the hell do you want from me? I know my being here is an act of generosity on your part, and I don’t want to act unappreciative. I’m sorry we argued. It’s the last thing I want. I’ll try—”

“Damn it, Scarlett,” he says again, this time in a guttural mutter. “Do you actually think I’ll fire you? Send you away? Just because you speak your mind?”

“Not for speaking my mind. For offending you.”

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