Page 95 of House of Deceit

I berate myself for ever believing what Alec was saying. He has always been honest about needing me to make his career dreams come true. Why would I ever think anything would change? That he wouldn’t jump on a chance if it was presented to him?

That I mattered to him.

“I’m sorry. It was fun while it lasted,” he adds, another stab to my heart.

As he crushes my soul, I realize I love this man.

“Stop,” I whisper.

My shoulders collapse inward as I hug myself. I look at his cold, gray eyes as he stares me down without a hint of emotion. The Alec I met during my promotional photo shoot is the Alec sitting before me right now. Not the man who has a sister he’s crazy about. Not the one who had his mom kiss his scraped knee when he fell out of his tree house. Not the one who built that tree house with his dad and split a root beer with him over a job well done.

As my heart breaks, I choose to feel numb. Alec King has gotten my smiles and my laughs. He’s gotten my love, but he’ll not get to see a single tear. He won’t get a single moment of my sadness.

I sit up straight and look him dead on.

“So, what happens now? Do I get a new wrangler? We only have two weeks left at this point. Will I just share a wrangler with someone?”

Alec seems a bit taken aback by my straightforward questions.

“You’ll be assigned the wrangler of whomever is eliminated this week. Jayden and Penelope’s wranglers are both great at their jobs. You will hardly realize I’m gone.”

“No problem,” I say, waving away his words. He could not be more wrong.

I will know every second he’s not here with me.

“This is for the best, Charlie. It’s better to end it now, before anyone finds out. I’m doing this for you.”

My body moves without a conscious choice from me and I stand from my chair.

“All right, well, if that’s all, I’m going to get back to Parker.”

I see the sting of my words landing, his jealousy over our closeness never fully put to rest, but I don’t care.

“Charlie,” he calls out as my hand touches the doorknob. “I really am sorry. I’ll—,” he cuts himself off. My brain imagines his voice breaking.

“Sure. Good luck, by the way. You deserve it.” I pull the door open and walk out of the room, proud my voice never shook with the emotion flowing through me.

My feet carry me back down to the gym where I throw myself into the rest of my workout. Seeing that Parker left all the equipment set with the appropriate weight for me, I settle myself onto the bench, taking the barbell into my hands. Pushing out the various repetitions, tears leak from my eyes. Racking the weights, I sit up, shoving my fist against my lips, silencing the sobs my broken heart is crying.

Hurt threatens to crush me as I yell silently into the void. The knife of Alec’s words has cut my heart into bloody ribbons. But why would he stay? Scott’s words in his letter come back to me.

“I need someone that has drive.”

Alec has drive. He wants something from his life. He has dreams and goals. What do I want? To make my rent. That’s not passion. He needs someone who understands, who can push him to be better, support him. And what do I have to offer?

Nothing.

When I’m done with the routine and my muscles are jelly, I make my way to the showers, stripping out of my sweaty clothes and climbing in to wash everything away.

Moving into the closet, I rip the top drawer open of my assigned dresser. The first thing I see is the onesie Alec gave me. Snatching it up, I throw it behind me before I grab up the next set that touches my hands.

Crawling into my own bed, I pull the covers up above my head, shivering without the added warmth of my gifted pajamas, and let tears silently run down my face. This will be the only time I allow myself to cry so freely about all the promises he gave me. All the hopes and dreams.

Tonight is for wallowing. Tomorrow will be for getting my head back into the game.

Ignoring everyone who tries to stop me for some inane thing or another, I make my way to my office, grabbing my few personal belongings and shoving them into my bag.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I text George, asking him to pull the car around. Reliable as the phases of the moon, he’s there waiting as I step from the mansion.

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