"You … defied my expectations. At an aggregate level, the women around me-except Elizabeth-want a fun time in bed, access to my money … and maybe some exposure and a chance to meet Ryder and his agent. And I'm comfortable with that because I know how to handle it. But you … " He shakes his head. "You didn't want to want sex, you've never been terribly impressed with my money and you couldn't care less about Ryder or what knowing him could do for you. And when you told me you loved me … " His eyes take on a faraway look. I feel like he's somewhere in distant space, even though he's right next to me, his warm, bare skin flush against mine. "I wanted that love. It gutted me when I thought you said that to manipulate me. Annabelle Underhill often told me she loved me when she thought I was onto something. If she hadn't, I might've found out what she was up to sooner."
I caress his cheek with my fingertips, hurting for him and hating that bitch with a passion. And she hasn't paid for what she's done. Being dumped by Julian after he used her is nowhere near enough.
"But you stopped saying it, and I can't tell you the kind of panic it created. Then Elizabeth made a point of mentioning that sometimes love can turn into indifference."
"Why would she say that?"
He shrugs, but a certain stiffness of movement betrays his discomfiture. "We were talking and it came up. But she's right. Love can turn into something else in the face of cruelty." He takes my hand and kisses my fingers one by one. "I'm not the type to stay panicked. I went back and thought things through, then realized we never had the right beginning. The contract … It limits what we have, reducing it to a monetary transaction. I don't want that anymore." His hand tightens around mine. "Even though that's what you want."
"Elliot … "
"Everyone learns from watching others and mimicking them. I've never learned how to love. The kind of love you want isn't something I ever saw growing up."
My heart breaks. The skin around my eyes turns hot, and I blink away tears. I thought he hadn't offered his love because he didn't think I was worthy of it. Now I see I was wrong. He promised money because that's the only thing he believed he had to give.
He continues, "I know what I'm asking for is unfair-"
I kiss him to shut him up. I can't listen to this gorgeous, brilliant man feeling like he's less because of his past. "I love you."
Vulnerability and tenderness flare in his eyes. "Annabelle … "
"And you don't have to call me Annabelle." I give him a soft smile, stroking his brow with gentle fingers. "I actually like it when you call me Belle. You gave me that nickname." I breathe in deeply. I am so, so scared-terrified, really-but if I don't take this step, then we have no future. And I want one … Oh how I want a future with Elliot! "Okay. No rules, no limit to what we can have."
The smile he gives me is blinding.
Chapter Nineteen
Annabelle
The next morning, I get up later than I intended. Elliot is already up. I shake my head. In addition to good looks and a super brain, he also seems to be blessed with inhuman stamina. My brain is still foggy with sleep. He kept me up a good portion of the night. It was for a pleasurable cause, but that doesn't mean I'm not worn out.
"Good morning, beautiful," he says, his voice extra cheery. He's in a pale green shirt that clings to his perfectly sculpted body. It makes me warm just from looking. His denim shorts are artfully faded and frayed, and he has a bright pink mug in his hand.
"You're too cheerful." I start to bury my head back under the sheets, then smell coffee. "Wait. For me?"
"Who else?" He flicks my nose.
I sit up. A man who brings me a fresh brew in the morning is a prince, even if he did keep me up the night before. And, appropriately enough, the mug reads The Person Drinking Out of Me Is a Princess. Inhaling the rich aroma, I take a long sip and sigh. "This is so good."
He kisses me on the mouth. "So are you."
"Mmm." I blink away the sleep. The caffeine helps. He turns around, the expertly cut denim shorts showcasing his tight butt. Something clicks into place in my brain. "You don't have your ass tattoo anymore."
He looks at me over a shoulder. "What?"
"FU."
"Oh, that? I got rid of it last year, not that I told anybody."
"Why?"
He shrugs. "I got it while drunk. It was my 'fuck you' to Dad, but then I decided I was through with it. By the way, erasing a tattoo hurts like a bitch."
I giggle. "Good. Then you should let Nonny know."