Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(64)

Which I was. When Cosmo had made the arrangements, I had offered to pick  up the cherry-red Porsche prior to the shoot. Of course, those  arrangements had solely been based on selfish motives and I had made  sure I had the entire afternoon to drive this pretty baby around the  city.

And God, she drove like a dream-cruising through the city with a quiet  purr and taking turns with ease. It was a rare and refreshing experience  to drive after living in a city where people rarely owned cars. There  was just something about being behind the wheel, music blaring, roof  open, and wind in my hair.

My mood started to lift as I weaved in and out of traffic, making stops  at random for my Monday errands. After barely missing a parking citation  for parking outside of Starbucks illegally, I headed toward Midtown and  stopped at the dry cleaner. I was in and out of the quaint family  business before the parking meter ran out of its measly ten minutes.

Stuck at a stoplight, I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught sight  of Thatch's cleanly pressed suits lying across the back seat.

"Oh, shit," I muttered.

Did I really just pick up his dry cleaning?

It was like I had completely forgotten about everything that had  happened-the breakup, the other night at the bar, him not wanting to be  with me anymore.

"Fuck. Why did I do that?" I said to no one in particular.

You know why, you idiot …

I mentally chastised myself and refused to let my thoughts wander back  to that sad place where I had to come to terms with the fact that Thatch  wasn't mine. That we weren't together. That things were over between  us.

"Fuck!" I shouted and turned up the volume to drown out my racing thoughts.

And I forced my brain to focus on my shoot as I headed for location.




"That's perfect, Eduardo. Just tilt your head slightly up and to the  right," I instructed as he leaned against the Porsche with the New York  skyline resting behind him.

I snapped a few photos from a side angle before changing positions and lying on my belly to grab some shots looking up at him.

"I never get to see you anymore, Cassie," he said and hitched his hip  against the car. "I don't like it." He flashed a playful smile in my  camera's direction. Eduardo was a male model I had known for years. He  was about as attractive as one would imagine a male model would be, and I  had noticed that very fact on more than one occasion. Believe me, we  had experienced our fair share of afternoon shoots and late-night sex  together.

I shook my head to clear it. The thought of him and me together made me feel dirty. Wrong. Uncomfortable.

He gave his signature smirk. "I think we should change that, gorgeous. Come out with me tonight after we're done here."

I paused behind my lens for the briefest of seconds as a million emotions ran through my veins and straight to my heart.

Normally, I would have taken Eduardo up on his offer.

Obviously, I had in the past, many, many times.

But I had absolutely zero desire to do what I normally did.

The only kind of normalcy I craved revolved around Thatch and us and  spending every second of our time together. I wanted him. I wanted what  we had. I wanted our happy bubble of jokes and pranks and hot sex and  flirty winks.

God, I hated him.

Liar.

Well, I wanted to hate him.

I pulled my camera away from my face and glanced at my watch.

7:00 p.m.

My pink diamond engagement ring winked in the fading sun. Fucking winked.

I had to get rid of it. Now.

Which was why I tossed my camera in the back seat of the Porsche, opened the driver's door, and told Eduardo to get out.

He stared back at me, confused.

"Get out of the car," I demanded, and lucky for him, he listened.

Like a woman deranged, I didn't waste any time or offer any explanations  to the staff on set. I peeled out of the parking lot with a loud squeal  of the tires and left in the middle of one of the biggest photo shoots  of my career. All because a ring was fucking winking at me.

Fifteen minutes later, I damn near hit a few pedestrians as I parked  illegally in front of the tattoo shop. I was out of the car and striding  through the entrance within seconds. The bell above the door rang  erratically, and Frankie looked up from behind the reception desk, his  eyes wide with both recognition and shock.

"Cass?"

My mind wouldn't let me do anything other than yell over him. "Take this fucking ring back!"

I yanked at it frantically, trying to free it from my finger, but it  hung like Walter had hung on to Stan's cage. At this rate, I'd be raw  and bloody, but I was obviously beyond the point of caring about  anything.         

     



 

The one thing I cared about didn't want me, so I wanted this reminder  gone. Pulling and pulling, each yank opened up some untapped well of  emotion, and by the time it even came close to coming off, I was  sobbing.

"Come here," Frankie said, taking me by the elbow and gently leading me  to a chair in the back. He went into the bathroom and came back out with  a tissue, offering it to me with a kind smile. "Take a minute and calm  down," he instructed gently.

I wiped at my eyes and found myself irrationally cursing his steely ways. "Fuck you for being so steady right now."

He smiled, and it honestly surprised me how receptive I was to it.

"Feel better?" he asked softly, and I shrugged.

"A little."

"Good."

Now that I wasn't so agitated, the ring slipped free of my finger with  ease. I closed it in my fist and concentrated on giving it up. Every  cell in my body was shouting its refusal. I clamped the ring harder in  my hand until I felt the sting of the diamond pressing into my palm.

Eventually, I took a deep breath and found the strength to shove the ring toward Frankie. "Give this to him."

He shook his head. "I think you should give it to him yourself."

A thousand emotions pulsed through my veins until my ears buzzed with  the erratic pounding of my heart. Why wouldn't Frankie just take the  fucking ring? Didn't he understand? If I had to be the one to hand  Thatch back the ring, my fucking ring, it would be the final straw.  Having to face him and face the truth that we were really over would  destroy me.

"I can't," I spat. "It rips my heart out to see him, so you can take the  ring or I'll flush it down the toilet!" I shouted, throwing it to the  floor when he still didn't hold out his hand.

His expression remained neutral. "Do you want to hear what I think?"

"No," I answered obstinately. His eyebrows went up in challenge, and I folded like a poker novice. "Yes," I admitted.

"Go on, sit down," he directed, and I had no qualms with following his  orders. I was dog tired from the long day, but mostly, I was exhausted  from having to remind myself a million times a day, every goddamn day,  that I couldn't call Thatch or text him or do anything that revolved  around him because we weren't together anymore. Our breakup felt like a  constant one-hundred-pound weight on my shoulders.

"You scared Thatch last week."

"I know. And hurting him burned a hole through my heart. But I'm really not interested in being the ghost of his ex-girlfriend."

"Well, I'm glad to know you're so sympathetic-"

I cringed. "God, I'm so sorry," I found myself apologizing. "That was a really dick thing to say."

Frankie nodded. "Yeah, it was, but it's okay," he accepted. "And this has nothing to do with Margo."

Thatch had said the same thing. I wasn't sure I believed either of them.

"Sure, that's how she died," he went on, and my eyes widened. He nodded  again. "Yeah. Jumping off a cliff into a shallow pool of water, right  after Thatch begged her not to."

His words hit my chest like a bullet, and I inhaled a shaky breath.

"So it is about her," I said on a whisper.

He shook his head. "No, it's not. There, that day, the moment. Yeah, he  remembered. He's the one who spent thirty minutes trying to revive her,  so I know he remembered."

A single tear cut down my cheek as my heart broke for them. For  Thatch-the man who deserved so much better than me-and for Frankie, so  willing to open his arms to me even when I was yo-yoing between manic  and a Grade A bitch.

"But you scaring him was all about you."

I shook my head and wiped at my eyes. "I don't get it." But God, I  wanted to. Even though, deep down, I probably already knew the answer.

"You're the exact woman he's always wanted, Cassie. Always. But that day  made him afraid to want it. Afraid to think of what he might be putting  himself through for the rest of his life. He knows you're going to be  wild and untamed, and he loves it. Until he feels like being so  accepting of it might be the reason he loses you."

"But what do I do?" My voice was barely audible.

"What you do is always up to you, Cassie. You're the one who needs to decide what's really important to you."

I already knew the answer to that.

Moving to the corner of the room, he picked up the ring and dropped it  in my hand. "And if you really think it's over, you need to give him the  ring back yourself. He'll be here tonight at nine."