Coerced (Billionaire romance)(23)

A long moment, heavy with tension, squatted between them, filling the space until it was thick enough to touch.

Something flitted through Sutton’s expression that was almost too shocking to admit — it looked a lot like pain — but it was gone in an instant.

And so was Sutton.

“You’re fucking more work than you’re worth,” he muttered as he grabbed his keys and bailed from the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Elizabeth released a shaky breath, so relieved he was gone.

Thank you, lord.

The ugly truth was she could possibly forgive him for “cheating” on her but she could never forgive him forcing her sexually.

And the fact that she wasn’t packing her bags this very instance told her she was far more invested in Sutton than she wanted to let on.

The fact that Sutton ran out before doing something he couldn’t take back — said far more.

***

Fuck! What the hell just happened?

His intentions had been twisted into junk like a car dropped into a giant trash compactor.

Hadn’t he planned to be nice?

To actually woo her like a decent human being?

Yes. But then he’d seen her laughing and flirting — and almost KISSING — his little brother and something had snapped inside him. He’d wanted to hurt her because seeing her with Reece like that had hurt him!

How had things gotten so bad, so fast?

So much for following Emma’s advice. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for things like…true human connections.

Emma had said he and Vince were alike and yet Vince had found a good woman and somehow convinced her to be his wife.

Whoa. Apples to oranges.

He didn’t want a wife. He wanted an obedient, sweet, sex slave.

Right?

Hell, he didn’t know anymore.

Frustration welled up inside him.

Yes, he wanted that but he wanted so much more.

He wanted Elizabeth eager and willing to suck his cock, to prance around in a slutty costume for his pleasure, to smile sweetly and present her luscious ass when he wanted to stick his cock in it!

He wanted to have intelligent conversations with her about current events, the fucking weather, even her damn art!

Sutton felt trapped in a box of his own making.

Was it too much to ask to expect Elizabeth to want the same?

The part that made him sick to his stomach was the sinking feeling that he might’ve had that with Elizabeth if he hadn’t been a total ass.

Fresh anger pounded away the inexplicable pain that seemed to dog him whenever he thought of Elizabeth’s tears and how he’d hurt her.

To prove the point to himself, he thought of finding Gemini to let off some steam but when the idea made him physically ill, he wanted to punch something.

What had that woman done to him? Elizabeth had wormed her way into his every thought and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He wanted Elizabeth to smile at him the way she’d smiled at Reece — freely, without reservation — the way she laughed at his stupid little jokes.

Her eyes had lit up as they’d talked about art.

The art that’d been inspired by their visit to Malvagio.

Sutton wanted that light to shine his way.

That inspiration belonged to him!

It’d been HIS hand on her pussy as she’d watched that couple fuck. It’d been HIS finger inside her as she’d writhed against him. It’d been HIS name she’d cried out as she came.

He wanted HIS Elizabeth back.

Scrubbing at his face, he realized just how royally he’d fucked everything up.

The way to getting Elizabeth back wasn’t with threats or coercion.

He had to do something he’d never done before.

He had to allow himself to care about someone more than he cared about himself.

Okay, great.

And, exactly how does one do that?

He doubted there was a manual on how to become less of an asshole.

So ask Vince.

Oh, hell no. He’d figure things out on his own. His cousin wasn’t the love guru. Besides, if Vince could figure it out, he certainly could.

Sutton drew a deep breath and blew it out.

So the first step seemed the hardest.

Apologize.

Even the word made him shudder.

But he supposed that was a good start.

Yeah, but what was he apologizing for, exactly?

That was a loaded question.

A part of him wasn’t ready to acknowledge that he’d done anything wrong.

He hadn’t promised—

Hell, he could ride that useless train all day and it would still take him to nowhere.

Time for action.

He might crash and burn but he had to try.

Grabbing his phone he called the first florist he searched.

“I want the biggest, the best, the most expensive arrangement you have and I want it delivered within the hour.”





Bookmark: 18

-18-

Elizabeth stared at the flowers, dumbfounded. There was no card but she knew they were from Sutton.

The flowers dwarfed what Reece had brought her.

Confused, she simply stared at the beautiful blooms, unable to allow herself to hope that Sutton meant the flowers as an apology.

But an apology for what, exactly? Was he remorseful for his behavior or his actions? Maybe both?

Or was she naive to think that Sutton was doing anything more than just trying to win her over with expensive gifts so she’d stop giving him grief and return to being his willing sex pigeon, content to just be whatever he wanted her to be.

If she took the flowers at face value, she was naive.

If she eyed the flowers with suspicion, she was a cynic.

Neither were a great option.

Her gaze lingered on the vibrant bouquet. They were quite beautiful, that much was true.

Her cell phone dinged with a text message.

It was Sutton.

A car will come for you at 6 p.m. Dress comfortably.

A dismal frown found her as sharp disappointment threatened to skewer her.

He wanted her to pretend all was well. As breathtaking as the flowers were, they meant nothing.

Did she refuse? Tell him to kiss off? To shove his flowers up his butt?

No, that wasn’t fair to the flowers.

She would go. What else could she do? For all of her brave words, Gretchen needed her. Was it Sutton’s fault that she’d somehow let him into her heart? Maybe that was what hurt the most — she’d let herself down by allowing him to hurt her.

This was, and still remained, a business arrangement.

A painful reminder, but a reminder, nonetheless.

Showering and dressing, she climbed into the car and wondered where it was taking her.

When it pulled up to the airport, veering off to a private strip where a small, elegant plane awaited, she nearly swallowed her tongue.

The chauffeur opened her door and she stepped out in shock as Sutton descended the short stairs to help her.

“What is this?”

“This is a plane,” he answered with a small grin.

“I know it’s a plane…I mean…what’s happening?”

He graced her with another smile and she had to admit, his smile did terrible things to her resolve to remain aloof. Sutton, when he tried, was very charming.

They settled into the luxurious leather seats of the private plane and she couldn’t help the wide-eyed wonder of everything around her. The truth was, she’d never flown economy-style, much less ultra-first-class.

And she was a little nervous.

Champagne appeared courtesy of a sharply dressed male steward, which she eagerly sucked down.

“First time flying?” Sutton surmised and she jerked a short nod. He chuckled. “Seems I’m many of your firsts.”

She shot him a look. Not funny.

“Too soon?”

“Much.”

Sutton appeared appropriately chastised, which she took as a promising sign and returned to her window, amazed by how quickly they were taking to the air. “Where are we going?” she asked, once they were in flight.

“Spain.”

“S-spain?” the word escaped in a puff of shock. “I…what?”

Sutton, his mouth warming with another smile. “Surprised?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s an understatement. I didn’t bring any clothes!”

“I shall buy you a new wardrobe if you like. We’re going somewhere specific. Someplace I think you’ll enjoy.”

An intrigued smile found her lips. “And where is that?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of The Prado in Madrid.”

One of the ten most amazing museums in the world? “You mean, the museum that houses the Spanish royal family’s commissioned art throughout the centuries? Ahh, yes, I’ve heard of it! Dreamed of it!” Elizabeth forgot everything else and just tried to catch her breath as her heart sped up with wonder and amazement. He had to be pulling her leg. People just didn’t hop in a plane for Europe! “Are you serious? We are going to The Prado?”

He laughed, pleased. “Yes. Every artist should visit where fine art resides. If you like, we shall visit them all.”

Oh, Lord. He was serious. Deliriously happy tears flooded her eyes. This was better than flowers. Better than chocolate. She jerked a nod, as she tried to hold back the flood. “Yes!” Her mind was babbling and her mouth hadn’t quite caught up. All she could manage were single syllable sounds that didn’t sound coherent at all but Sutton didn’t seem to mind. If anything he seemed to swell with pride that he’d rendered her mostly speechless.

“Good.” He motioned to the steward, saying, “I hope you don’t mind dinner on the plane. It’s a long flight. We shall arrive sometime in the morning.”

Dinner? Oh, right. Who cared about food? But her stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn’t eaten lunch after all the turmoil had gone down. “I’d be fine with a sandwich of some sort.”