Consequence of His Revenge(10)
He was damned close to doing it, if she would only, “Ask me to come in.” His voice wasn’t anything he recognized, ragged with sexual hunger and hard with the imperative gripping him.
She shook her head. “No.”
Toying with him?
She had the back of her hand pressed to her mouth. If her lips felt anything like his, they were hot and stinging. There was only one way to soothe that. His gut tightened in anticipation while he gritted his teeth in frustration.
He could accept that a trick of hormones had him reacting to a woman who was his mortal enemy. What he would not allow was for her to use his desire to manipulate him.
“Be ready early, then.” He managed to speak as if his interest had already waned.
Her gaze came up, shiny in the silvery light. Wounded?
“I’m not skiing with you! The only thing I want to hear from you tomorrow is that your accountant has confirmed I’ve been paying you back all this time. Feel free to text an apology at that point.”
“You just never quit, do you?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Be ready,” he warned. “Or I’ll make inquiries about your brother.”
Her head jerked like it was a blow she hadn’t expected. Like she didn’t understand he would find every advantage and use it without mercy.
“My father called you a visionary, you know.” She sounded disillusioned. “I remember because I was jealous that he talked about you with so much admiration. He was just as proud of me, but it still made me work harder, wanting to measure up to someone he regarded so highly. I thought you were someone worthy of his respect. I guess I was mistaken.”
“As was I, thinking he was worthy of mine.”
She sucked in a breath, proving he’d landed a jab as sharp as hers had been. He smiled despite experiencing no satisfaction.
“Good night, Cami.”
“Goodbye, Dante.” She hurried away, sexy boots leaping over puddles, graceful as a gazelle.
As he watched her retreat, skin so tight he could barely breathe, he acknowledged that he was rooting for her. He wanted, by some miracle, to hear that she had been trying to make some sort of restitution to him. It would make this lust so much more palatable.
Which was why he was so disappointed when the email came through in the morning, proving yet again that Fagans were liars.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” It was the understatement of the year. Of the decade. She couldn’t even comprehend what she was seeing. Her stomach had plummeted into her shoes along with her heart, her blood and her brain. Even her breaths felt like she had to draw them with great effort from the center of the earth.
She looked from Dante’s phone, to his remote expression, back to his phone. It still didn’t make sense.
“How can there be no record?”
He released a very quiet sigh. “You’ve taken this as far as it can go, Cami. It’s time to abandon this pretense of yours.” His gaze was flinty with warning. Dislike?
Her insides grew sharp and jagged. A sick feeling churned in the pit of her belly.
“It’s not a pretense!” It was a terrifying disaster.
Her heart picked itself up and began to run. Her mind whirled, trying to grasp at a course of action, but it was like trying to catch a snowflake, each one melting and disappearing on contact. This simply couldn’t be true. He was wrong. His accountant hadn’t looked hard enough.
“I need to talk to my bank,” she managed weakly, touching her temple and finding it clammy. Surely they would have a sensible explanation. Please, God.
“It’s Sunday.”
“I can’t wait to sort this out. It’s thousands of dollars missing!”
“Is that right?”
“Don’t be sarcastic!” It came out sharpened by the tears she was suppressing.
She had actually gone to sleep with a certain peace of mind, thinking she would finally be vindicated in his eyes. He would realize she wasn’t the lowest form of life, and maybe they could move forward from there, toward...she didn’t know what. Something she refused to imagine until it was possible, but it was beyond out of reach now. He still reviled her and, she suspected, thought even less of her for “lying” to him.
How could the money not be showing up in his account?
She had to tell Reeve. He had taken all the files last summer, when he’d been trying to get his student financing in place, to demonstrate need. They’d had a spat about it, actually. She hated anyone to know about their situation, feeling ashamed of it. He was incredibly bitter they were in this position at all—that she was. He couldn’t help her pay it down. He needed every spare cent for tuition and food. He kept saying they had paid enough, but she saw no other option.
She texted him with shaky hands, keeping it vague, just asking him to scan the most important documents, not saying anything about Dante’s accountant.
She wasn’t surprised when there was no response. Reeve often spent Sunday at the library or some other quiet location, catching up on assignments or reading.
When she lowered her phone, Dante lifted his brows in expectation.
“What? Oh, for heaven’s sake! You can’t expect me to go skiing.” She was having a crisis over here. And he hated her. He couldn’t possibly want to spend the day with her. She certainly couldn’t withstand hours of his derision.
“I don’t want to disappoint my grandmother.”
She opened her mouth, wanting to claim a need to visit the bank but then remembering it wasn’t open. She considered phoning the hotline, but doubted the after-hours customer service would be able to do anything. This felt like an in-person problem that would require an official ordering a proper investigation into her own records and the bank’s.
“I’m catching a bus in a couple of hours.”
“My grandmother invited you to travel with her to Vancouver tomorrow.”
“And where do you suggest I spend the night? I’m turning in my keys on my way out of here.” Her backpack was buttoned up, and she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn last night.
Dante lifted one corner of his mouth, as sexy as he was arrogant.
“With you?” Wicked temptation coiled through her, much to her chagrin. He knew it, too, which made it worse. “Please,” she dismissed in a scoff she wasn’t able to pull off. “I was not fishing for an invitation.”
His brows twitched in a silent, Sure you weren’t. “How much do you want?”
“To spend the night with you?” she nearly screeched.
“To play tour guide on the mountain,” he drawled, not bothering to hide the amusement crinkling his eyes. Those tiny lines were annoyingly attractive, making her wish she could prompt a smile that attractive without the mockery at her expense.
Awful man, twisting her up like this. “A thousand dollars,” she blurted.
“Done.”
“I was joking!”
“I wasn’t. Let’s go.” He jerked his head at the door.
“No.”
“You want to negotiate spending the night, as well?” His tone lowered to a velvety, lusty tenor that wrapped her in erotic bonds.
“Stop treating me like I can be bought.” Her voice was barely audible, not nearly as belligerent as she was going for. She was damned near pleading for him to show some mercy—which was futile.
His gaze dropped to the boots she was wearing.
She shifted her weight, unable to hide them. “These were a gift.”
“Ah.” So supercilious. “What sort of gift would you expect from me, then?”
“Respect?” she suggested sweetly.
He held his eyelids at a cool half-mast. “That’s something you earn.”
“And I would earn buckets by taking your money, wouldn’t I? As I told your grandmother last night, I teach kids to ski. One of their mothers gave me these. They weren’t from some random man I slept with. I don’t do that.”
His expression didn’t change. He said nothing, not even a skeptical, No?
She blushed, all too aware of how off the scale her reaction to him was and how it sent all the wrong messages. Maybe he had a reason to wonder about her, considering the way she’d behaved with him, but—Oh, damn him anyway.
“Can you get out of my life, please?” She swept the hair off her brow, aware she was trembling. Teary.
How could he not be getting her money?
He pushed his keys into his pocket with a quiet jangle, gaze so intense it just made her feel all the more fragile. It was a struggle to keep her lips steady.
“I want to believe you, Cami, I really do,” he said quietly. “But you can understand why I don’t. Can’t you?”
Her eyes grew hotter. “Can you understand that I’m freaking out, right now? I thought I was paying you back!” Her phone ought to be snapping in two. It was certainly going to leave a bruise across her palm where she was clutching it with all her strength.
His jaw hardened, and she heard a subtle exhale of tested patience.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, saw it was Reeve. “Hi,” she answered.
“What do you need those papers for? I thought you were on your way here.”
“I haven’t left yet.” She flicked a glance at Dante, certain he could hear her brother as clearly as she could.
“Good, because Seth’s brother just got here. I said you were coming, but if he could use the couch tonight—”