For The One(6)

“You’re lying,” I huffed. “Tim wouldn’t have sold it to you. I signed the papers, and he promised he’d give me six months to buy it back before anyone else could.”

Doug shrugged. “You were late on your last payment and I figured I’d just buy it back. I was embarrassed enough that you were late. I didn’t want you to default.”

“I was four days late! I needed to wait ‘til my paycheck—”

“I was doing you a favor.” He sneered. “ Some gratitude you have.”

I wanted to howl in frustration. When I’d mentioned needing to hock the tiara, Doug had offered to lend me the money. Even then I’d known that was a bad idea, so I’d politely declined his offer. That was when he’d mentioned this jewelry broker he knew who could get me a better deal than a pawn shop—and who would hold on to the item for me until I could pay him off.

Stupid, stupid Jenna. Why did I do this to myself?

“Please…” I squeaked. “Do you really want things to end like this?”

Doug fumbled in his bag for a clean shirt and then straightened. “I don’t want to end this at all. I told you, I was going to convince you to stay.”

“By holding the tiara over my head?” That sick feeling in my stomach was increasing by the moment and tears poked the backs of my eyes. “You’re a bastard. You don’t even know what that tiara means to me. It’s…it’s…” I stopped myself. He didn’t deserve to know those precious, private emotions attached to that inanimate object…memories of the hopes and fears of a scared little girl on a plane clutching it to her chest as she landed in a brand new country where she didn’t even speak the language.

He shrugged. “You’re the one who wants to break up. Like I said—”

“So you’re saying if I don’t break up with you, I’ll get the tiara back.”

“Sure…eventually.”

I wanted to beat the shit out of him with his own weapon. “What do you mean eventually?”

“I mean that I was in the mood to celebrate tonight, and I was going to give it to you. I made reservations at La Terminale and everything. I take you nice places, Jen. You’ve got to admit—”

“That tiara is my property. A family heirloom. You’d better give it back, Doug.”

“I believe I have a receipt that says it’s currently my property.”

I almost stomped my foot. “Don’t be an asshole. I’m not going to stay with you because you are trying to blackmail me, okay? That tiara…” My voice gave out, succumbing to unexpected emotion. It was no use. The more upset I got, the smugger Doug looked.

He would not see me cry. If it were in my power, I wouldn’t let him make me cry. The last man to ever make me cry was Brock, and then my very soul had poured out into the ocean of tears I’d shed for him. Only him. I could never let myself get that way again.

“Fuck you, Doug. You haven’t heard the last of me. I’ll take it to the clan council.”

“Drama queen, much?” He rolled his eyes, and I burned with so much hatred that I wanted to slap him. “I’m sure the clan council will think you’re as heartless as I do for selling some priceless inheritance your daddy gave to you.”

I took a threatening step toward him, and for a split second there was fear in his eyes. But I couldn’t say anything and the tears were clogging and blurring everything.

He’d pay. I’d so make him pay.

I scooped up my bag and, spinning on my heel, I stormed out of the tent and raced toward the edge of the encampment. The tears were coming fast and I couldn’t let anyone see them. With my head down, my bag slung over my shoulder, I sped up, fists tightened at my sides. I was so close to escape—

Only to slam into a solid body as I rounded the very last tent in the row. I’d been moving so fast that I couldn’t stop my momentum and thus landed flat on my ass.

I sat back in shock, taking a few seconds to gather my wits. When I looked up, it was straight into the face of Doug’s nemesis. Despite my best efforts, there were tears on my cheeks and I was sure the expression on my face screamed helplessness.

For his part, he looked stunned, then bent immediately to help me up. My eyes fixed on the thick column of his throat rising up from his open tunic, which also exposed the very top of his chest. There was a thin patch of dark hair over solid muscle.

Doug was right. William had been working out for months—and it showed.

He looked…amazing. Especially with so few clothes on. William had always been a handsome guy, but his preparations for the fight had honed him. Now he was tall, dark, handsome and muscular. And where Doug had appeared small and tired, William looked vibrant and powerful.