Just One Night, Part 3_ Binding Agreement(51)

“Asha stayed behind. I saw her as I was pulling out of the garage. She said her car broke down. It was threatening to rain so I offered her a ride.”

I freeze; my stomach does a little nauseating flip. I’m the woman Mr. Dade wants you to be.

“Her car didn’t break down,” I say quietly.

“I know that.”

“You know that now.”

“And I knew it then.” He sighs, casts a wistful glance at my scotch. “I wanted to understand what you see in them. Dave, Tom, Asha—they all treated you like you were a prostitute. A whore paid to put up with their leers and abuse. A slut who didn’t deserve their respect let alone their civility. And yet you asked me to spare them all. I wanted to understand why.”

He’s Robert Dade and I’d be a willing and eager player in his bedroom games. Not because I want his assistance but because I’d like to see if I could break him.

I reach for the scotch then push it in his direction, urging him to take a sip. “Did she . . . help you understand?”

Robert takes the drink but doesn’t raise it to his mouth. “In a way.”

I close my eyes against the images those words bring up. Robert with Asha in his arms, she underneath him, wrapping her legs around him the way I used to do. Digging her nails into his skin. Asha turning sex into a knife.

“She’s a sociopath,” he says.

The words jar me. Cautiously I open my eyes.

“She’s only interested in herself,” he continues, “has no consideration for others, enjoys revenge more than she enjoys love. And you don’t want to be her. You asked me to spare her, Tom, and Dave because you’re better than all of them. You’re better than me, too.”

“Robert, did you—”

“Sleep with her?” he shakes his head. “No. It’s obviously what she wanted. She left her coat in my car in hopes of giving me an excuse to return it to her.”

“Which coat?” I ask. It doesn’t really matter but I’m trying to visualize this.

“It has a fox-fur trim.”

I nod. I remember it. “Did you return it?”

He shakes his head. “It didn’t seem right that I see her again. Not because I’d be tempted to sleep with her but because I know how she treated you and seeing her would tempt me to destroy her the way I almost destroyed your fiancé. I’m trying to be decent, Kasie. To be better.” He pauses, takes a drink. “So I decided I’d tone it down a bit and instead of ruining her career I just took the coat to Goodwill.”

I break out laughing. It’s easily a $700 coat. Not small change for someone in Asha’s position. The idea of some unemployed club-going teenager wearing it fills me with a certain kind of glee.

I look down at the cards covering the table. “Thank you, for letting up on Dave.”

He nods, his mood serious again. “Tom Love isn’t being blackballed anymore either. He deserves to be, but I let him off the hook.”

I look up, take the scotch back from him. “Why?” I ask.

He shrugs, suddenly seeming almost shy. “Like I said, I’m trying to be better. I think maybe . . . maybe it’s time to stop running.”

I meet his eyes, take a drink. “I’m building a life for myself,” I say quietly. “One that I can be proud of. If I just jump back in where we left off . . . I’m just not sure that’s a good idea, Robert. I don’t know that I really want it.”

I see the hurt but this time he doesn’t pull away or grow cold. “What do you want, Kasie?”

“I want to stand on my own two feet. I want to know what independence is. I want to . . . to pace myself. I only get one life, I want to savor it and make it count for something.”

“So we can’t pick up where we left off,” he says in a whisper, “because then your life wouldn’t count for something?”

“No, because we started it all wrong. If Dave and I tried to build a relationship based on conformity, you and I . . . we built a romance based on betrayal.”

He nods, twirls a card around on the table. “I thought you might say something like that. So I was thinking . . . what if we try for a do over?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know.” He smiles; it’s a boyish grin and endears me immediately. “We could do it right this time. Last time I met you I was in disguise in a way. I was hiding away everything that hinted at my . . . my sentimentality.”

I raise my eyebrow at that but don’t interrupt.

“I was hiding anything that could be seen as being warm or vulnerable. I was . . .”

“You were a stranger,” I finish for him.