I scowl at the thought, shaking my head and thinking of his own mystery phone call from this morning.
Fine, Austin has his secrets.
This is mine.
“Looking good, baby.”
Vince leers at me, and I hate the words coming out of his mouth. It’s the sort of compliment that makes you feel sick, or dirty, even though I’ve just showered an hour and half before.
“What do you want, Vince? Why am I here?”
He chuckles. “Looks like you grew a backbone slumming it with your little rebound,” he says dryly. “And how is Mr. Golden Boy?”
“He’s fine, how’s your secretary?”
Vince’s lips pull into a wicked smile. “I’m a weak man, Natalie, you know that.” He shakes his head, like he’s actually in any way feeling remorseful of his behavior.
“Vince,” I say again, sitting up straight in my chair across the table from him, hands clasped tightly in my lap. “What is this about.”
“I’d like you back, Natalie.”
What?
Not ‘I want you back’, not ‘I miss you.’ Not even a damn ‘I’m sorry.’
I’d like you back.
I roll my eyes. “Vince if this is the reason you had me drive through LA traffic-”
“I’ll double what he’s paying you.”
My jaw drops as I stare at Vince. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve got eyes and ears, Natalie,” Vince says evenly. “I know what you and Austin are. I know about your arrangement, and I’ve got a better one.”
I’m still trying to find words as I slowly shake my head.
“Double, Natalie. I’ll double what he’s paying you.”
My lip curls back from my teeth, my eyes narrowing at him as the rage roars up inside of me. “I’m not for sale, Vince!” I hiss at him, feeling my nails digging into my own hands in my lap.
“Aren’t you?”
I shake my head. “You are fucking unbelievable! That is not what-”
Vince laughs mirthlessly. “Oh, what is it, Natalie? True love? Are you two fated lovers?” He sneers. “Please, don’t insult me. I know exactly what girls like you are.”
“Girls like me?!” I snap, heedless of the turned heads and hushed conversation in the restaurant around us as I stand abruptly. “I’m leaving.”
I whirl, but Vince’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist and yanking me back.
“Hang on.” His eyes narrow at me. “Double what he’s paying you, and I won’t humiliate you like he is.”
I sneer at Vince again. “He’s not-“
“Oh please, Natalie. The tabloid nonsense? The other women?” He snorts. “That trashy girl pregnant with his child?”
“That’s not true,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Says him.” Vince shakes his head. “I won’t treat you like that, Natalie.”
It’s like he’s forgotten the incident in his office already.
“Vince, this conversation is over.”
I jerk my hand out of his grip, but he stands, putting a hand on my arm.
“You’ll be my real wife, and I mean that. A real wedding, Natalie, with you becoming a part of my family.”
Which “family”…
“You’ll be taken care of, Natalie. Looked after.” He smiles thinly at me. “You’ll carry my children.”
I groan, turning away from him. “Jesus, Vince.”
“I’m not saying you have to love me, Natalie.” He rolls his eyes. “I think we’re both mature enough to know that’s not a real thing anyways.”
His steps towards me, the smell of his cheap cologne nauseating me as his eyes level on me. “Think of it as a better business arrangement. I mean my God, Natalie, it’s not like he loves you.”
The feeling that starts to bleed out inside is awful - this terrible, leeching, sinking feeling as I try and fight against what Vince is saying. I’m trying to block it out, trying not to let the poison of his words inside.
But it’s there, and there’s just enough horrible, awful truth to it to make it take hold.
“I have to go,” I say quickly, turning and grabbing my purse from my chair.
“Think about it, babe,” Vince says, smirking like he’s perfectly aware and perfectly smugly proud of how poisonous he is.
I grab my purse and speed-walk out of the restaurant, praying I get away from him before the tears start to fall.
37
Austin
Dear Austin. Would you like to get lunch today? There is a lovely little French restaurant I’ve discovered off of North Camden Drive. Let me know what you think. Love, Mom.
I grin and shake my head at my phone. My mom sends text messages as if they were handwritten letters.