“Brant—”
“I’m leaving.”
“Fine.” She swallowed back the tears and felt her way to the door, tugging it open with both hands.
“Why?”
“What?” She didn’t turn around. “Why what?”
“Why won’t you cash the damn check?”
“For the same reason I made the donation in the first place,” she said softly.
“What’s the reason?”
He didn’t deserve to know—he didn’t deserve her, and yet for all these years she’d held on to a sliver of hope. It was small, but it was hers, her cross to bear, that the man who had hurt her the worst would finally see himself the way she’d always seen him.
Because I’ll always love you. Because no matter how many times you hurt me, I want you.
I crave you. I dream of you.
Because she lost the loves of her life in one fell swoop.
Her family had abandoned her the minute she said yes to him, and his family never forgave him for getting married so young. She was left with nothing.
She told him a half truth. “Nadine Titus. I owed her a favor.”
“And she called in the favor by having you bid on me?”
“Yup.” Let him believe what he wanted—it wouldn’t change anything, nothing would. Especially not now. “Brant?”
“You should go.” His deep voice was like a shot to her heart. She’d fallen for that voice first, the personality second, the body, surprisingly, third. His voice always reminded her of warmth, comfort.
Now? It was hollow, emotionless—dead.
“I’m not the man you knew, Nikki.” She froze as warm hands suddenly pressed down on her shoulders from behind, tugging her against his naked, hot, body. His lips lowered to her ear as he whispered, “That man is dead. Make no mistake, I will fire you without hesitation. Our past”—his voice was shaking—“means nothing.”
Chapter Twelve
Brant stomped out of the spa area, a man with a mission. And his mission? Kill Cole, find Nadine Titus, repeat the process of killing, and take a cold shower.
His body jerked to attention. Maybe he should start with the cold shower.
What the hell had Nadine been thinking? Was she insane?
He snorted, making his way through the lobby.
“Watch it.” He sidestepped one of the staff just in time to see towels go flying. With a sigh he stopped, turned on his heel, and glared. “Clean that up unless you want to get fired.”
The employee hurriedly started folding the towels with shaking hands while Brant groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cole, where is he?”
The guy gulped. “O-outside.”
“Can you be any more specific?” Brant said in a tense voice. “After all, ‘outside’ could be anywhere, you could be talking about fucking Antarctica for all I know. Want to try again?” He loomed over the guy, casting a shadow over the kid’s face. Hell, the kid couldn’t have been any older than Brant was when he first started working. His baby face had no lines of displeasure, no haggard look of too many late nights, still innocent.
Not for long. Nothing in this world ever stayed untainted. Not even the most pure. The most innocent.
“By the pool,” the kid finally spouted. “Last I saw him, he was by the pool.”
Brant shook his head. “That’s better.” When he looked up, Nikki was headed down the hall, her walking stick poking out of her right hand.
His body jolted violently as if he’d just been shocked. When Annie, the spa receptionist, met Nikki and pointed in his direction, he felt the sudden urge to duck behind a tree or run in the opposite direction.
He could smooth-talk his way out of any situation. Except with Nikki. He’d never wanted to. Because he’d just wanted her. Just her.
And because sadness was so often intertwined with the constant anger he felt whenever he thought about her or his past, he sneered even though she couldn’t see the expression. He wanted her to feel the anger directed toward her, however misplaced it may have been.
“Stalking your boss?” he called out to her.
Nikki froze, and her grip on Annie’s arm loosened. “No, actually I thought I heard my boss yelling at one of the college interns and thought I could intervene, you know, be the calm to his storm.”
“Nobody asked for your help.”
“And yet here I am.” Her chin lifted.
“I’m fine.” The kid finally had all the towels restacked. “Mr. Wellington, I was actually headed toward the pool, if you’d just follow me this way.”
Brant shoved past Nikki.
Completely unnecessary. But in a sick way, he wanted to touch her, wanted to make her feel all the things he was feeling, even though he would die before he admitted it.