that, right? Super convenient for you.’ Stupid, stupid, Rose.
‘No, that’s not true. I was ending things with her. Ending the business arrangement that is is. What I said our first time here in Monaco, I meant it. I’ve never had another woman in my bed.’
‘I guess that’s the kind of thing all cheaters say.’
A muscle in his jaw beginning to clenching. ‘Whatever you think, whatever I’ve done, I was not unfaithful to you.’
‘So you just cheated on her?’
‘You can’t cheat in business. My mistake was waiting for us both to be in the same country for me to finish things.’
‘If it was purely a business arrangement, you could’ve told me. You might’ve warned me. You might’ve—’ At the first sign of a warble, I clamp my lips together, dropping my head again as I pretend the leaking at the outer corners of my eyes is rain.
Indoor rain. Nothing wrong with that.
‘I’m sorry, truly sorry, but none of this changes how I feel about you. I cannot be without you.’ I hear the determination. Feel his words. But it takes two to make a relationship, and while he might not have broken Amélie’s heart, mine currently needs a baggy and a tub of glue.
‘I need you to leave,’ I whisper as I finally stand and brush the hair from my face and straighten my clothes, trying to retain the last threads of my dignity as I begin to move. I don’t get far as he gracefully rocks to his feet and takes my shoulder in his hands.
‘Let me go, Remy.’
‘I can’t do that. I know I’ve hurt you, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
‘Just . . . just go away. I can’t deal with you or your lies.’
‘I won’t let you go.’ His hands cup my face, his words softly determined, and I wish I could harden my heart to him.
‘But the choice isn’t yours.’
‘If I can’t deal with the thorn, I don’t deserve the Rose.’
‘I guess you’ve already proven both of those. I need you to leave me alone, Remy.’
He whispers my name as I walk away, but we were a lost cause before we even began.
27
Remy
‘You’re still awake. Good.’ I’m sure some would say I deserve to go to hell for leaving one woman only to join another, but I’ve never cared for the opinions of others. Besides, I should’ve done this long ago.
‘Jet lag.’ Her attention moves from the open Gucci suitcase on her bed to shoot me a tight smile. If she has any thoughts about me appearing at the threshold of her bedroom, she doesn’t share them as she turns away again.
‘Where have you been again?’ I’m not sure why I ask. A prelude to an awkward conversation?
‘Remy, why are you being like this? You know I went to a spa in Florence.’
‘For almost three months?’
‘Well, no. I hitched a ride with Serge to Paris then on to New York. I would’ve been back sooner if you’d let me use the Gulfstream.’
That’s what it always comes back to with her. What she can get out of me and how. There was a time in the beginning when she’d tried to use sex, but I don’t respond well to manipulation.
‘Are you ready to tell me who that was in your office now?’ Her words are pitched lightly. Deceptively so.
‘No.’ As I answer, I slide off my jacket and throw it over the back of the ridiculous Bibendum chair. A chair that will be, no doubt, piled high with clothes before long. Because why unpack your case properly when you can have the maid do all the hard work in the morning?
She turns her attention back to her case, her trim frame encased in pastel pink yoga wear, her expensively highlighted hair—for which she engages a full-time stylist, paid for by me—is fashioned into something that looks like a donut. Why was I stupid enough to become engaged in the first place? Why did it have to be her?
The answer is the same as always: I’d have done almost anything to better him. And I have. The Wolf name was always highly regarded within the region, but since his death, we’re revered. Feared.
I press my hands to my hips and drop my head. We’ve both played our parts. It’s time to move on. ‘It’s over, Amélie.’
She snorts, swinging around to face me. ‘What, again? Because I didn’t call you from New York? Or is this because I spent over the limit of my credit card