sure.
“Even if you didn’t want to go out, you did, and you lied to me about it. You knew I’d assume you were going to bed after I texted you last night, but those pictures were taken at four in the morning.” She shot him an accusing look. “So much for being tired.”
Marcus bit his lip, and his fingers curled into a fist. For a minute, Kyra thought he might punch the wall or something, he looked so frustrated, but he didn’t. “Please cut me some slack,” he begged. “I’ll have enough to worry about when my father sees those photos.”
Cut him some slack? Please.
“For your information, your father had already seen them,” she said. “In fact, he’s the one who told me about them.”
“What?” Marcus’s eyes bulged.
“He showed up here earlier today with his posse of bodyguards.” Kyra nearly shivered remembering the coldness of the king’s words. “He told me you’re too immature to make decisions about your future, and then he tried to pay me off to leave without telling the press about our baby.”
Marcus paled, and he shook his head.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that, Kyra. But I can’t say I’m surprised that he came to you. He told me the same thing.”
Kyra was shocked. Why hadn’t Marcus told her?
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him it was our decision and that we’d make it together.” He put a hand over Kyra’s, but she bristled and pulled hers away. “Look, you don’t have to worry,” he continued. “I’ll take care of my father, I promise.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Just like you took care of that investor last night?”
Marcus shot her a dirty look. “No! Not like that! That was unavoidable, I told you. I had to take him out.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Easy for you to say,” he retorted. “You’re not the one everybody was counting on to get the investment.”
Excuses. That’s all he was good for. She was done with this conversation and done with Marcus Ashton. He was no good to her if she couldn’t trust him. It was time to end things before they got worse.
Anger coursed through her veins, both at Marcus for being weak and immature, and also at herself for being so gullible as to let him into her heart. “You know what, Marcus? You’re just like my sister. You promise you’ve changed, that you’ve grown up, and then you bounce right back into your old games. And you drag me into them, turning me into tabloid fodder. I’ve dealt with people like you my whole life, and I don’t need another one.”
“What are you saying?” he asked quietly, looking broken.
She was saying she couldn’t do this. How could she ever trust a man with a reputation and past like Marcus’s? Especially after he’d lied to her. Even if she wanted to give it another chance, they were too different to make things work. She’d never fit in with his family, and she had no desire to deal with his lifestyle and all the paparazzi it entailed.
What they’d had at the estate had been a fairy tale. They couldn’t sustain it within the realm of reality.
“I’m saying it was good while it lasted, but it just isn’t going to work,” she said, fighting back tears. “We aren’t going to work.”
She explained her reasons to Marcus, who nodded but looked completely devastated. He didn’t argue with her but gave her a hug then dejectedly slumped out the door.
As soon as the door closed, Kyra burst into tears.
To Marcus’s chagrin, the next day he had to drive back out to the estate house to meet his brother Edward. The two had planned to meet to discuss renovations, which Edward’s fiancée would oversee. Clementine specialized in big restoration projects that involved old houses. She’d managed the reconstruction on their aunt’s old castle just last year. She was excited to start work on the estate.
Everywhere Marcus looked, he saw Kyra. The minute he pulled up, he imagined Kyra standing on the wraparound porch, looking pretty, kissing him goodbye sweetly before the sneaky reporter began snapping pictures. The house itself reminded him of their lovemaking the night of the storm. He wished he could go back and do it all over.
Maybe he’d find a way not to hurt her.
But who was he kidding? More likely, he’d make the same mistakes.
In the kitchen, Marcus noticed a leftover half-loaf of garlic bread from their spaghetti dinner. He