Impossible Page 0,62

me go into that world by myself. It's as simple as that. That choice is up to you.”

“I'm who I am. And I'm not going to change that or kiss anyone's ass, for you or for them.”

“You have the right to make that decision. But you don't have the right to force them to accept you, if you won't play by their rules, or mine.”

“This is really about you, isn't it? And not about them. You want me to pretend I'm Arthur. Well, I'm not. I'm me.”

“This has nothing to do with Arthur,” she said to him through clenched teeth. “Look, why don't you have dinner with your friends tomorrow? I'll go to my stuffy dinner, I'll leave early, and join you wherever you are in the Marais.”

“What, and go slumming? Lady Bountiful will leave the mansion and meet her peasant boyfriend in the slums? If I'm not good enough for you to take me with you, then I'm going back to London tomorrow.” He had originally been planning to leave then anyway. His offer to stay on had come as a surprise to her.

“That's up to you,” she said quietly. “I'm doing the best I can, Liam. Sometimes this is going to be a stretch for both of us. We knew that from the first.”

“Yeah, we did. I just didn't realize that the one we'd be stretching is me. Just how much humiliation do you expect me to take? You tell me how to behave in your gallery, what not to do to offend the clients. I have to tiptoe around, not kiss you, and not pour a drink. And if I want to go out with you anywhere that matters, I have to dress like Little Lord Fauntleroy and act like Malcolm Forbes. Well, I'm an artist, Sasha. I'm not a trained monkey or a banker, and I won't let you cut off my balls.”

“I'm not trying to cut off your balls. We live in different worlds. This was bound to happen. We are going to have to have a lot of understanding and flexibility with each other if this is going to work.” Neither of them knew yet if it even could, and it was beginning to look like it couldn't, if he was going to insist on doing his wacky artist routine and going everywhere with her. The two just didn't mesh. She had warned him of it before. And now they had hit a wall.

“I told you, I'm not going to let you cut off my balls. I'm going back to London tomorrow. When you get your priorities straight, give me a call.” Listening to him, she wanted to scream.

“This isn't about priorities, Liam,” she said, sounding desperate not to lose her temper with him. It was frustrating trying to reason with him, like an angry child. “It's about playing by the rules, and living in different worlds. Like entering a club. If you want to come into this club, you have to follow their rules.”

“I'm never going to do that, Sasha. Never. If I wanted to do that, I'd still be living in California with my father, and taking shit from him. I'm not taking shit from anyone anymore, and sure as hell not from you. If you want me in your life, then take me, but don't tell me how to behave by whose rules. If you love me, there are no rules, or shouldn't be.”

“There are always rules,” she said sadly. “I have to play by those same rules. I can't behave any way I want. I can't show up in blue jeans tomorrow, or wearing cowboy boots and a baseball cap. I have to show up looking like they do, with my hair combed and an evening gown. I have to be just as proper as they are, and fundamentally I am, because I believe in their rules. It keeps things civilized.”

“I don't want to be civilized, dammit! I want to be me. I want to be respected and accepted for who I am, however I want to behave, not for who I pretend to be, because I'm willing to kiss their asses. I'm not going to kiss anyone's ass ever again.” Their argument was obviously bringing up things from his childhood, because even she could see that his anger at her was out of measure. He was beside himself as he ranted. And nothing she said made sense to him or induced him to calm down. On the contrary, it