His shoulders rose and then fell.
“Who told you?”
“Charles. The night of your charity ball. Right before I slapped him.”
“So that’s why he was badmouthing you and why you left, crying. I should’ve known. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Don’t change the subject; did you or did you not take six million dollars from your friends, who were my clients, and let them believe we’d slept together?”
Still facing the opposite direction, Bennett shook his head. “It was thirty-five million. One million from each man in the pool.”
Thirty-five? “Oh, God,” she gasped her words. “How many were my clients?”
“All of them,” he replied in a quiet voice.
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to expect, but it hadn’t been that. Perhaps she’d secretly hoped he’d say it was a lie. All of it. Or that it was only a misunderstanding of some sort. But she’d not expected him to confirm her worst fear. “So that was the reason you came to Phoenix. Because of the bet?”
Bennett’s head fell forward. “Yes. I was going to be in Phoenix anyway, but yes.” He hissed out a breath.
Oh…And, of course, a man like Bennett didn’t need the money. So it had been for sport. A race to see who could get her in bed first. Just some sort of challenge to make life a little more interesting.
She felt the cramp of humiliation in her gut, the ache of rage in her head, and a deep sadness in her heart. It was bad enough that those horrible, rich bastards had only seen her as some sort of trophy fuck and had laughed behind her back as they all tried to get her to crack open her legs. But this? Bennett was one of them?
“Then I think we’re done,” she whispered.
He nodded, still refusing to look at her. And then he disappeared down the hall.
Taylor returned inside her room, sat down on the bed, and began to cry.
CHAPTER 11
It took about an hour for Taylor to talk herself off the ledge overlooking the dark ominous ocean filled with pity and low self-esteem. Yes, the sting and hurt were still alive and kicking, but the modicum of pride she clung to wouldn’t allow them—those horrible, horrible men—to damage her like this.
That boat might’ve sailed. Truth was, she’d never be able to face her ex-clients, who were never real clients. And anyone she knew professionally probably laughed behind her back because they’d heard the rumors. To make matters worse, she’d come all the way to Tokyo with Bennett Wade, probably making it seem like her “services” included way more than simple consulting.
Oh, God. I can’t believe this. She had no idea what she was going to do. Yes, you do. She sighed and looked at her bank account balance on her cellphone. You’re going to file for bankruptcy.
Dressed in jeans, her comfy black flats, and a soft gray sweater, she grabbed her rolling suitcase, laptop bag, and purse and headed for the elevator. She’d checked out of the room already—yes, and said goodbye to her fancy toilet, which oddly now spoke in a male voice (Had Bennett changed it for her?)—and used the remaining balance on her last credit card to book a flight home. Two thousand eight hundred fucking dollars. She was now officially broke. A loser. A failure.
No! Don’t you go there, Tay. Don’t you jump into that pity-ocean with the little pity-fish and pink pity-seashells. As she made her way toward the subway—a much cheaper option versus a cab at rush hour—she reminded herself that many people went through life and didn’t even try. She’d at least attempted to do something. Failed big-time, but she’d taken the risk.
Oh really? You settler! You settled for a job you didn’t want, you settled for dating men who didn’t make you feel anything, and now you’re settling again. You’re letting those rich a-holes get in the way of something you really wanted to do: help others. There were millions of people in the world who worked for these companies that made them feel…well, unhappy, undervalued, invisible, and disposable.
She shook her head. Sadly, those in a position to change things weren’t interested. They mostly just seemed interested in being a-holes. Still, that doesn’t mean you give up, does it?
She didn’t know. Right now she was an emotional void and needed time to figure it all out.
Suitcase in hand, she stared at the giant map of the Tokyo subway and groaned as hordes of people—Japanese men in gray suits, woman in conservative work outfits,