Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sydney
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Mr. Scott leaned over the counter; his hands held up his chin. “They raised the price to hold a spot at the gallery next weekend. We don’t have enough to enter.”
My heart dropped. “How much do you need?”
“Three thousand.”
Three thousand. Shit. Nervously, I pushed my hair behind my ears. “Did they say why?”
“No, I just got a letter in the mail today saying the price had gone up due to the cost of the event itself.”
I had only around three thousand left of my money from Cash because I’d paid off two semesters of my student loans. I wanted to sell my things; I’d taken all of my leftover emotions and finished my last painting. I was proud of it, and I wanted to sell it. Seeing it only brought back painful memories. I could ask my parents but I wasn’t talking to my mother, and dad would never give it to me anyway.
“I have an idea,” I whispered.
Mr. Scott lifted his brows, his heavy glasses moving up with them. “What is it?”
I smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Scott. I’ll take care of it.”
I called the receptionist desk late Friday afternoon to talk to Katy. There was no way I could hear his voice over the phone just yet; I needed to prepare myself first. She told me she’d get him the message about me finishing the paintings in Dallas.
I didn’t want to go with him, be near him, or even be in the same room, but I had no fucking choice. It was the only way I could earn enough money, fast enough, to enter in the show.
When the taxi dropped me off at the airport, my nerves drummed in my ears. Cash had called several times a day for the two weeks since I’d seen him last, but I never answered.
It took swallowing my pride to do it, to take his money, but we needed it. Joey stood by the limo in front of the airplane, his same stance and deadpan look. I knew Cash stood beside him, but I ignored him, which was hard because he stared at me.
I felt his eyes all over my body. I’d taken a lot of time to get ready that morning. My jeans were tight on me, hugging me in every place that I knew they needed to. The low-cut red shirt was snug, and my tan boots stopped at my knee. I’d taken way too long on my hair, but it was long and straight down my back.
Cash’s fingers tightened at his sides, those too-green eyes pierced into me like knives. By the time I reached him, I knew he’d undressed me three times in his head. He’d better get used to it, because that was the only undressing I’d be doing for him.
“Ms. Henry,” Joey said.
“Do not fuckin’ call me that,” I snapped his direction. I sensed Cash’s shoulders tighten, and I saw his white button-down stretch over his muscles.
“I’m sorry,” Joey said. “Sydney.”
I didn’t make eye contact with either of them. “We can leave now,” I said, dropping my suitcase and walking up the stairs. I felt both of their stares on me as I disappeared into the cabin of the plane. I took three deep breaths, trying to loosen the knot in my chest.
I quickly found my seat in the corner of the large cream-colored sectional. Memories of him above me slithered in. I’d loved the way he felt against me, his rough fingertips pressing against my soft skin.
“Sydney.”
My heart stopped beating for three seconds, and somehow my eyes found their way to his. Electricity coursed through my blood. I couldn’t help from tracing the hard lines of his face, and the muscles that strained in his forearm from his tightened hands. “What?”
He swallowed, taking a few steps toward me. “I want to talk about what happened.”
Bile crawled up my throat, leaving a burning fire in its wake. “I came here to finish this mural Cash, and for no other reason. I need the money, to be honest, and this was the only way to get it on such short notice. Now, I’d love to make this quick trip to Dallas a pleasant one. If you want me to sit somewhere else, I will. But I am not talkin’ about what happened.”
He tilted his chin up; his teeth ground hard into one another. The urge to control the situation had him on edge. He wanted—craved—it like I had once craved him. “I want you to understand,” he whispered, dropping his guard. Those eyes pierced into my heart but only drove the ice pick deeper.
“Well, tough shit,” I said. “I don’t understand, and I’m one hundred percent sure that nothing you say will change that.”
He opened his mouth at the same time the pilot announced over the intercom. Relief swept me. While he took a seat across from me, I went to dig in my bag for my sketchbook and froze. I’d left it somewhere …
“Here,” he said. I lifted my eyes but not my head. At the end of that magically toned arm was my sketchbook. I’d left it in his office the day I found out. I shoved it into my bag, feeling my skin burn with humiliation. I grabbed one of the huge pillows from the corner, kicked off my shoes, and curled into a ball on the couch. I needed to close my eyes before the threatening tears escaped me again. I could feel him staring at me, my body hummed like he was, but I was too scared to open my eyes to see. The inside of my eyelids felt like a safer place to look than into those too-green eyes. I guess there was a reason monsters had green eyes in cartoons; they were preparing us for the truth of the real world. Only this beast wasn’t hairy or covered in mud. He was beautiful and covered in desire. I guess evil really is a beautiful temptation.
When we arrived at the hotel, I was thankful for the two separate rooms. Though they were joined by a combining door, I felt safe knowing I didn’t have to sleep near him.
After lunch, we rode in silence to the building. He’d had the hotel staff lug all of my paints into the car, and back out for me. The huge white canvas when you walked in was an artist’s daydream. I’d once thought I’d paint something that matched Cash’s eyes on that wall, but things had changed.
Everything had changed.
“I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” Cash said from behind me.
I didn’t turn, but I knew he drew closer from the scent of his skin. “Sydney,” he whispered.
I turned my head to left to let him know I was listening, but it wasn’t enough. He gripped my elbow and spun me around to face him. His mouth was too close, his touch too perfect. “Please talk to me,” he whispered. The minty smell of his breath touched my mouth, and I felt my thighs weaken.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I can’t.”
“Open your eyes, please,” the last word come out in a whisper. “I don’t deserve any of this, but I need it. I need you.”
Anger reared its ugly head, and I shoved against his chest, not stopping until I slapped him across his face. He didn’t move, or let go of me; he drew me tighter, and I hated it. I hated that I wanted it. “I know you’re hurting. Joey told me about it, Cash, but I can’t help you. I can’t be with you, or around you. Let me finish this painting so I can leave for good.”
His brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he let out a harsh breath. “Peach, I can’t. I only took the deal because—”
“To benefit yourself,” I snapped, jerking away from him. “You only did any of this to benefit you, Cash. I would never have treated someone like that. I fucking hate you!” I screamed. “This is why I don’t do relationships. This is why I didn’t want to work for you!”
I shook where I stood against the receptionist’s desk. My insides trembled, but I was proud that I hadn’t backed down. As badly as I wanted to take comfort in his arms, I couldn’t. “Sydney—”
“Sir, is everything okay?” I heard from the stairwell. Heat warmed my cheeks. I’d forgotten that the construction workers were upstairs taking their lunch.
“Everything is fine,” Cash said, never taking his eyes off of mine. “You’re right. I don’t deserve you, Sydney, but you’re the only person that’s made me feel anything.” He reached out but withdrew his hand. “I’m going to make you understand that. I have to.”
I dropped my gaze to the cool, white tile beneath us. That’s what I was afraid of. “I need to start so I can finish by tomorrow. Please leave.”
I watched the floor until I heard the sound of Cash’s soft footsteps grow quieter. When I knew no one could see, I dropped to the floor and buried my face into my hands and cried.
I didn’t get back to the hotel until eleven that night. Cash had dinner delivered to me but didn’t come over. I was thankful for the silence; it helped me get half of my painting finished. It was darker than the others, but it still reflected their business. I might have hated him, but I did have a job to do.
I’d painted the midnight sky filled with stars, and a grassy field swaying in a wind that I wished touched my skin. Cash stared at the painting for a long time before he locked the door and got into the cab with me. I stared out the window, my fingers interlaced in my lap.
That had been two hours before. Now I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, hoping that the night would swallow me whole. Wishing everything would have turned out—
A scream ripped through the air, and my breath escaped me. I sat up straight, staring at the door that adjoined our rooms. Had Cash screamed like that? Or had I imagined it? After a few seconds, I heard the rustling of something and decided against my better judgment to hurry over to his room.
It took moments for my eyes to adjust, but when they did I found Cash tangled up in his sheets, a sleepy look on his face. But more than that, he looked scared out of his mind. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
I tried not to look at the way his muscles tightened with each breath or the fact that he didn’t have on a shirt. The moonlight was the only light and it cast shadows over his jagged face. “Nothing,” he rasped.
He shook his head, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “You screamed. Did you see someone? Or have a nightmare?”
Cash lifted his eyes, and swallowed hard. “A nightmare.”
I’d had plenty of those in my life. I wanted to think of something to say, but everything seemed to escape me. “I’m fine, you can go back to bed,” he said.
He wasn’t fine. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his body still shook. Swallowing, I shut the door behind me and walked slowly over to his bed. He stared at me the entire time, making my body quake with nerves. He didn’t deserve a look, a touch, or any sympathy, but he’d been there to hold me when my mother tossed me under the table, and when my brother’s death was too much for me to handle.
I wanted to return the shoulder to cry on, even if it meant it would be hard to pull away from him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Cash leaned forward; his husky scent tickled my skin. “I—” his voice broke, along with my heart.
I hated him so much, but the sound of his broken voice sent my arms around him. I ignored the way my body reacted to being so close to him. His body shivered against mine, I held him like he’d held me, and let him sob himself to sleep.