Chapter 23
Riley stood at the window, staring down. The famous New York City skyline winked and twinkled back at her. The skyscrapers poked up into the dark sky, and honking, crowded traffic, mostly yellow, snaked down the streets. From the 60th floor of that huge high-rise, they looked so tiny, like a little boy’s Hot Wheels, as small and childish as she suddenly felt.
Tears scalded her eyes. How is this possible? she wondered. She’d woken up that morning in Gray’s bed, in his arms, and by nightfall she’d be sleeping in her old bedroom in her parents’ penthouse apartment in New York. None of it made any sense.
All of it broke her heart.
The memory of that awful fight with Gray hammered at her heart and brain. How could he be so angry with me, when I was just trying to help? How could he accuse me of sneaking around, of being underhanded? More so, she didn’t see how his father could be such a colossal prick. Sure, her parents were self-centered jerks who never thought of anyone else, but even they wouldn’t say such hurtful things even if they were true. Jon was an ass, and Gray was acting like one. Like father, like son. Except that wasn’t exactly the case, was it?
The flight home, taken in haste and with his recriminations ringing in her ears, had been hard. Harder still was walking into the apartment to face her parents’ disapproval and the inevitable, “We told you so,” spoken with those uppity, smug, we-know-everything looks on their faces. She wanted to run away, to turn around and head right back out the door, but she had nowhere to go. She knew she could never go back to Gray, not after what he screamed at her in that hallway outside his father’s office.
Tears soaked her cheeks. Her idea had been done with good intention, but instead it had ruined whatever they’d built between them. The things Gray had said to her were almost more hurtful than that shark’s teeth would have been, she was sure of it.
Knock-knock
Riley hastily scrubbed her cheeks with one hand before calling out, “Yes?”
“Miss, your mother and father have gone out for the night, and I’m going to retire now. Please ring if you need me.”
Riley cleared her throat again. “Thank you, Louisa, but I’ll be fine. Enjoy your rest.”
“Yes, miss. Thank you,” the woman said, then gently closed the door.
Riley slumped against the large window. The opulence around her, all that gold leaf and the vast expanse in a city where space was at a premium, was enough to make her sick. She desperately longed for the simpler things, just white sand, shimmering waters, the low rhythm of reggae, and the coconut scent of suntan oil. She sighed and turned away from the panoramic view. Well, I guess this is what happens when someone does something presumptuous and stupid. She gets her heart smashed to bits and ends up in the exact same place she tried to leave behind. She paused for a moment, and her anger swelled again. Damn it! I should’ve known better than to trust someone like Gray. Or try to help his family. What the hell was I doing down there anyway, acting like some silly, love-sick tourist? She sighed. She’d chased love like a spoiled, rich child, nearly drowned in the process, and now was crying over a broken heart? She was the idiot. The only person she should be mad at was herself.
Riley checked the time. It was barely eight. At that hour, in Florida, she would’ve been laughing with or at Gray, having fun and anticipating a good, long session of kisses followed by delicious sex. Instead, she was imprisoned in the high-ceiling rooms of that penthouse, trapped by steel, glass, and a height she had never wanted to climb to again.
Frustrated and restless, Riley grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She paused for a moment as she stepped in front of the full-length mirror encased in a ridiculously overpriced antique gold frame. “Who the hell are you anyway?” she asked the reflection staring back at her. Her blonde hair was in a neat chignon. Instead of the comfortable, ratty shorts and novelty t-shirt she’d been wearing for a few days, her body was held captive in a sleek suit comprised of linen slacks and a sleeveless silk shell. Instead of the flip-flops that allowed the sun and sand to soothe her feet with their warmth, she was perched atop a pair of highly expensive, name brand sandals, with a tall, wedge heel. She shook her head again and asked, “Who are you, and why do you look so familiar? Wait. I know. You’re the woman I thought I had outrun. I guess I didn’t get very far, huh?” Then again, maybe I went too far, she thought. After all, part of her was still back in Florida, on the beach and under that tropical sun, lounging in the love she thought she knew so well.
She stomped through the apartment on her precariously high heels, click-clacking across the marble floors. Wealth met her at every turn. There was all that designer furniture, and the walls were adorned with masterpieces that cost more than some people’s homes. Where the marble stopped, like sand on the shore she missed already, an ocean of plush carpeting spanned the area. The wall-to-wall windows gave entrance to that sunlight everyone in the city talked so much about but never really took time to feel on their faces. Everything about New York was postcard-perfect. And just as flat and two-dimensional, she thought with a cringe as she walked a little faster, on a futile quest to outrun her heartache.