Chapter 16: Aftermath

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Amy

Armand is quiet on the ride back to Sylvia’s condo, but I don’t care. I’d spent the remainder of the gala silly dancing with C.J., hiding from all straight men¸ and drinking entirely too much champagne.

I had to do anything to block out Marcus and the way he continued to watch me even as he escorted Paige around the venue. As enormous as the space was, my eyes were always able to find him, and his eyes were always intense, waiting to hold my gaze. My chest squeezed every time our eyes locked together, and I’d look away fast like a silly schoolgirl.

Bumping into Roland had pushed a bad night all the way to horrifyingly awful, and I’d made the proclamation that I was leaving PR work to return to finance. I had no idea if I even meant it, but at least C.J. was right at my side. Also, I wasn’t blindingly drunk this time—at least not on alcohol.

The fresh memory of being in Marcus’s arms, his mouth plundering mine, devouring my body, leaving fresh marks—all of it had me dizzy with desire and frustration.

Tired of being ignored, Armand finally approached me on the dance floor and took my arm. “Time to go, cherie.”

Slugging the last of my champagne, I kissed C.J. on both cheeks. He made some outlandish comment about coaches turning to pumpkins, but I only shook my head.

“If I lose my shoe at the ball, it’s because I’m drunk,” and with that I followed my distinguished escort out to his car to endure the silent drive home.

Now we’re at Sylvia’s building, and all I want is to go inside and try to sleep away this entire night. At the very least, I’ve got to get away from Armand’s smirk. He watches me as if some mystery has been solved. I don’t even want to know what he’s thinking.

Reaching for the door, I’m ready to fly out, but he holds my forearm. “Amalie.” His low voice ripples through the silence. I don’t look up. “At least let me tell you goodbye.”

Goodbye. Not the French au revoir, which means til we meet again. He’s giving me the American version of it’s over. It causes me to meet his eyes, and I’m relieved to see he’s not angry.

“I didn’t ask you to come here.” It’s a soft statement of fact. I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m only trying to establish the truth.

“Yes.” He releases my arm and leans back in the leather seat of the Towncar. “Still, I’m glad I came. It seems my path is different than I originally thought.”

I don’t know what he means, but he seems to be letting me go. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“No pain, ma petite. Only loss.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of my fingers. “Our memories will always be beautiful.”

Taking my hand back, I don’t say more. I skip out and make my way to Sylvia’s condo. Sylvia’s asleep. Of course she is—it’s after midnight.

Closing my bedroom door, I’m hit with a mixture of relief and loss. I don’t want him back—I didn’t even want him in Chicago. With a shuddering inhale, I face the truth. God, all I want is Marcus.

I allow my dress to slide from my shoulders, leaving me completely nude. Eyes closed, my head rocks from too much champagne. But not more than enough—all my memories are intact, and I remember vividly where my panties are.

Will he go home with her? Can he possibly sleep with her after what we did? My guts churn with the idea that he might touch her, kiss her, make her come. Tears flood my eyes, despite how hard I try to fight them. He could very well do that. I’ve seen men act one way and just as quickly shut off the feelings they swear are so real.

I’ve witnessed betrayal firsthand.

Pushing through the blankets, I curl into a ball and allow the tears to fall. I want to believe him so much, but everything in me fights against allowing him to possess me.

His words filter back, haunting me. Just try.

Eyes closed, my brain continues to sway, and my dreams float to a boat beneath Lake Michigan, to the best weekend of my life.

* * *

Marcus

I’m back in my “ridiculous” office, but Amy’s not here. I’m not sure where I stand with her. I said I wouldn’t force her. Hell, I said I wouldn’t chase her, and then I took off from the gala after her like a lion on a gazelle. I’ve given up trying to figure out which of my declarations are true and which are total bullshit.

What I do know is Paige will be here any minute, and I intend to tell her it’s over. I’m done. She doesn’t need my help anymore. Karen has called off the smear campaign, and I’m ready to go back to what I was doing before our detour—securing Amy at my side. Showing her she can trust me. She’s safe with me. She’s everything I want.

We’re both caged in this society bullshit, but at the same time, she couldn’t be more separate. She fights their pretensions and wins with easy transparency. What you see is what you get, and it’s stellar and amazing. She turns heads without even trying. It’s the only reason I can fathom they hate her.

I intend to protect her from them.

“Paige Goldfarb to see you.” Charity’s voice chirps through my musings.

“Send her back.” I wake my computer and click through our new and improved website.

It’s smooth and incredibly streamlined, considering all the new images and information we added. It’s seamless. Each page leads logically to the next. I can’t help wondering if she really plans to return to finance, and if she does, will she leave the city? I will not let that happen.

Paige breezes into my office wearing a slim-fit navy sheath dress with cap sleeves. She’s the picture of conformity—except for the snakeskin needlepoint heels. I can’t stop a grin at her sheer command of the situation. Amy would love Paige. I’m sure of it—if I could only explain everything to her, which I gave my word I wouldn’t.

Paige sits for a moment in silence. A frown crosses her brow, and I decide to own what happened. “Sorry for being out of the loop Saturday night.”

“That’s one way to put it.” She’s in the mustard leather chair across from me, and her frown softens into humorous chastisement.

My door is open, so I don’t get too specific. “Where do we stand?”

She smiles. “I’d say your work here is done.”

“Really?” My eyebrow arches. “I confess. I never had much faith in your plan.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of humiliation.” I catch a glimpse of the annoyance she brought with her, and I backpedal.

“I didn’t have time to consider how it might look for you.”

“You mean your dramatic exit followed by the return of Miss Knight looking thoroughly... manhandled? Why should you consider me?”

Standing I go to the door and quickly push it shut. “You’re saying everyone knows what happened?”

“I don’t know about everyone, but the people who mattered had a fairly easy time putting two and two together.”

With a deep exhale, I drop into my chair. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

When she said my work was done, I’d assumed it was because she’d been accepted. Instead of storming around in anger, however, she leans back and smiles.

“Don’t look so worried. You actually finished whatever you started at Studio O.” Confusion is clear on my face, and she continues. “Whatever Amy Knight did to Karen, it must’ve been pretty bad because the idea of you screwing around with her while you’re supposed to be dating me turned us into instant besties.”

I can’t hide my grimace. “I can’t think of anything worse.”

“I know!” She laughs off my disgust. “I’m considering using the opportunity to tell her what I really think of her bullshit.”

“Hang on...” I have to hand it to Paige, every word she’s said has knocked me off balance since she walked through the door. “What about your future children?”

“Which leads us to the second thing that happened after you disappeared.”

“Which was—?”

“I met the most amazing man.” She blinks down, but not before I catch the glow in her eyes. Her expression likely mirrors mine when I think of Amy. “Anyway, as a result, Karen can go straight to hell.”

I know I should be pissed at her for stealing my time on a ploy that she has obviously abandoned, but I’m not. I’m truly happy for her.

“Good for you. Anyone I know?”

“Possibly.” She gives me a little grin. “We spent Saturday night together and all day yesterday.”

“Wait.” My brow lines as I recall taking her back to her condo following the gala. “I took you home—”

“And I called a car and went to the Drake. He’s staying in the presidential suite.”

“Damn, girl.” Rubbing my chin, I have to hand it to her. “You didn’t need me at all.”

“Not true. I wouldn’t have been at the gala without you.” She looks over my shoulder, out the window. “Thank you for that. For the past weeks.”

“For Saturday night and Sunday? You’re very welcome.”

A naughty grin slides across her lips. “I’m not used to finding a man who can keep up with me.”

“I know you’re not talking about me.” Sleeping with Paige was a bridge I would not cross as long as Amy was a possibility.

Her eyes twinkle, and she even laughs. “I am not. I’m here today to, quote, end things with you, even though everyone presumes I’m angry, which I’m not.”

“That’s a relief.” I give her a wink. “After that?”

“He has his own situation to resolve, then he’s headed to New York on business. I’ll accompany him as far as Manhattan and see where we go from there.”

Watching her sit across from me, exuding confidence in her navy dress and snakeskin heels, I have to repeat what I’ve already said before. “You never needed me. You’re fine all by yourself.”

“We all need somebody. Figuring out who we can trust is the primary battle.” She stands and picks up her clutch. “Let me know if I can ever return the favor.”

I stand and hold out my hand. “Take care of yourself.”

She smiles and we shake. A flick of blonde hair, and she’s out my door, leaving me with one thing on my mind—Amy.