I jerk my hand away, cutting him off. “Don’t!”
“Bella,” he begins, though doesn’t finish. Likely because he sees how upset I am.
I can’t even look at him. All the words I want to say escape me.
It wasn’t enough that I agreed to be his wife, because of some stupid will, but he intended to go one step further and trick me into getting pregnant.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The rest of the ride is quiet. There’s so much I want to tell her, but I use this time to let her collect her thoughts and calm down.
Yeah. I fucked up. What’s new? I always fuck up. In a desperate attempt to keep her forever, at the possibility of her not agreeing to marry me, I made her think we were having protected sex, when really I was giving her medication to stimulate her ovaries. It’s a safe medicine and has been known to aid in conception.
It was an asshole move, but at the time, I didn’t care. Before Bella came to the island, I had the perfect plan laid out. I never intended to fall for her as hard as I did. If I’d known then that we could have a relationship built on trust instead of lies, I would have never done half the shit I did.
With the extra time, I was able to make a call to my new attorney, who’s getting a new will drawn up for me as we speak. After reviewing my former will and testament, along with the contract Byron and I both signed, he’s made it clear I’ll be paying Byron a nice chunk of change for breaching the contract. I’ve agreed to the terms, but I also know that Byron won’t be getting shit from me.
My accounts are in the process of transferring back to me, and I relinquished my rights to press charges against Byron. He’ll get what’s coming to him, and it won’t involve any law enforcement.
We arrive at the hotel and it’s past midnight. I fully expected Bella to fall asleep, but I don’t think she’s even blinked since I was truthful with her about the pills. Well, somewhat truthful. I’m not sure if she knows what they really were, but she does know that they weren’t birth control pills.
I place a hand on her leg. She doesn’t even flinch. “The driver will get our bags. Let me take you up to our room.”
She scoffs, slides across the seat and exits the door opposite me.
My head drops, a pang burning in my chest and a sigh slipping through my lips. “Okay, then,” I mumble. It seems she’s going to make this harder than I expected.
“Eighth floor suite,” I tell Gustav, the driver, who’s lugging our bags onto a cart. “Oh, and I hope you enjoyed the show. You’re fired.” I don’t even wait for a bitter expression or angry reply. I walk in through the automatic double doors, past the front desk, where a short brunette is biting into a crumbly muffin.
She has no idea who I am and I don’t make my identity known. Right now, it’s best to keep things under wraps. Bella and I both need to lay low until Byron is found.
I find Bella sitting on a beige sofa in the common room across from the elevators. Her arms are crossed over her chest, legs crossed at the knee, and the wry look on her face has creased her forehead.
I stick my hand out to her, though she’s at least ten feet away. “Come on.”
Blowing out a breath of annoyance, she gets up and walks toward me, bypassing my hand and standing directly in front of the elevator.
“Do you plan on being this much of a grump ass our entire stay?”
She huffs. “A grump ass? Why not use the word on the tip of your tongue—a bitch?”
I bite back a smile. “Okay. Do you plan on being this much of a bitch our entire stay?”
Her nostrils flare and she stomps a foot. “Did you just call me a bitch?”
Is she serious right now? “Yeah. Because you told me to.”
“No. I was implying that you shouldn’t lie.”
I’m suddenly reminded why I’ve never had a relationship, or wanted one.
We take the elevator up and Bella walks slowly behind, following me to our suite. The entire eighth floor is ours. We have everything we need up here. Six of the eleven hotels I own have one floor specifically for me. All being the eighth floor. There’s no rhyme or reason for it; I’ve just always liked the number eight.
Okay. I guess there is a reason.
I moved to The Webster House on the eighth day of the month. Bella was adopted on the eighth. I moved in with the Ellis family on the eighth. I killed my adopted father on the eighth. Some would say those are reasons to hate that number, but I use those incidents as a reminder of why I keep my walls up.
Slowing my steps, I wait for Bella to catch up. When she does, I place my hand on the small of her back. She grumbles under her breath but makes no attempt to remove it. “I’m sorry,” I finally say, hating the way those words sound coming from me. I don’t apologize often and when I do, it’s because I truly mean it.
Her eyes roll but no nasty comment follows. We’re making progress.
I use my master key to unlock the door. It’s one key used to enter all the rooms. I have one for each resort—Cori Cove being the exception, since it’s not finished, and we’re still using skeleton keys.
I’m not sure what I’ll do with that place now. Not even sure I want to open it up to the public. I bought it because it had special meaning to Peter. The entire process was planned with Bella in mind. I’d bring her there. Force her into marriage. Keep her there. I’m not sure when shit went awry, but plans changed fast when I fell in love with her. Then she reciprocated that love and days later, she was ripped out of my arms.
And here we are. Back together but miles apart.
We walk into the suite. It’s the size of an apartment, with all the furnishings. A living room, full-size kitchen with all stainless-steel appliances, one bedroom, and two bathrooms. The best thing about this hotel is the view overlooking the city. I’m not a fan of the hustle and bustle of city life, but I can handle looking at the glowing lights atop the buildings from this viewpoint.
Bella must’ve caught a glimpse because she walks over to the patio doors and stretches the blinds open.
I come up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, chin pressed to her shoulder. “What do you think?”
There’s a beat of silence before she turns around. My chin lifts, but my hands never leave her waist.
Her tear-soaked eyes speak volumes about how she’s feeling. My heart stings at the sight. “Why’d you do it?”
My thumb sweeps under her eyelid, catching a tear before it falls. “I was scared of losing you again.” It’s the truth, as painful as it is to admit.
“But you had me. I was there.”
I give her more truth, and it hurts like hell. “We once made a pack and a promise of forever, and you left me. How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t leave me again?”
“I was a kid!”
“You made a choice.” My hands drop from her waist. I run my fingers through my hair. “Dammit, Bella. You were given two choices: stay or leave, and you left.”
This is not going the direction I intended it to. I turn away from her and cross the room to the minibar between the kitchen and living room. I had the staff stock it with my favorite bourbon, and red wine for Bella.
I take the top off the decanter and pour myself a shot. Tipping it back, I take the contents down in one swallow.