Quentin James was frowning down at his shoes and trousers.
He looked up, irritation mixed with something akin to smugness. “Not exactly how I was planning for us to meet.”
“What are you doing here?”
The loud buzz of traffic blared behind me, drawing his annoyed gaze. “Let’s walk.”
“Let’s not.” I stepped back. “Move out of my way.”
“Is that any way to greet an old lover?” He smirked.
Staring into his dark eyes, I wondered how I could have been so naïve as to once think he had the eyes of a poet. Dear God, I was such an idiot. Once upon a time, I’d thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen with his perfect thick hair waved back from his face and full mouth like a sullen male model’s. His irresponsible lifestyle seemed to have caught up with him, however, because there were deep lines in his face that hadn’t been there before, and his hair was almost completely gray.
He used to have a year-round smooth tan; now he was pale, and his cheekbones looked hollow, like he’d lost quite a bit of weight.
“I thought when you stopped calling and sending me flowers that you’d finally gotten the message than I’m not interested in talking with you ever, let alone reconciling.”
“Oh, we’re past that,” he narrowed his eyes on me, “since you started spreading for someone higher up the food chain.”
Rage coursed through me. “It was never about that for me, you son of a bitch.”
He tsked. “I wouldn’t piss me off, darling. I hold all your dreams of marrying a Lexington in my hands.”
As quickly as I’d flushed with anger, I was suddenly chilled to the bone. “What do you want?”
Quentin scowled. “I’m in a bit of financial bother. Some gambling debts.”
I waited, a knot tightening in my stomach.
“I saw how well you were doing for yourself and thought maybe you might have the money to help me, but you aren’t the doe-eyed girl I remember. So I found the money elsewhere.”
Revulsion that I’d slept with this man, a man who had chased me down after years only to get money out of me, rolled through my stomach. “What the hell are you doing here now?”
“I’m in trouble again. And apparently, you’re practically engaged to one of the wealthiest men on the East Coast.”
A ringing sounded in my ears. Astonishment. Disbelief. What the fuck? “Seriously?”
“Let’s not make a scene.”
God, he was such a smarmy, sleazy asshole! How could it be possible that his grimy hands had touched me?
“I hate you.”
“I couldn’t give a damn.” He sighed impatiently. “I’m just going to lay it out for you. I need fifty thousand dollars. You’re going to return to that crappy little apartment of yours and tell the man who is currently inside of it that you’re in trouble and need the money. If you don’t, I will tell him who you really are and what you’re really capable of.”
He’d been watching me. Us. Nausea surged and only my anger kept it at bay. “I didn’t do anything.”
Hatred burned out of his eyes. “We both know that’s not true. You ruined lives. Why should you get to ride off into a fairy tale while the rest of us are destroyed?”
Furious tears stung my nose and eyes. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m resourceful. There’s a difference.” He stepped to the side, gesturing for me to pass. “You’ve got forty-eight hours until I knock on your door.”
Shooting him one last murderous glare, I hurried past, needing to put as much distance between us as possible. I spent the rest of the walk back to my apartment alternating between looking over my shoulder and screaming inside my own head.
I didn’t know what to do.
What the hell did I do?
Once inside, I found Henry still asleep. Leaving him there, I put our baked goods in the kitchen and then quietly shut the door to my bedroom to change out of my coffee-covered jeans. My hands shook the entire time.
I made my way into the living room again and sat down in the armchair across from Henry, cuddling my knees to my chest.
There was no question now as I looked at him about what I’d do. In reality, there had never been a question.
I would not be blackmailed and I wouldn’t resort to extorting money from the man I loved.
Instead, finally, I was going to face what I’d known I would have to face all along.
The truth about who I once had been.
She wasn’t someone I was proud of but she also wasn’t me anymore. And I had to hope that Henry would see that. That he would forgive me for hurting an innocent person as badly as I had.
I don’t know how long I sat there, watching him sleep, waiting with knots in my stomach for him to wake up and thrust us into cold reality.
Finally, I heard his breathing change, he made a little groan, and he slowly turned on the couch. His sleepy eyes snagged on me sitting in the corner and he rubbed his forehead. “What time is it?”
I glanced at the clock on the radio. “One thirty.”
He groaned again and sat up, running his hands through his hair. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he finished on a yawn.
When I didn’t respond, Henry looked over at me, studied me, and quickly grew alert. “What’s going on?”
My lips trembled. Every part of me was shaking. “Something,” my voice croaked and I cleared it, “something happened while you were sleeping.”
Henry threw off the throw and swung his feet to the floor. “What?”
I didn’t answer.
“Nadia, you’re chalk white. What happened?”
“I went to Flour and I got your banana bread. It’s in the kitchen. I got some cinnamon crème brioche too for me,” I recounted inanely. “And coffee. But it got spilled because… I bumped into someone. Someone I knew once.”
His brows creased in confusion. “Who?”
“His name is Quentin James. Professor Quentin James.” I released my knees and sat forward, expelling a shuddering breath. “Henry… I’m in trouble, I think. This man…” I looked at my feet. “He’s… I need to start at the beginning.”
“Nadia, look at me.”
“I can’t.” Tears escaped beneath my lids. “I’m ashamed and I can’t look at you and watch your expression when I tell you what I have to tell you. I… went to college in Florida. One of my favorite professors was Quentin James and in my senior year, we grew close.” I remembered the day we’d met in his office to discuss some connections he had in Florida in broadcasting. He’d been off, acting distracted, and at first I’d put it down to the fact that he’d separated from his wife not long ago, something he’d told me a few months before. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he knew it was wrong, but he had feelings for me.
“I’d been so excited, so naïve. We started an affair. He told me that he and his wife had been separated and that he was falling in love with me. And like an idiot, I believed him.”
“Nadia, look at me.”
I shook my head. “It went on for months and then one night we were fooling around in his office when someone let themselves in. His wife let herself in.” I closed my eyes remembering the way she crumbled in pain upon finding us together. Her anguish. Her hurt. And worse… “His pregnant wife.”