Her jaw trembled as more tears coursed down her pale cheeks, her gaze focused on the street and the passing cars. After a very tense silence, she finally nodded.
He let out a shuddering exhale, only somewhat relieved. “Please, don’t leave the apartment. I’ll meet you there.”
His driver pulled up and walked around the hood to open the back door. Faith wasted no time sliding inside. Her gaze trained down, she twisted her fingers in her lap.
Alec closed the door himself. “Take her back to the apartment. Watch until she gets inside.” He paused. “You know what?” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Walk her to the apartment door and make sure she gets in safely.”
“Will do, sir.”
Jaw clenched, he watched her pull away, staring at the street long after she’d disappeared from view. He was damn close to saying the hell with it and taking a cab right after her, but his publisher had given him quite a bit of leeway with the new series and he owed them. Although he loathed the crowds, it was part of his job and damn unprofessional to walk away.
Turning, he caught Henry Swift hailing a cab.
“You son of a bitch . . .”
Henry’s eyes widened. He dove into the cab and slammed the door.
Alec yelled through the window. “We have a confidentiality agreement. You break it again, I’ll sue you for twice the amount I made you the past ten years. You hear me?”
The cab pulled away, but not before the color drained from Henry’s face and the slimy bastard nodded his understanding. He wasn’t looking so smug and superior now.
Jesus. The damage was already done. Alec should’ve fired him years ago. Why the hell hadn’t he?
Behind him, a few patrons exited the hotel, reminding him he didn’t have time for brooding. The sooner he got the party over with, the sooner he could try to explain Laura to Faith.
He made his way back inside the ballroom and, upon seeing him, his editor quickly walked to the podium to make introductions. Through his brief reading, pats on the back afterward, and subsequent two-hour signing, Alec was ready to tear his hair out. By the fistful. His mind kept straying to what Faith might be doing, thinking. Part of him feared she’d be gone when he returned. She’d been so damn calm. She was always calm. Why didn’t she yell at him? Slap his cheek? Hell, any significant sign of anger would’ve been better than the shell shock.
As his driver guided them through the busy streets, acid ate away at his gut. Aside from Jake, he’d never talked about Laura with anyone. Not when it happened and not after. By process of elimination and through the grapevine, his parents and former agent knew the details. But their prompts to try and get Alec to discuss the accident fell on deaf ears. What happened was off-limits.
Until now.
A thousand explanations tore through his mind, but none of them measured up. There was no sugarcoating this story. Once Faith knew the whole of it, she would walk away from this relationship before it had even begun. He was sure of it.
And why did that bother him so much? It wasn’t as if he could put a ring on her finger and promise her forever. Even if he wanted to—which, Christ, did he?—there was no future beyond August.
He rubbed at his tired eyes, not recognizing this sensation that had been swirling in his chest since he first saw Faith on the beach weeks ago. It was a warning he should’ve heeded. Laura had never, not once, made him feel like this. Like he needed to see her to breathe freely, to touch her to prove she was real. To crawl inside her mind to find all the clever, quirky little thoughts within. The need to claim her, have her begging and chanting his name while he drove into her, had the blood roaring through his veins.
Falling for Faith would be selfish. Inevitable, it seemed, but selfish nonetheless.
Alec waved off the driver when he pulled to the curb outside the apartment and started to get out to open the door for him. He gave the man a hefty tip for his trouble and opened the door himself.
Alec paused before exiting. “The lady, how was she when you drove her back?”
The driver turned in his seat and regarded Alec with sympathetic eyes. “She cried quietly the entire way, sir. Never said a word. I went with her up to your penthouse and made sure she went inside.”
Alec nodded and thanked the man. Nausea churned in his stomach until a cold sweat broke out on his forehead and his palms grew clammy.
He’d made her cry. Faith had enough in her life to cause that—she didn’t need him adding more reasons.
The lobby attendant stopped him before he hit the bank of elevators. “Mr. Winston. I have your keys, sir.”
His keys. Right. He’d given them to Faith. His heart puttered behind his ribs, just wanting to get to her. “Did she leave?”
“Not that I saw, Mr. Winston. She handed them to me and said to make sure you could get back inside.”
He shook his head. Damn her to heaven and back. How could she be so considerate after what he’d done? Hell, any other woman would have trashed his place and left fifty screeching voice mails on his phone. With every given right.
Alec took the keys and rode the elevator to the penthouse, hoping to God she hadn’t left. Where would she go? The airport? A hotel? He’d find her, regardless.
The apartment was dark and quiet. Too quiet. His anxiety upped ten notches. He strode through the living room and to his bedroom where a bedside lamp cast a soft glow into the hall. He stopped short.
Not only had she not left, she hadn’t even changed clothes. The elegant black dress still adorned her thin frame, but her heels were placed neatly by the closet door and her hair was out of the twist. Soft brown strands fell around her shoulders. She stood by the bay window with her back to him and her arms crossed.
At a loss, he just stood there.
“I hate this place.” Her mermaid voice wafted over to him.
He understood. Most of the time, he hated the city, too. He wondered if he stayed to punish himself. For someone like Faith, New York would be overstimulation. Too many people, too much noise, just . . . too much everything. Strangely, he could relate.
Taking a hesitant few steps into the room, he sighed. “Faith, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for lying to me or sorry I found out?”
How very little she thought of him. Not that he could blame her. “I’m sorry I lied and I’m sorry you had to find out like that. I had every intention of telling you, but the words just never came.”
She turned, and the red of her eyes had his chest tightening. “Two words, Alec. Just two words. I’m. Engaged.”
When she put it like that . . .
“How have you kept this a secret? I mean, you’ve got a woman on your arm in nearly every tabloid. There’s not many people alive who don’t know your name, even in passing.”
He swiped a hand down his face and allowed the hurt to rise up. He had to explain to Faith in a manner she could somehow find a way to understand. He needed her to understand. Making his way to the corner, he sat in a chair to give her room and himself time to stall. He tossed his suit coat over the arm. Best to start at the beginning, he supposed.
“When I moved to the city, I’d just signed my first book deal and was living in this shitty apartment in the Lower East Side. Laura was a struggling artist who lived across the hall.” He picked at the skin around his thumbnail with his index finger. “We struck up a friendship of sorts that quickly turned into more. Neither of us expected anything other than what it was. Sex. We were young and stupid with too many dreams and not enough money.”
Faith walked over to his bed several feet away and sat on the edge of the mattress, her steady gaze holding his. Quiet understanding emanated, urging him to go on.