Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire #4)(50)

He sensed her presence, and the attention of the crowd turned to her. Instantly she was surrounded by people with cameras asking her if she was the reason Eric Westerly was there.

She shook her head while holding his gaze and shouted, “I’m sorry. You have the wrong woman. I don’t know him.”

He walked toward her with the arrogance and confidence she’d glimpsed in Wayne but without the softer side. “I’m here to rectify that.”

She didn’t want to have this or any conversation in front of a crowd of his fans. Without his scar, his Hollywood-perfect face looked alien to her. “I’m sorry. As I’ve said, you have the wrong woman.”

He held the flowers out to her. When she made no move to accept them, he threw them over his head toward the crowd. A wild dash was followed by one woman holding the red roses above her head with the triumph of some rabid bridesmaid.

They stood locked in silence while the crowd strained to hear. Several people were desperately trying to get close enough to record it on their phones. “I don’t want to do this here,” Sage said, breaking the quiet tension.

“Then come away with me. We can go anywhere, do anything. Do you want to talk about this over dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower? How about while dipping our toes in the water in Fiji? You name the place, and that’s where we’ll go.”

Her heart broke a little as she searched for but found no sign of the man she’d thought he was. “What are you doing here? What is this? I don’t understand.”

He reached for her hand, but she evaded his touch. “I’m showing you what we could have together. I’m sorry I wasn’t up front with you about my real name, but surely you can forgive me for needing to be careful. This is my life, Sage, and you could be part of it. Say yes, and you’ll never have to work another day in your life. You’ll never want for anything. You and I will travel the world together.”

Sage started shaking her head as he spoke. Nothing about the scene rang true. It wasn’t a declaration of love, and it didn’t feel like an apology. There was something burning in his eyes, but it wasn’t the desire she’d seen so many times in the past; it was—anger?

What have I done for you to be angry with me? I’m not the one who lied about who I was. I didn’t act like I cared one moment only to ditch you the next.

If she were a vindictive person, she would have thrown her questions at him right then, but even though he was breaking her heart, she didn’t want to hurt him. She’d known he wasn’t happy from the first time she’d seen him. She’d thought she could help him, but the man standing before her didn’t want help—he was there to prove something.

What?

What does he want from me?

She stepped closer and lowered her tone. This wasn’t the place or the situation in which she’d imagined them having this conversation, but he wasn’t leaving her much choice. “I don’t want flowers or gifts. I like my job and my life, so I don’t need to be rescued from either. I wanted the truth, but now I’m not even sure I want that. I don’t know you—not this you. I don’t understand what you’re doing here today. All I am sure of is that if you think I want what you’re offering, you don’t know me, and that’s the part that hurts the most.”

“I’m offering you everything, Sage.”

“Too bad it’s nothing I want,” she countered. “I’m sorry. Goodbye, Eric.”

She rushed away from him and the crowd before either could stop her. Sage ran inside, up four flights of stairs, and into her apartment. Only once she was safely inside, with her back against the door, did she give in to the emotions and questions swirling within her.

He had come to her, and she’d turned him away. Had it been the right choice?

She was still trying to catch her breath when she felt as well as heard a loud knock on her door. “Sage, open up. We need to talk,” Eric said.

She counted to ten, took several deep calming breaths, then turned and opened the door. “Wasn’t that what we just did in front of all of London?”

Still looking very much like a slick, groomed movie star, Eric walked past her. “Is that why you said no? Because there was an audience?”

She closed the door and hugged herself, trying to make sense of this new side of a man she’d thought she knew. “You lied to me.”

“You lie every day. Isn’t that what your career is all about?”

She gasped. “I didn’t lie to you. I let you in.”

“I don’t know how much of you is real and how much is a fabrication. It doesn’t matter, though. I want you in my life.”

“Doesn’t matter? What are you talking about? Who are you? Where’s the man I went to Stonehenge with?”

His hands fisted at his sides. “Wayne Easton doesn’t exist. Take a good look—this is the real me. But before you refuse me again, think about everything I could offer you. I’m not looking for a one-night stand. I want to make this work. If that means putting marriage on the table, I’ll do it.”

She shook her head again. “You don’t even sound like you like me.”

“But I want you.” He reached for her, hauling her against him. She wanted to resist, but her body came alive for him. Every single place their bodies touched sent fire licking through her. She’d dreamed of being his so many times. Sweet and tender sex . . . or rough and angry . . . it all sounded good to her right then. He leaned down and growled in her ear, “You want me just as badly.” He trailed kisses down her neck while cupping her ass and lifting her off the floor.