Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire #4)(52)

He’d made a fool out of himself over a woman before. He couldn’t risk doing it again.

If she wanted his money, he’d give it to her. She could have the big house, the status and parties, as long as he could have her. No, he wasn’t proud of his weakness for her, but he was jaded enough to believe he could manage it. So, she wasn’t who he’d thought she was. Weren’t most people a disappointment anyway? At least this time he’d be going into the union with his eyes open.

She’d returned all his smaller gifts, so he’d brought out the big guns and they’d worked. She might have protested in public, but in the end she’d asked him to stay, just as he’d known she would. After all, money made almost anything forgivable.

He flopped an arm over his eyes and sighed. He should be happier than he felt. He could probably say anything to her at this point and she’d agree to be with him simply because he’d dangled marriage in front of her. Even if he insisted on a prenup, she would likely jump at the chance to walk down the aisle with him.

He’d gotten the answers he came for. Disappointment in her, though, wasn’t enough to change the fact that he wanted her. He just needed have more realistic expectations.

He turned onto his side and propped his head up on one hand. Gently, he moved a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. She shifted to meet his gaze, looking as miserable as he felt. That’s not a good sign.

“Why?” she asked hoarsely.

“Why what?”

“Why are you angry with me?”

Her question knocked the wind right out of him. She understood him in a way no one else did, and that realization only confused him more. “How could I be after what we just shared?”

“I don’t know.” A tear slid out of the corner of her eye and fell silently on the pillow below her head.

He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her against his chest. Had he been too rough? She’d seemed to enjoy it. “Sage, what’s wrong?”

She buried her face in his chest. “Besides everything?”

“Talk to me, Sage. Did I hurt you?”

She lifted her face. “Right now? No. No, that was all good. Great, even. But—”

“But?” Relief flooded him that she’d enjoyed herself as well.

She sat up and covered herself with part of the blanket. “Don’t you think you owe me an apology or an explanation or something about pretending to be someone you’re not?”

He shrugged and said what he didn’t want to believe. “You knew who I was.”

“I didn’t.”

He raised a hand to cover one cheek. “So if I do this, I look like an entirely different man?”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “I had no reason to doubt you were who you said you were.”

That would have been easier to believe had he not seen her face in the alley. “Then it must have been a shock to see me outside your window without my scar.”

She frowned at him. “Not for the reason you’re implying. I figured out who you were when I saw you on the news.”

“Of course you did.”

She moved off the bed to stand above him, hands on hips, looking gloriously beautiful even with fury spitting from her eyes. “Enough with the snide little comments. If you have something to say, say it. What exactly do you think is going on between us?”

He moved to sit up on the side of the bed. “Nothing unusual. You’re fucking me because I’m rich.” She slapped him clean across the face then. He shook his head at the sting of it. “What was that for?”

She retrieved her bra from the floor and put it on, then angrily pulled her shirt on and buttoned it. “Don’t say another word. Not one more word.” He stood and reached for her, but she pushed away from him and kept getting dressed instead. She’d just finished tying her shoes when she said, “Wait, where am I going? This is my apartment. You need to leave.”

She meant it. She started picking up his clothing and throwing it at him. He caught each item easily. “Sage, obviously, I could have expressed that better. What I mean is that I don’t care how long you knew my real name. I don’t care why you’re with me. I enjoy being with you, and I know you enjoy being with me. You don’t have to pretend to be upset. Pack your stuff and come home with me.”

She picked up one of his shoes and sent it sailing toward his head. He ducked just in time.

“Get dressed and get the fuck out,” she snarled.

He put on his clothes, mostly because she looked like she might go homicidal if he didn’t. “You don’t have to do this, Sage.”

She walked out of her bedroom.

He followed as soon as he had his shoes on. She was already at the door of her apartment, holding it open. Her face was flushed. Her breasts heaved in anger. She’d never looked more beautiful . . . except possibly when she’d orgasmed beneath him. She didn’t, however, look as if she’d want to hear that observation.

Her voice was tight as she said, “I thought you and I had something special. I thought you understood me like no one else ever had, but I was wrong. I don’t care how much money a person has. You know that. Or you should. I shouldn’t have slept with you. I thought maybe, somewhere in there was the man I was falling in love with. But Wayne Easton doesn’t exist, does he? I’m an optimistic idiot. So, please, go. I don’t ever want to see you again.”