Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire #4)(54)

Unable to stomach another lie, Sage called bullshit. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you at all. Hey, it’s easier this way. Now you don’t have to have me arrested.”

“I shouldn’t have threatened to.”

“We agree on that, at least.”

Mrs. Westerly folded and unfolded her hands. “I was misinformed regarding your business practices. After closer inspection, I regret that I jumped to the conclusions I did.”

Sage waved a hand in the air. She didn’t want to have this conversation. “I don’t care. I’m used to people not understanding what I do.” The only opinion that mattered was Wayne’s—not Eric’s. Whoever. God, I hate him.

“Well, you were big enough to deliver your apology to me in person, so I am here to offer you the same consideration. I’m sorry I thought you were a money-grabbing opportunist.”

Sage laughed because it was that or cry. “I forgive you. Now, could you leave? I’m really not in the mood for company.”

Mrs. Westerly didn’t move to stand. Instead she tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I told Eric what I thought of you, and I fear that has caused problems between you two.”

“It shouldn’t have. It wouldn’t have if he had had any faith in me. So, although I appreciate your apology, it’s really only making me feel worse.” Well, at least I know why he changed.

“Eric had his heart broken once by a woman—”

“I know, he told me.”

“It hurt him deeply. You have to understand—since that betrayal, he hasn’t been able to trust anyone.”

“No. I don’t have to understand anything. He was hurt. I get it. But you know what? He’s not the only who has ever had his heart broken. He’s not the only one who has ever believed in someone who didn’t deserve it. But who he becomes because of it is his choice.”

Mrs. Westerly went to sit beside Sage. “You’re upset right now, but—”

“Upset? No. Disappointed that I let myself fall in love with a man who has no idea how to love back—that’s more accurate. Thank you for apologizing, but it doesn’t change anything. There’s nothing to work through. I met the real Eric Westerly today, and I didn’t like him. End of story.”

After a moment, Mrs. Westerly said, “I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping I could convince you to give him a second chance.”

Sage shook her head. “I don’t see that happening.”

Mrs. Westerly stood and hovered above Sage for a moment. “Not a single one of us is perfect. I should know—I’m less perfect than most. Eric shouldn’t have believed me, but I shouldn’t have planted the doubt in him. I’m sure there are things you’ve done that you regret. You’re angry right now, but it will pass. Don’t rush to make any solid decisions until some of it does. Eric is complicated, but you sound like you are, too. I’d like nothing more than to hear that the two of you have worked things out.”

She sounded as if she meant it. Sage looked up at her. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near you or your family.”

Mrs. Westerly’s chin rose. “I was wrong. It happens from time to time.”

Sage would have smiled if her heart weren’t still shattered. Instead she simply nodded once.

“I’ll let myself out,” Mrs. Westerly said, then left.

Sage stayed where she was, hugging herself on her couch. She wanted to believe what Eric’s grandmother had said, but she didn’t know who to believe anymore.

What a sad thing to have in common with the man I love.



Without a disguise, there weren’t many places Eric could go that wouldn’t have him under constant public scrutiny, so he did as he often had in the past—he holed up in his house, avoiding even his staff. This time, at least, he had his lair. The whole morning looped in Eric’s mind like a tragic movie. It always brought him to the same haunting memory—the one that would stay with him for life—and that was the expression in Sage’s eyes when she’d told him to leave.

He hadn’t slept at all the night before. It wasn’t his excuse, but it was an indicator to him of where his head had been when he’d decided to go to her as himself. Not his whole self. Not his humble side. No, after a night of mentally flogging himself for opening himself up to a woman he knew nothing about and then being shocked when told she wasn’t the saint he’d built her up to be—he’d been angry.

Angry with himself for wanting to believe in happy endings.

Angry with his grandmother for pulling him back to reality.

Angry with Sage for shredding the progress he’d made.

He’d hired a limo, gotten the flowers, and headed off to Sage’s apartment, not because he thought it would win her over, but because he needed to prove to himself that it wouldn’t. Once again, he’d seen a problem as having only two possible outcomes: one, she jumped at the chance to be with him, thus proving her avarice; or two, she turned him away and confirmed her claim that neither wealth nor fame mattered to her.

He hadn’t considered the third option—that he was an utter ass and she was kindhearted enough to think she could reach beyond that to the man she saw inside him.

She’d been falling in love with him, and what had he done? He’d thrown all that right back in her face, accused her of fucking him for his money.