Burn (Breathless #3)(88)

“Miss Carlysle, please. You shouldn’t be in here,” the doorman said from the door.

“No, I don’t suppose I should,” she murmured.

She pushed past him, ignoring his calls for her to stop. What on earth could he possibly say?

She shoved into the elevator, tears stinging her eyes. How could he have done it? She felt like the biggest fool on earth. She’d never dreamed that Ash had been the one to buy all her paintings, but it shouldn’t have surprised her. He’d orchestrated every aspect of their relationship so far.

Desolation settled over her. She wasn’t successful. She wasn’t independent. Everything she had came from Ash. She was living off his money, in his apartment. Nothing had been bought with her money. Her earlier sensation of rightness, that she’d found her place in the world, was gone with the discovery of those paintings.

She swept out of the elevator so agitated she couldn’t even think straight. Her gaze settled on the boxes, most of which had already been unpacked. She walked right by them and sagged onto the couch, covering her face with her hands.

She was utterly humiliated. Every single time she’d excitedly exclaimed to Ash over the success of her work came back to her in waves of embarrassment. And he’d let her!

He’d lied to her, something she wouldn’t have imagined. No, he hadn’t come out and denied buying the paintings, but then she hadn’t asked. She’d never dreamed that he’d been behind it. His was a lie of omission. So huge, so monumental that she couldn’t even fathom.

What else had he kept from her?

Tears burned her eyelids but she refused to give in to them. She also refused to believe she was overreacting. This wasn’t something small. Her success had enabled her to say yes to Ash’s demands. She’d felt like she could agree because she felt capable of supporting herself. No way would she have gone blindly into a relationship with Ash with such a huge disparity between them. She’d been willing and able to submit because she’d been strong enough to come to him as an equal. Not that there’d ever been true equality between them, but her success as an artist, having money in her bank account and the means to support herself, had been very important to her and it had evened the odds between them. At least in her mind.

What she hadn’t realized was just how unequal things were between them.

She was living in his apartment. All the money in her bank account was his. Not hers. Oh God, he’d even paid her double. She should have questioned her good fortune. People didn’t just walk into an art gallery and magnanimously offer to pay more than asking price for art.

She was so stupid. Naïve. A complete and utter moron.

She’d actually believed that someone had been awed by her work. She’d believed she had real talent even though Mr. Downing had refused to display more of her art because it wasn’t selling. Now she knew the truth.

She closed her eyes, devastated by her discovery. She’d trusted him. Had kept no part of herself from him. And he’d shit all over that gift.

All his words about cherishing her gift, about protecting it and appreciating it, meant nothing. He’d made a gigantic fool of her. God, she’d even told the others about the sale of her artwork. She’d been so proud. So excited. Did they all know that Ash was her benefactor?

Ash apparently operated on a need-to-know basis. What else had he decided she didn’t need to know?

She picked her head up, grief welling in her chest until she couldn’t breathe. She sucked in ragged breaths, trying to assuage the burning in her chest. But nothing worked.

She loved him. She’d thought he loved her.

She rubbed at her temples, weariness assailing her. What was she supposed to do?

She glanced toward the boxes, anger replacing some of her devastation. The hell she’d just stay here and pretend that she didn’t know what he’d done. How could she? She was living a complete lie. And now she was faced with the knowledge that she wasn’t successful. There was no demand for her work. And she’d been lax with her jewelry design business ever since she’d moved in with Ash. She’d been too caught up in other things to design new pieces and put them up for sale. She’d been comforted by the knowledge that she was selling her artwork as fast as she could get it to the gallery and those pieces made her far more money than her jewelry did. Or at least they had.

Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to her feet. To action. It wouldn’t take long to repack her belongings. And really all she wanted was her art supplies and the clothing she’d brought with her. Everything else belonged to Ash. They were things he bought for her and she wouldn’t bring them with her.

Mechanically, she stuffed everything in the boxes, not taking the care she had when they’d been packed before. After thirty minutes, they were full, her overnight bag filled with her toiletries and her clothing. She stood surveying the room, knowing it would take several trips to get all the stuff to her apartment. Thank God she hadn’t terminated the lease and still had a place to live.

Squaring her shoulders, she pulled out her phone and Googled a local mover. After a phone call, and a hefty bill for a last-minute job, all she had to do was wait. Wait for the people who’d remove all traces of her presence in Ash’s apartment.

It hurt. She hurt. There wasn’t a part of her heart or soul that wasn’t sick. But how could she stay with a man who’d so blithely manipulate her? He might not have ever physically hurt her as Michael had, but right now Josie would take that kind of pain over the gut-wrenching agony she was experiencing over his deception.