Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(7)

I crossed my arms and remained silent. I didn’t have to talk to him. I didn’t have to listen to him. Their antics had ruined my life as I knew it. And sure, I had bounced back onto my feet. But it didn’t excuse what they’d done or how callous they had been about it all.

The elevator chimed, and I pushed past Lewis onto the main floor of Warren Publishing. Its grandeur was still mesmerizing, but all I saw was him now. I should have taken another offer. Who cared that Warren had fought the hardest and won the auction? I could have taken the deal from Hartfield or Strider or any number of other publishers that had bid on my book.

I could feel Lewis’s presence behind me as I exited the building and said good-bye to Warren Publishing.

“Stop following me,” I hissed.

“I will. Just hear me out.”

“I’m under no obligation to do that,” I snapped.

“You always did have a hot temper.”

I stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. He continued moving for a pace before he realized that I’d halted.

“Natalie…”

“You and your friends ruined my life. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I have no interest in whatever lies you’re going to spin,” I told him with fire in my eyes. “If you thought this would go differently and that I’d fall all over myself at your feet, you are sadly mistaken. I’m not like the simpering idiots you have on the Upper East Side. I don’t care how much money you have. I don’t care what your last name is. So, leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Lewis said. His eyes were wide and revealing. A window to his sincerity, and I hated it.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

I yanked out my phone to check my messages. I was supposed to meet Amy for lunch, but then I saw I had a text from her.

Ran into Enzo while I was shopping. You remember him from Paris, right? His work has gone off the charts. He even has something in the MET. We’re going to get lunch. Don’t wait up. ;)





I sighed heavily at the text message. Great. There went my escape plan.

“You’re right,” Lewis said. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. But I still would like to apologize. I know I was acting arrogant and condescending in there, but I didn’t know how you’d react to me being there, and it was a defense mechanism.”

“Why would you need a defense mechanism? You’re the one who did this to me.”

“I know. It was stupid and childish and wrong on so many levels. I begged Penn to tell you. I threatened him beyond words to do it, or I would. And I should have. I see now that I should have done it. Should have stopped it all.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Lewis. Why don’t you save your breath for someone who might believe this?”

He straightened. “You think I enjoy throwing myself at your mercy? Knowing that you can hold a grudge for six years that runs as hot as a California forest fire? I don’t enjoy your enmity, Natalie. I deserve it. We all do. But it does nothing to diminish how much I wish I could change it.”

I stared at him in surprise. He was…serious.

He was actually…groveling before me outside of a building he owned. A year later, and he still wanted to make things right. A small part of me got satisfaction in his suffering. It was nothing compared to what I’d gone through. But the Upper East Side never had repercussions to their actions, and his pain was at least one consequence.

“What do you want from me?” I asked cautiously.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I thought, if I bought you lunch, it would be a good start.”

“Start for what?”

“Apologizing for what you went through.”

I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust any of them. But one lunch might not kill me.

“Fine. But we’re getting pizza. It’s the only thing I miss from this godforsaken city.”

He smiled at me as if he knew how much of that was a lie.





Natalie





3





Lewis insisted on paying. So, I found the cheapest pizza place and strolled inside. He looked dismayed.

“Are you sure you want to eat here?” he asked.

“What do you have against pizza?”

“Nothing. But I know a better place.”

“I’m sure you do, but we’re not going to the Upper East Side. We’re not going anywhere near where your friends could see you. And I’m not letting you buy me a ridiculously priced pizza when this place is right here.”

He sighed heavily. “Fine. But don’t act like you don’t like expensive pizza. That place in East Hampton wasn’t cheap.”

I winced at the memory. All the times Penn and I had ordered in pizza from that little place in East Hampton. How we’d eaten it cold for breakfast, clustered around the refrigerator in his parents’ Hamptons mansion, and taken notes on our respective writing projects. I still couldn’t distinguish if that was the best pizza I’d ever had because of where it was from or who I ate it with.

“Whatever,” I muttered.

Lewis ordered us a pepperoni and sausage pizza and handed me the Styrofoam fountain drink. I giggled at his discomfort and poured myself a Coke. I sat at one of the rickety chairs. Then, my eyes slid to Lewis at the soda machine.