Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(60)

“Te amo con todo mi corazón. Te quiero para siempre. Te quiero hasta el día que me muera. Te amo, Natalie.”

Te amo. She sighed heavily; sleep was dragging her down quickly. “I love you, too.”

“Cásate conmigo.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Por favor ser mi esposa, Natalie. Por favor...”

Por favor. She knew that, of course. And esposa…It sounded familiar. A word similar to its English counterpart. Mi esposa… Some voice in her mind, distant and faint, screamed at her to wake up and listen. Yes! Yes! it cried.

“Yes,” Natalie murmured, and then she slipped under completely.





Chapter TwentyEight


David Thompson was having a shitty week. First, Julian had decided to keep that insipid Natalie in his life after all. He’d had three days of bliss watching Julian shuffle around the apartment in misery, waiting for her to reply to some letter he’d sent her. David thought no one mourned as beautifully.

These were the times David cherished, when Julian’s heart was bruised and he was susceptible to ministrations of comfort. David was certain that a little more pain, and then a little more of his own shoulder to cry on, and Julian would discover that the one constant in his life, the one person who never hurt but always helped, was David.

But when he came into the apartment on Monday morning, Julian was nowhere to be found and the cloying scent of Natalie’s perfume was all over his bed sheets.

David cursed and locked himself in his office. The charity donation statements were almost done. He’d spent his entire weekend making them from scratch: copying the logos and making false headers from three different charities he thought Julian would approve of. Then he’d had to create false declarations of donations with painstaking care for authenticity. Julian wouldn’t look too closely but Natalie would. She would know too, that no one handed over huge amounts of cash, not even for charity. He’d have to somehow work it out that Julian alone would see the donation statements and put an end to the mess. But how can you keep taking the money now to pay Cliff? They’ll be watching you, Julian and Natalie both. And despite all, he still had to deposit the newest dividend check—the one Julian had intercepted—in order to make the April payment.

When he got in trouble a child, his mother used to warn him he was treading on thin ice. I have to get out of this mess with Cliff. I have to.

A little after ten o’clock he heard the security console beep and then rummaging in the kitchen; Julian coming in from his morning jog, David guessed. Natalie had class during the day. Julian was alone. His heart thudding dully, David gathered up the false statements and headed out.

The tinny sound of Len Gordon’s voice over the speakerphone stopped him. He peeked around the corner to watch Julian make some breakfast and talk to his editor. He looked invigorated from his run, and content, at ease with the world. David’s hands grew cold and the papers rustled like fall leaves as they slipped out of his hands.

“That is fantastic news, Julian. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it.”

Julian smiled wryly. “I’ll bet you are.”

“Oh, come on now. You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“Yes, Len, I know. You’ve been great.”

“What made you change your mind? After all this time?”

David leaned in, his heart in his throat.

“There are several reasons. But foremost, it would make my girlfriend happy to have the writing appreciated by someone other than her.” Julian smiled to himself. “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your girlfriend is my hero and you can tell her I said that. Now, what do you envision?”

Julian sliced bell peppers as he spoke, casually, and completely unaware that he was destroying David with every successive word.

“I don’t want a lot of press,” he said, “but I suppose that would be unavoidable to a certain extent.”

“Completely unavoidable.”

“Then here’s what I want: I want to get it all done at one time. No more than one press statement, or whatever you need, to go along with the book’s release and promotion.”

There was a gurgling sound on the other end. David imagined Len sitting in his posh office in a Manhattan sky rise, choking on his lunch at his good fortune.

“Are you saying you’re willing to promote the book?”

“If I have to.” Julian cracked two eggs into a skillet. “I’d like to have its publicity coincide with the so-called ‘big reveal’ and then I’m done. One book tour, one round of interviews, and nothing else.”

There was silence on the other end and then, almost tearfully, “You’ll do a book tour?”

“One book tour,” Julian said. “No more. Not for any other book. It’s a one-time deal. If I have to suffer the curiosity, I’d rather just do it all it once and then go about my life, honestly and openly, but not in the public eye. I can’t imagine there’d be much of a fuss about me anyway, so don’t get it into your head to create one.”

“Of course not,” Len said.

Of course not, David sneered. Not Len Gordon…the man who implores Julian to give up his secret at every available opportunity. Not Mr. Discretion…

“And not yet,” Julian said. “Our deal is still on. The book isn’t finished. I haven’t even begun transcribing it into the computer. When it’s done, we’ll go from there.”