The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(30)

“You’re welcome. We’ll be in touch regarding the architects.”

“I expect to hear from you regarding the deed sooner than that.”

“Of course.” Preston nodded and gave halfhearted goodbyes, his mind stuck on the woman over on the far corner. He needed to find out what she was up to.

As soon as he was alone, he strode over. “Miss Delafield.”

She started and pressed a hand to her heart. “What on earth? You scared me.”

Preston didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to the man at Katherine’s side. “I need a moment with Miss Delafield.”

The man glanced at Katherine, unsure, and she gave him a small nod. “I won’t be long, Mr. Jennis.”

When they were alone, Preston asked, “Why are you here? Are you following me?”

Her chin lifted regally, like the little queen he’d once dubbed her. “Believe it or not, I have better things to do than to follow you around the city. And not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m meeting with my father’s architect to discuss the art museum I’m building on this block.”

The words hung in the air as he tried to piece them together, like tiny lines and shapes that combined to complete a drawing.

When he could speak, he said, “Art museum? Here? Right here? You can’t do that.”

Her lips flattened. “No doubt you believe buildings should only be designed and built by men. I hate to inform you, but—”

“No,” he said. “This is my land. I own it. And no matter what your father says, I’m keeping it.”

Seconds ticked by as she stared up at him, distrust swirling in her light brown eyes. “My father said this land is his.”

“It has always been Clarke land. It’s mine.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why would he lie to me?” Implying that Preston was clearly the dishonest one.

“I couldn’t say. He claims my father sold him the land when their company dissolved, but I don’t believe it.”

“Well, have you seen the deed or the paperwork?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

He clenched his teeth together and forced out, “My father’s signature is still being verified.” She relaxed and let out an amused huff, and he didn’t care for the smirk on her face.

“I see what’s happening. Someone has something you want, but won’t give it to you. So you’re acting like a child, thinking you are entitled to it, regardless.”

Irritation crawled along his spine and settled between his shoulder blades. “You have quite a low opinion of me.”

“Let’s just say I have some experience with what happens when Preston Clarke doesn’t get his way.”

God, this woman. “Meaning, I’m acting like a child when it comes to you?”

“You dragged me into the coat closet at Sherry’s.”

“I was trying to help you. Lockwood is the last man you should marry, Katherine.”

“The last man? Really? Are you certain of that? Because I can think of one or two others who rate higher on that list.”

Him, in other words. Shoving apart the sides of his overcoat, he put his hands on his hips. “Kat,” he said, sternly. “You should know that I do, eventually, always get my way. No one is more determined than me. There is no limit to what I will do in order to win, no line I won’t cross.”

He remembered what it was like to lose almost everything. To have one’s entire life nearly stripped away. He’d be damned if he ever let it happen again.

She didn’t appear swayed, seemingly staring down her nose at him, though he was several inches taller. “This is a ridiculous conversation to have right now. I’m in the midst of a meeting.”

“A meeting that is a waste of everyone’s time, because you won’t be building anything here. I’m putting up an office building.”

“How original,” she drawled. “The city doesn’t need another office building, Preston. It needs more art, more greenery. More public spaces.”

“Then I suggest you start looking elsewhere for available land.”

Her smile was all teeth. “Why, when my father has given me the perfect block right here?”

The moment stretched as the midday traffic carried on around them. He was both frustrated and aroused, an odd combination for him. The urge to yell at her was equal with his urge to kiss her.

Color rose on her cheeks and he could see the pulse beating at the base of her throat. Anger, or was she contemplating a kiss, as well?

Wishful thinking on my part, no doubt.

Clenching his hands into fists, he stared at the foot traffic and carriages as they passed. This was absurd. As if everything that transpired between them wasn’t bad enough, now Lloyd was lying to her, building up her hopes regarding an art museum here. The project would never come to fruition because this block belonged to Preston. Her father was beyond cruel.

Preston let out the breath he’d been holding. What was he doing? Lloyd deserved Preston’s animosity, not Katherine. The two of them had been more than compatible at the ball without Lloyd Delafield between them. If not for her last name, Preston certainly would’ve tried to seduce her.

She was caught in a struggle she didn’t understand, with her father pulling the strings, and Preston wouldn’t do that to her. He liked her, if he was being honest—and he didn’t like many people. She was funny and smart, unafraid to stand up to him. Decent and kind and everything he wasn’t . . . yet naughty enough to come to the French Ball and turn his world upside down.