The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(74)

Back in New York, she’d still find her father engaged to her late mother’s best friend and Preston out conquering the city, uncaring of who he hurt in the process.

She rubbed her chest, unsure why this ache wouldn’t ease. Surely this pain should lessen a little bit every day she was here?

These past few weeks she’d tried so hard to discover herself. She thought being more like Nellie was the answer, having affairs and throwing caution to the wind, but that had certainly backfired, hadn’t it? Now she had a broken heart to contend with.

Apparently, she wasn’t like Nellie, able to keep her feelings separate from any romantic entanglements. Katherine felt too much for that. Not to mention she’d trusted the wrong man. Preston cared about his company and his buildings in that order. There wasn’t room for anything—or anyone—else.

Stupid, stupid Katherine.

So, who was she? At the moment, she was an unmarried woman with no prospects, a lover of lists with a father starting another life. It was depressing.

She wasn’t ruined, though. While she might not have a maidenhead any longer, that didn’t mean she was unworthy. And someday a man was going to put her first.

Leaves rustled close by and she froze. Was it a bear? No, that was ridiculous. Aunt Dahlia’s fears were making Katherine skittish. Still, she took a step closer to the door, ready to dart inside the lodge at the first sign of brown fur or snarling teeth.

An unwelcome visitor stepped out of the brush, and not the one she was expecting.

Preston.

She backed toward the door as if he were really a bear. “What are you doing here?”

He held up his hands. “I’ve come to see you. Please, don’t run from me again, Kat.”

“How on earth did you find me? Did my aunt . . . ?” God, she would never forgive Aunt Dahlia.

“No, the Pinkertons found you.”

He’d hired the detective agency to find her? She was both flattered and annoyed. Mostly annoyed. “Did it occur to you that I didn’t wish to be found?”

“Yes.” He lifted a shoulder as if her wishes didn’t factor into his decisions. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Where are you staying?” Because he was absolutely not staying here with her.

“At my lodge. Over there.” He pointed to a huge wooden structure dominating the shore of the lake. “Can we—”

Katherine didn’t hear what he said next, because she slipped inside her lodge, closed the door and locked it.

Then she set her coffee down and tried not to scream in frustration. How dare he? Instead of giving her space and respecting her privacy, he’d bounded up here, hell-bent on making her listen to him.

“Kat, please. I need to explain.” He stood directly on the other side of the door now, his voice low and deep.

“Go away, Preston. I don’t want to see you.”

“I understand you’re angry, but you know that land was never yours to begin with.”

The land, the land. Always back to the land with him.

A rush of pain expanded in her chest like a sharp balloon. She closed her eyes and wondered how one smart man could be so perpetually dumb.

“I’m not upset over losing the land,” she called. “Yes, the museum would’ve been perfect there. But I’m upset that you cheated, that you didn’t tell me what you were planning.”

That you didn’t choose me instead.

“I did tell you!”

“No, you didn’t.” She glared at the door separating them. “You told me the land belonged to you, but you never told me the lengths to which you were willing to go in order to prove it.”

“What difference would it have made?”

“You knew it would hurt me, that I was building that museum to honor my mother. You knew I wouldn’t forgive you, yet you forged the deed and submitted it regardless. After all that’s happened between us, you willingly chose to hurt me.”

“Kat.” A small thump sounded, like maybe he dropped his forehead onto the wooden door. “I’m sorry. Please believe me. I never intended to hurt you.”

“Then why buy another parcel of land in Washington Heights? Admit it, you were trying to lessen the sting. You knew losing Twenty-Third Street would hurt me and you thought another piece of land would make it all better.”

“You should have your museum. I bought the land because I wanted to help you.”

“And to ease your guilt.”

“Goddamn it,” he snapped. “Twenty-Third Street had nothing to do with you. It was between your father and me, Katherine.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

He sighed, and she could imagine his brow creased in irritation. He didn’t like not getting his way, not being able to control every situation.

Indeed, that was too dashed bad. Katherine was done letting him lead. Whatever happened next in her life would be of her own choosing.

“Please, Kat. Let me in.”

Hadn’t they said enough? He wasn’t going to see her side because Preston was incapable of seeing anyone else’s side. He was always convinced he was right. Moreover, it was glaringly clear that he didn’t feel the same for her as she did for him. There was lust, perhaps, but no love and certainly no respect.

And indulging in more horizontal time with him was only pulling her in deeper, causing her to fall more in love with him.