Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(56)

“Well, that’s settled then. I’ll just give her the money.” He sounds like he just bought a car. Or a prostitute.

Suddenly, it all makes sense. He said it himself when we were at Paradox. He is selfish. Only I was too lost in my own fantasy to accept it. He wanted to f*ck the girl in the paintings. Well, he did. But then she became too real in the morning. And now, to ease any guilt he feels for using a poor orphan, he’ll just throw some cash at her.

Well, I don’t have much but I have dignity. I stand up. Everyone looks at me in surprise, but they stand with me.

“Gentlemen, I’d like to speak to Mr. Hale alone. Is there somewhere I can do that?”





Chapter Twenty-Six





Ghosts


“Sure, Elisa.” Bob recovers first and leads us out of the room. I follow, not bothering to see if the Wanker of the Century is behind me. If he is not, I’ll take the elevator down and go home. Bob shows us to a smaller conference room with no windows and leaves.

I walk in, keeping my back to the door. I hear it close and turn slowly, afraid that if I rush, I will rip off his head and maybe even his impressive dick. He looks wary. As he should be.

“All right, Elisa. Let’s talk about this.”

I grit my teeth together and glare at him. “Yes, let’s. Maybe you can start for once. Is a million dollars the going rate for a virgin these days?”

At first, he frowns and then all expression leaves his face as he turns to stone. “You think I’m buying you?”

“Forty thousand for a half-naked painting. God knows how much for the others. And the hymen—oh, that’s the crown jewel.” I put as much sarcasm and ice in my voice as I can.

Under my glower, his face changes to fury. Flexed jaw, flared nostrils, thin lips and narrow dark eyes.

“I’m not paying you for sex. I’m doing this to help you,” he hisses through his teeth.

“Help me? Me? Really? You gain no benefit from this at all?”

“That’s not the point. The point is—”

“Let me save you the trouble and the breath, Aiden. The point is to give the poor little orphan girl money from the overflowing coffers of the billionaire who only wanted to f*ck her. You weren’t counting on conversation, on sharing more than a bed, meals and money. When she became a person, instead of a portrait, that ruined your fantasy. Only you’re too decent to take an orphan girl’s virginity and then dump her on the streets, right?” My body is shaking with anger. I have minutes, maybe even seconds, before the dams burst. “A million dollars for the luxury of believing that you did right by me must be quite a bargain for someone like you. You can keep your millions, Aiden. The sex was on the house.” With that, I march right past him to the door. His arm flies out and he stops my exit.

I glare at him. “Get out of my way.”

“No. You’ve said your piece, and what a piece it was. Now you get to hear mine.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Tough. I’m not paying for f*cking you. Take it from someone who knows, Elisa. Sex with you would not cost millions. In fact, it wouldn’t—”

I can’t hear any more. “You’re right. It would not. Maybe you can find something cheaper and better somewhere else. It’s my own fault, not yours. What a fool I was! Our entire relationship—if it even deserves that name—started out as a commercial transaction. You paying for me to pose naked. Now paying for the aftermath. What an expensive mistake you must think you made!”

“Enough!” he yells, as the tenuous grip we both had on our emotions all morning—in fact, the past two days—gives out. The air thickens and stills, heavy with the venom, resentment, demons and anger we just dumped on it. His entire frame is shaking with rage.

“I am not. Paying you. For sex.” He punctuates his words. “You’re right about the other things though. Yes, I wanted to f*ck you. And I enjoyed it. Tremendously. I would do it again and again. I’d f*ck you here. Right now. But it would not change the fact that as we got to know each other, it became painfully obvious that I’m not right for you and you’re not right for me. So, yes, I could have been more direct this morning but despite my realization, I still wanted to make sure you were not in trouble. And frankly, I’m glad I did because, apparently, you do need my overflowing coffers that you so disdain. So I’m trying to help. I can’t be with you but that does not mean that you have to be exiled in some forsaken town surrounded by ghosts.” He stops and he is breathing hard.

I lean against the conference room wall. Each word he spoke—each awful truth—was a blow. So this is his conclusion. He can’t be with me. Even though I knew our days were numbered before we even began, hearing him acknowledge it stabs deeper than I imagined—a lot deeper than I knew I had room to hurt.

Yet worse than all his words are his last ones. Surrounded by ghosts. My ghosts are not coming back, no matter how alive I try to keep them. My throat burns as tears singe my eyes. I notice that his posture changes somehow, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“You’re right,” I whisper. “They are ghosts.”

I don’t ask him the questions that are burning in my brain. Why doesn’t he want me? Why does he think we are not right? None of that matters. He just does. Someday, maybe I will figure it out. But not today. Today, I just have to survive.