“Scarlett,” I called as I took the oak stairs up to our bedroom. I’d expected to find her in the library; she seemed to gravitate toward the place on the rare occasions we weren’t together, but when I’d checked it had been empty. “Scarlett,” I called again. If she was sleeping, I’d wake her. We needed to have this conversation. I didn’t want to go back to Manhattan and have her go back to her flat. It didn’t seem right. If necessary, I’d convince her to let me redecorate her place before she moved back in. Then she’d be forced to stay a little longer and then by the time that was done, hopefully I’d be able to convince her—maybe even rent her flat out. We didn’t have to consider forever, but surely she’d give us a chance. Things had been good between us. There was no reason to walk away now.
I opened the door to our bedroom, expecting to see her napping on the bed, but she wasn’t there. I glanced around. “Scarlett,” I called out. Was she taking a bath? I charged into the bathroom, hoping to find her covered in bubbles and staring back at me, a wicked grin on her face. But the bathroom was empty as well. Maybe she’d gone over to the stables with Darcy? I took out my phone and dialed her mobile. It rang from the other side of the room and I saw it light up on the nightstand. Shit. She took her phone everywhere with her. Where was she? I stalked over to her phone and found it sitting on a large, brown envelope. Her name had been crossed out in blue pen and in her neat handwriting she’d spelled out “Ryder.”
My heart began to thud against my chest.
I grabbed the envelope and turned it over in my hands. The flap opened easily and I pulled out the papers, scattering them onto the bed. The ebony type jumped out at me: Divorce, Loan Settlement. I rummaged through them and found her signature at the back, just above her name. I turned the document over. It was the loan settlement. I tossed it aside and grabbed the other document. She wouldn’t have signed the divorce papers without asking me, would she?
I flicked through the pages of the divorce petition. All signed, as if it were just more loan documentation. As if it meant nothing to her. As if I meant nothing to her. The floorboards outside my room creaked. I gathered up the papers and stuffed them back in the envelope. Perhaps she did want to discuss what was going to happen between us. After all, even though the envelope had been addressed to me, it had been left on her nightstand, under her mobile phone.
I quickly replaced the envelope and phone and headed toward the door to meet Scarlett as she came in.
But when I yanked open the door, Scarlett wasn’t standing in front of me as I’d hoped. I glanced left and right, but only found Lane coming out of the summer suite.
“Sir, can I help you with anything?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, sorry. I thought you were Scarlett. You haven’t seen her, have you?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped, frowned and finally said, “I dropped her off at Heathrow, sir.”
Heathrow?
My face caught fire. “Oh, yes. Of course, you did.” Heath-fucking-row?
“Did she leave something behind? I can have it sent over by courier if needs be.”
“No, that’s fine. I just wasn’t quite sure what time she was leaving.” I nodded and closed the door, clenching and releasing my fists, hoping the action would take away from the slice through my chest.
She’d taken her money and left. Like all I’d ever been for her was a damn job. Had she really been faking our whole relationship this entire time?
Jesus. I’d been played—and it hurt more than I could ever have imagined. I’d thought the death of my grandfather had been bad enough. But this? To find out the last three months had meant nothing to her. Was I really such a dreadful judge of character?
I’d spent my life carefully limiting the number of people I cared about. Because I knew from bitter experience that it was only the people who were close to you that could hurt you. My parents had taught me that lesson early and hard.
And Scarlett had just sent me to grad school.
Twenty-Six
Ryder
“Come on, Darce! I’m going to be late.” I stood at the bottom of the stairs, ready to go into London to meet the shareholders of a potential new investee company. Darcy was meeting old school friends. I really didn’t want to spend nearly two hours in a car with her, but I’d not left my room after Scarlett’s disappearance, which meant Darcy would have eaten alone. I was a selfish prick, but I just couldn’t bring myself to explain Scarlett’s absence. It showed an embarrassing lack of judgment on my behalf. I’d always prided myself on being able to pick out people I trusted and people I didn’t.
I clearly wasn’t as tuned in as I thought I was.
“I’m coming,” she shouted back, the slam of her bedroom door echoing over the landing.
She appeared at the top of the stairs with a frown. “Where’s Scarlett?” I rolled my eyes. She thought I hadn’t gone to dinner because Scarlett and I were too busy fucking. How wrong she was.
“Come on,” I said, ignoring her. The gravel crunched beneath my shoes—something I missed when in Manhattan. The feel of the stones under my feet meant I was home.
“You’re mighty moody today, Ryder. If Scarlett doesn’t want to chaperone you to London, it’s not my fault.”
I climbed into the back of the Bentley, slamming the door before Lane could do it for me.
I pulled down the armrest between us and opened my laptop. I’d have to spend the journey working or at least pretending to work. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Scarlett.
Darcy and Lane exchanged words outside the car, then the opposite door opened and Darcy got in without a word. She fastened her seatbelt and began to mess with her phone. Good. Silence was what I needed.
I began to scan through emails that had come in overnight. Despite being across the pond for over two weeks, things seemed to be running smoothly. John was handling anything that required face-to-face meetings. I occasionally joined by video conference but other than that, it was business as usual. I knew my grandfather would hate to think he’d pulled my focus from the Westbury Group, so I’d made sure I’d kept on top of things.
“What did you do?” Darcy asked from next to me.
Assuming she was talking to her phone, I ignored her.
“Ryder. What happened with Scarlett?”
Fuck. I did not want to discuss this.
I glanced up to see that Lane had brought up the privacy screen. Had Darcy asked him to? Was that what they’d been muttering about before Darcy got into the car?
“I’m busy, Darcy.”
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to shut her down, but it was worth a shot.
“Lane said Scarlett flew back to New York yesterday.”
I shrugged. “What’s your point?” I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on my laptop screen.
“What did you do to make her run?”
Right. Typical of my sister to assume I’d done something. I wasn’t the bad guy in this situation. I was the goddamn victim. I’d opened myself up to a woman and where had it got me? Used and thrown out.
“I don’t have time for an argument, Darcy. I didn’t do anything. The estate has passed. She got her money. We’re done. It’s as simple as that.”
Christ, everything about her departure had been so calculated. I’d thought that she’d become friends with Darcy but she’d clearly not even said goodbye to her.
“You sent her away?” Darcy asked.
“No. If you must know, she didn’t tell me she was leaving. Giles gave her the papers and the next thing I knew, she’d gone.”