Duke of Manhattan

My stomach swooped at his words. I wanted him to be telling the truth. And a huge part of me believed him. It made sense that his lawyer had sent the papers without him knowing. It fit into the picture of him that I knew.

But having had some time apart, I understood that it was better that things finished now than wait until I fell any deeper and harder. He could never feel the way I felt about him, and he’d leave me eventually. If I ended it now, at least I had a chance to survive it.

“I’d say it’s impossible. I’m not a good wife,” I replied.

“You’re the best wife.” Ryder’s voice was softer now, and I wanted to sink in against his chest. Have him hold me tight.

“I was a fake wife with you, don’t you get it? I’m not good in real relationships.” One day Ryder would realize that, and I would prefer it if our worlds weren’t entangled further when he did. I knew I wouldn’t survive losing him if we were together any longer. It was best to walk away now. I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat.

He leaned back. “That’s just not true. I’ve never opened up to anyone other than my family the way I’ve opened up to you. You know me in a way that no one else has. Can we talk about this? About . . .”

I glanced up and his brow was furrowed as if he were trying to find the right words. “About what, Ryder? There’s no point. It’s better this way. You’ll be better without me. And I’m better on my own.” I needed to go back to my life before Ryder.

“I want to talk about us, Scarlett,” he said, his tone clipped. “I want to have a conversation about our relationship, our marriage and the fact that for the first time in my life, I’m in love with a woman. My wife, in fact.”

In love?

I hadn’t expected that.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out his words. I needed to hold on to what was left of my heart. “You can’t love me.”

“How can you say that? We’ve shared our lives, our bodies, our everything these past months—I love you. And I think you feel the same about me.”

“Look, I accept that you didn’t mean for the divorce papers to be sent to me at that time. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“Surely that changes everything.”

I wanted it to, but at the same time, I hated hurting this much. No one, not even my ex-husband, made me feel so used and thrown away. Even if it was a misunderstanding, it was proof that Ryder had the power to hurt me. I couldn’t risk him settling deeper in my heart only to rip it open when things eventually fell apart. “It changes nothing. We always knew our time was limited. It’s up now, and we need to get on with our lives.”

“I don’t want to get on with my life without you.” He drew his brows together and ran his hands through his hair. I’d never seen him look so frustrated and out of control.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I bet by the end of the month, you won’t be able to remember my name.”

“How can you say that? I just told you I’m in love with you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

It should mean everything, but I knew by now that a man loving me didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of breaking my heart. “It doesn’t mean enough. It doesn’t mean forever.”

I couldn’t fight him much longer. I couldn’t hear how he loved me. It was too much, too painful. And I had to get away—get back to a life no one had the power to destroy. I couldn’t have another man explode my happiness. I wouldn’t let it happen again.

I stood and took the jacket off the back of my chair and slid it on. “I have a meeting.” I glanced at him as I strode toward the door. His face was drawn but still impossibly handsome. His arms hung hopelessly at his sides, his shoulders hunched. I shook my head. “See you around, Ryder,” I said, and I slipped out of the door, leaving him in my office.

It was better like this. My heart was safe.





Twenty-Eight





Ryder


“You’re a mess,” John said, glancing around my flat. I’d not been in to the office all week. Next thing I knew, John was standing in my living room under the pretense of dropping by paperwork we both knew he could have emailed.

“The maid comes tomorrow.”

“I don’t just mean your apartment. Look at you. You’re wearing track pants for crying out loud.”

I glanced down. I may have gone to bed in them. Twice. I wasn’t really sure. “I was just about to go to the gym.”

“You’re a shitty fucking liar. It looks like you slept in those clothes.” He brushed past me and into the living space. “And since when do you eat pizza and drink beer? I thought your body was a temple.”

“What are you, my mother? Give me whatever it is you brought and fuck off.”

He ignored me and plonked himself onto the sofa. “Where’s Scarlett?” he asked.

I groaned. “I have no idea. At work, I presume.”

“You presume? Aren’t you two joined at the hip?”

“My grandfather died. She has her money. I have my company. End of story.”

“Oh, so that’s what we’re dealing with.” John stretched his arm along the back of the big sofa, as if settling in. I glanced at the time on the oven. I wanted him gone. The Young and the Restless was about to come on and I wanted to know whether or not the woman with the blonde hair managed to escape from the woman who’d kidnapped her.

“I don’t have time for this. Why are you here?”

He grinned, but otherwise ignored me. “It all makes sense now, my friend. The pizza boxes. The elasticized pants. The clear aversion to showering.”

I was pretty sure it had been a couple of days since I stood in the shower, but who was counting?

“You can’t just not come to work because you and Scarlett broke up,” he said. “Pick up a sport, go buy a Bugatti, bang some other chick, hell, have a threesome. But get your shit together. We’ve got a business to run.”

“I’m sick. I must have picked it up on the plane—” The thought of banging some other chick, as he put it, churned my stomach.

“You fly private, you dick. People who fly private don’t pick up germs on a plane.”

“Well, I’m not a doctor. I don’t know where I caught it.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “My muscles are wound tighter than a corkscrew, and I’ve got a wicked headache.”

“More like a bad case of heartache.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You might not recognize it, and who could blame you? The only organ you’ve been using around women all these years is your tiny dick—”

“Hey, now that’s a step too far. My dick is plenty big enough, thank you. You’re just jealous.”

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