darling.”
“Is that really your decision?” I demanded, starting to get my footing back.
She cocked her head and then, slowly, she smiled. “Yes. I’m the one who holds the purse strings…so, yes.”
“What about what he wants?” I was shaking inside. Shaking and half-sick with anger and a shame that I knew was unfounded. So what if I wasn’t from the New York elite, or from some family that could trace its roots back a few hundred years? My parents loved me. They had worked hard to provide for me. There was nothing to be ashamed of about that. Yet this woman was trying her best to make me feel substandard. Screw that.
Oh, but she was good. Even as I pulled together the ragged edges of my dignity, she moved forward and reached up, brushing my hair back from my face. “You can’t even be there for him now in the way that he needs, Gabriella. Can’t you see that? He needed a partner with him and you’d rather run around chatting with his brother than stand at his side. What do you think you can possibly do for him that a dozen other women can’t do better ?”
I swallowed.
Then, slowly, stepping back out of reach, I met her eyes.
“I can love him.”
I didn’t look at her as I cut around her and started to walk. Maybe it was luck or maybe it was some weird twist of fate, but this time, I found my way to the front of the house. I’d sent a text to Paul as I wound my way through the elegant labyrinth and he was there, waiting for me.
Half falling into the back of the car, I whispered, “Take me home, Paul.”
“To the mansion, Miss Gabriella?”
I huddled into myself. “No.” Tears stung my eyes. “I need to go to my home, Paul. The mansion isn't home.”
Chapter 8
The boss from hell was on vacation, but that didn't mean I was. She'd left me with a list of projects and assignments I was supposed to have completed by the time she got back. Oh, and she'd left instructions for periodic updates. At least, I was able to work from home.
It was Monday morning and I was halfway through the second assignment, which I considered being ahead of the game. I'd gotten the first one done last night since I'd ended up getting home early from the party and hadn't spent the night with Edward as I'd previously planned.
I was also now the proud owner of a raging headache. That's what happened when you stayed up too late working and switching between swearing, crying yourself silly and hating on your future mother-in-law.
So far, the morning was going better than last night. I'd managed to keep Claire and her ugly words mostly out of my head and I thought I almost had a handle on this. I could be rational…maybe. And I needed to be rational, because I still had to talk to Edward.
He hadn’t called last night.
I’d gotten home a little before nine and I’d waited, half-expecting him to call to make sure I was okay. But even as I'd busied myself with the assignment my boss had wanted first, I'd kept eying my phone. It'd had plenty of bars on it, and the battery had been full, because I’d plugged it in when I got home.
But there had been no call.
And so far this morning, there'd still been no call.
It hurt. It hurt a lot. It also pissed me off, getting under my skin in ways I couldn’t describe. Why hadn’t he called? When had he finally noticed I was missing? He'd order my food, give me a credit card to make sure I had clothes to wear for his party, but he couldn't pay enough attention to me at the party to notice I was gone.
Then I felt like an idiot, because he wouldn’t have had to have noticed. Paul would have called him right away. He probably would have sent a text at some point, probably while we were still making our way into the city. Paul would've passed along the half-truth I'd given him about not feeling well.
Still, why hadn’t he called to see how I was feeling?
“Stop it.” I ground the heel of my hand against my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut. “Focus, Gabriella.”
The