After This Night (Seductive Nights #2)(39)
Author: Lauren Blakely

“Then why doesn’t he need the money I won? Is it true you paid him already?” Her heart, so full of hope and joy, was turning black, like it had been painted over with a brush, becoming dark and cold in seconds.

“I paid him yesterday,” he said, grasping her hand tighter. But she shook him off, tears threatening to spill down her face as that word—yesterday—rang in her ears. The only thing that stopped the waterworks was the presence of Charlie. She bit her tongue so she wouldn’t cry in front of that man. “I did it because I love you. Because I needed you safe.”

“When? When yesterday did you pay him?”

His jaw tensed. “Last night.”

“But when last night?”

“During the game.”

“When?” she asked once more time. Biting out the word. “It. Matters. When?”

“He called earlier in the day, and said he needed it by midnight,” Clay said. Julia was used to Charlie’s capriciousness, to the way he changed up times and dates and deadlines to suit himself. This was Charlie’s M.O. “And you were losing, and I didn’t know if you were going to pull it off,” he said, and his words cut her to the quick. “So I wired him the money.”

“Answer the question, Clay. When exactly did you wire him the money?”

Clay looked as if stones were in his mouth. “Around eleven-thirty.”

“After I told you I loved you?”

He nodded.

“After our conversation about Michele?”

Another nod, followed by a heavy sigh.

“After you told me you were texting Flynn about the Pinkertons?”

“Yes.”

“Were you texting Flynn or Charlie?”

He looked down, and in his silence she knew his answer, and it ripped through her body like a painful tear, like invisible hands were shredding her to pieces.

A loud scraping sound met her ears. Charlie had pushed back his chair. “As fascinating as it is to witness a lover’s quarrel, I have business matters to attend to. Mr. Nichols, I thank you very kindly for securing the transaction last night so that I could get on my flight to Miami. I have business to attend to there. I believe the final term of our deal was a handshake,” he said offering his hand to Clay. The two men shook and Julia wanted to bite both of their fingers, leaving teeth marks, and making them both yelp. Charlie patted Julia on the shoulder. “And that means, Red, you are free and clear. It has been a pleasure working with you. You made it entertaining for me, and I will miss my top ringer. But I will surely find someone else who owes me soon. Enjoy Cubic Z. I will not be drinking there again,” he said. That was what she wanted, what she’d been fighting for, and she somehow knew Charlie meant every word. There was honor among thieves. His word was good on this matter.

He walked off, leaving Julia alone with the man who’d played her. “I don’t understand. You think this is okay because you did it for love?”

“No. Yes,” he said, his voice wobbly as he shoved his hand through his hair. “Yes. Julia, I didn’t want anything to happen to you, so I got him the money.”

She softened for a moment, because she understood some part of his actions. Deeply and truly. “I get that. I honestly do. I understand you wanted to protect me, and I don’t fault you for that. Because I’d have done the same for you, and I’m okay with that,” she said, dropping her hand on top of his. Relief flooded his eyes when she made contact. But it was short-lived because she took her hand away, placing them both in her lap. Her anger stole all the softness, replacing it with only the sharp, cruel betrayal she felt. “But I don’t understand why the hell you didn’t tell me. It’s been twelve hours since you sent him the money. You had so many chances to tell me that the rules of the game had changed.”

She watched him swallow hard, a terribly pained look in his eyes. “I wanted to tell you.”

“But you didn’t. You let me play the end of the game thinking it mattered. I was losing, and you told me to go back in there and kick ass, knowing it didn’t matter how I played. You sent me back to play a game that was, for all intents and purposes, rigged. Because it didn’t matter what I did,” she said, her voice threatening to break. “That’s the moment, Clay. Then. There. On the street. After you told me you loved me. That’s when you needed to tell me about Charlie’s new deadline. I’d have understood completely if you pulled me aside and said, ‘Hey gorgeous, bad news,’” she said, dropping her voice to imitate a man’s deeper tones, “‘Charlie called and we need to get him the money now.’ That’s all you had to say. That’s it.”

“I know. I should have. But you were happy and determined, and I wanted you . . .” He let his voice trail off.

“You wanted me to believe I could do it,” she supplied.

“Yes,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“You wanted me to think I’d pulled it off myself. But I only wanted one thing. To not be played. And you took that away from me. You, of all people, should know better. You hate lies and you hate liars, and you lied to me by not telling me. You patted me on the ass and sent me into a game that didn’t matter, but you led me to believe it did. Then I won and I practically danced down the street afterwards, and you kissed me and told me you were proud of me. I thanked you for making it possible for me to win on my own terms. And that was another moment that you could have told me.”

She stopped to grab him by the arm, trying to make her point. “Instead, you let me believe I’d won my freedom,” she said, and now the lump in her throat was so painful that it felt like a swollen ache. She brought her hand to her mouth, as if she could keep the crying at bay. But one rebel tear streaked down her cheek as she whispered, “Then you made love to me in your house, in front of the mirror, and asked me to move in with you. And you knew then. All you had to do was tell me. I would have still said yes.”

“I wanted you to be happy. And I didn’t know how to say it,” he said, trying to reach for her, to tug her back in for an embrace, but she held him off.

“You’re a goddamn lawyer. You talk to people for a living. Your whole world is semantics and details,” she said, the words breaking on her tongue like salty waves. She took a deep breath, trying to somehow settle the tears that threatened to wrack her body. “You could have found a way to tell me. Instead, you spent the whole night telling me you loved me, and asking me to move in, when you should have been telling me the truth. FIRST. Because the truth is fine. The truth isn’t what hurts. It’s the time you had when you chose to not tell me the truth. And that makes me feel like I gave you my heart and you played me like a fool.”