“And if I don’t?” I ask. “Then you’ll charge Amory with this bullshit?”
“That’s the deal, pal. Take it or leave it. But I need an answer right now.”
I glance back at the house where my love is sleeping, blissfully unaware of the Machiavellian level deceit going on out front. I should have seen this coming. I knew Childers was determined, but I never thought he’d stoop this low.
Even if the charges don’t stick, she’ll be dragged through hell because of me. I can’t allow that to happen. I love her, and love means not just doing what’s best for you, but doing what’s best for the other person.
“Last chance, Duke,” Childers says. “Come with me now, or I go inside with a SWAT team and we drag her out here in whatever she’s wearing right now. You want that to happen?”
Son of a bitch. I should black his eye for saying some shit like that. Or worse.
“Fine, Childers,” I say. “You win.”
I know he’s smiling as he grabs his walkie-talkie and calls in the troops, but I don’t even look at him. I send a quick text to my lawyer and am pressing send as he takes it from me. I hear the sirens as two squad cars pull up from either end of the street and present my wrists to him.
“Bet you never thought this would happen,” Childers remarks as he puts the cuffs on me. “But I guess it’s true what they say; even the mighty shall fall.”
I’m sorry, Amory. That’s all I can think as he puts me in the back of the squad car.
She’s going to wake up alone and confused. The pain she’s going to feel will surely rip her apart, but it’s nothing compared to the alternative.
I clench my fists until my knuckles scream with pain.
I won’t see her again. That would be cruel. I’m going away for life and to drag this out would just make things worse. No. I have to let her go now to give her the best chance of surviving without me. And even if she hates me for it, she’ll be free.
8
Amory
When I wake up, I’m alone. I don’t even have to call out for Zander to know it. Somehow, I just know.
I get up and find one of his T-shirts and slip into it and head downstairs. I glance out at the beach, hoping to find him sunning himself or sipping a drink on the patio, but he’s not there. He’s not out front either.
I try my best to stay calm, but I’m alone. By myself.
My chest goes tight, and even though I know it’s pointless, I do a quick search of the house. I even check the closets and the laundry room. But he’s not there.
Maybe he went out to get something. But why would he do that when he could simply make a phone call and have one of the countless members of his staff do it for him? I go around the house again, this time looking for a note he might have left me. But again, I find nothing.
Terrible thoughts begin invading my mind. I tell myself not to listen to them, but it’s near impossible to block them out.
Was I just another girl to him? Is this his game? Romance like this is like a simple dinner date to a billionaire. Did I completely misjudge him? He is a thief after all.
Stay calm. Don’t panic. There must be a reasonable explanation for this.
I’m on my way back up to the bedroom when it hits me.
Childers…
He got him. I don’t know how, but he did. He’s been arrested and taken to the police station. I have to find him.
But what can I even do? They won’t let me see him. I’m not family. And what am I even going to say?
I’m trembling as I find my clothes and put them on, and then I’m shaken as the sound of a phone ringing blares throughout the house.
“Jesus!” I cry out, literally leaping into the air. I spin and spot a phone headset on the wall and quickly thumb the answer-call button. “Yes!?”
“Miss Alden?” a male voice asks.
“Yes? Speaking?”
“Mr. Duke regrets to inform you that he has an important matter to attend to. A car will be arriving shortly to take you to the airport, where a plane will take you home.”
“Wait!” I scream. “What—what are you talking about? A matter? He was arrested, wasn’t he? Who am I talking to? When will I see Zander again?”
There’s a long pause that I feel in my chest. “Mr. Duke thanks you for your time together, but it will not be possible for you to meet with him again. Thank you.”
“Wait!” I shout, but the call ends with a click that causes tears to spill from my eyes. My legs collapse out from under me as a sense of loss I never could have known fills my insides.
Painful sobs spill from my lips as a chill fills me. Who was that on the phone? Surely Zander didn’t tell him to speak that way to me.
Did he?
I couldn’t have been played. No. Not Zander. The way he spoke to me—the look in his eyes. I can spot a forgery, and those were real emotions I saw, not a player doing his thing.
But then why the phone call? Why wouldn’t he just call me and tell me what happened? If he’s been arrested, he is allowed to do that, isn’t he? Or he could easily pass a message on.
It doesn’t make sense.
I feel my heart beginning to crack, and when I hear the sound of the car pulling up outside, I feel it shatter.
The rest of my day is a blur, and not just because I’m looking at the world through tears. A man in a suit brings me to the car and drives me to the airport. The same plane that took me here takes me back to New York and drops me off at my apartment. My roommate, Tracy, is visiting her family this weekend, so I find myself crawling into bed alone, my head hurting from how much I’ve been crying, and my chest filled with a burning hatred for the man who convinced me he was in love.
Fuck it. I’ll just sleep for the next week.
But then my phone rings. It’s work, and no matter how much I don’t want to talk to anyone or see anyone right now, I have to answer. I’m not rich like Zander. I don’t have the luxury of making my own schedule.
“Yes?” I manage to groan into the phone.
“We need you to come in tonight, Amory. Jeff called in sick.”
“Ask Tony.”
“We need you.” It’s Janice. I hate her, and she’s not going to do me any favors no matter what I say. “See you at nine.”
Click.
I go through my routine getting ready and realize that I’ve left my coveralls at Zander’s house. Great, that’s going to come out of my paycheck.
The subway ride to work feels lonelier than ever. I glance over at a happy couple, college students by the look of them, cuddled up on the bench across the car from me, and actually resent them. I feel bad for doing so, but I can’t help it.
They’re in love. I thought I was. Or maybe I still am, but that love was unreturned. It wasn’t real. Nothing more than a master forgery, and I fell for it.
I check in with Janice, who seems to delight in my misery as she pulls three hours’ worth of pay out of my next check to replace my coveralls, and then I get to work. After forty-five minutes, I turn a corner and find myself back at the place where it all began.
The area beneath the skylight has been cordoned off. With hatred in my heart, I look up at the skylight and am instantly taken back to the moment when I was pulled into the air and swept away by the man who was not only able to steal a Picasso from the Met, but was able to steal my heart as well.