Heat of the Night
Page 28

But he hadn’t fallen for her.
She sat down at the edge of the four-poster bed, looking around the bedroom in dismay. Decorated in shades of cream and yellow, the room boasted an antique dresser, a huge desk built into the wall, and a walk-in closet that was bigger than Christina’s bedroom back in San Diego. Everything was neat and pristine—her mother didn’t allow clutter—and, growing up, Annabelle had hated this perfect, impersonal room.
She was probably going to have to move back in here, until she found a place of her own, and she was not looking forward to being under the same roof as her parents again. But what choice did she have? No matter what Bryce said, she was not going to marry him. No matter how things had ended with Ryan, her time with him had shown her that she didn’t want to be with Bryce. She wanted a man who gave a damn about her, who made her feel beautiful and special, who made her laugh and appreciated her, and Bryce Worthington was not that man.
She still didn’t know why he’d dropped that bomb at the dinner table last night, without even speaking to her about it. After Ryan left, she’d gone up to her room and locked the door, refusing to talk to anyone, and she’d heard Bryce and his parents leaving, while he assured everyone that his fiancée was just a little “overwhelmed”. Overwhelmed, her ass. Who did he think he was, telling everyone they were back together out of the blue like that?
A sharp knock rapped on her door, and she lifted her head in irritation. “Yes?” she called.
“Miss Holmes,” came Magdalena’s polite voice, “Mr. Worthington is here to see you.”
She stifled a groan. Great. Bryce was back, no doubt to try and talk her into marrying him. For a moment she wanted to tell the housekeeper to kick him out, but then she realized this was the perfect opportunity to set things straight.
“Have him wait in the den,” she replied. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
As Magdalena’s footsteps retreated down the hall, Annabelle walked into her private bath and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked a little red, probably from all the crying she’d done after Ryan left. She turned on the faucet and bent down to splash some water on her face, then pinched her cheeks to give them some color. When she saw Bryce, she didn’t want to look like a gaunt, pathetic girl who’d been dumped—twice, actually.
He was standing at the bay window when she strode into the spacious den. She crossed the parquet floor and joined him, frowning when he tried to draw her into an embrace. “No, Bryce,” she said stiffly, shrugging his hands off her.
His pale-blue eyes flickered with annoyance. “I can’t hug you now?”
“No, you can’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What the hell was last night about? We’re not back together and you know it.”
He looked sheepish. “I know, it might have been a little presumptuous of me, but I thought you’d be happy.”
“Happy?” she echoed in disbelief. “You broke up with me because you wanted to take a walk on the wild side, and all of a sudden you want to marry me again?”
He shifted, great discomfort lining his face. “I made a mistake,” he said in a vague tone. “I realized right after I ended it just how much I missed you.”
She snorted. “Is that why you were making out with some girl at the Sheppard party?”
His eyes flashed. “Who told you that?” Before she could reply, the anger in his eyes faded, replaced with regret. “I messed up, okay? But I’m willing to make it up to you, sweetheart. I really want to marry you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t want to marry you.”
Bryce faltered. “You don’t?”
Was he seriously surprised? Shaking her head, Annabelle let out a harsh laugh. “Of course not. Why would I want to marry a guy who dumped me like a piece of trash?”
Bryce’s jaw tensed. He turned his head, his blue eyes focused on the sparkling water of the bay that sat a hundred yards away. When he finally turned back to her, suspicion hardened his face. “Is this about that guy you brought home last night?” His voice went cold. “I’m willing to forgive you for that, so why can’t you forgive me?”
“This isn’t some forgiveness contest,” she retorted. “And me not wanting to marry you has nothing to do with Ryan. Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not seeing each other anymore.”
Relief filled his eyes. “Then there’s no reason for us not to get back together.”
She released a frustrated sigh. “Why are you so eager to marry me? Is someone holding a gun to your head, for Pete’s sake?”
Something about his expression gave her pause. It wasn’t so much guilt as it was…fear? She uncrossed her arms, letting them dangle to her sides, suddenly feeling weary. “What the hell is going on, Bryce?”
He mumbled something.
“I can’t hear you,” she snapped.
“Your father,” he said, raising his voice.
She pursed her lips. “What about my father?”
“He threatened to fire me, okay?” Bryce spat out, sounding livid. “He said if I didn’t stop screwing around and do right by you, I’d lose my job.”
Horror swarmed her body like a cluster of hornets. He couldn’t possibly be serious. Her dad was controlling, sure, but not cruel. Right?
“If you’re lying to me, I swear to God, Bryce, I’ll kick your ass,” she said in a deadly voice.