The Replacement (27 page)

I take a step back to create some distance between us and he reaches for my elbow. His touch is so soft, so gentle, the way it clashes with his hard tone causes me to bring my eyes to his. I struggle, but I manage to look at him dead on.

He exhales, cupping my face. “I
know
. I know exactly who you are. People talk, you know that.”

“Congratulations.” I blink, looking away.

“I’m not telling you this to embarrass you, to put you on the spot. I’m telling you this because I’ve invested enough time in getting to know you that I think I deserve a little respect, a little more than how you’re treating me right now. You feel something for me and you can’t tame it. I can’t tell you how to deal with that because it’s foreign to you, and you’re foreign to me. But I’m standing here and I’m telling you I fucking feel the same way and I want you. But I won’t settle for bread crumbs. I’m an all-or-nothing guy and I’m fully convinced you never do anything half-assed, so just face this, no matter how hard it is for you. Please.” He chances reaching for my hand and for a second, I let him hold it. “Don’t run from this. Stay. Let me fuck you and adore you at the same time. ‘Cause I can do that. I can give you both. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

The brush of his fingertips over mine brings those dreaded tears to my eyes but I push them back, fueled by an ungodly amount of rage surging over my bones. It feels violent and fraught, a strange and entirely volatile combination. I don’t know what to do with the anger, so I give it to him.

I pull my hand from his and step back.

“You apparently haven’t been paying attention,” I say dryly. “I do
everything
half-assed. I’m never all in or all out. I’m whatever suits me at the moment, and on the fence is usually the safest place to be. Whatever you’re looking for, I don’t have it to give to you. If you can’t handle what I’m offering, it’s not my problem. I’m hollow, Ryder. There’s nothing for you here. Don’t try to mold me into something you want to see.”

“I know exactly what I see, and I know it’s real.”

“Why are you so goddamn blind?” I shout. “I’m a whore! I’m rotten to the fucking core, and if you shake this crazy fantasy you have—of me and you frolicking in the fucking woods together, stargazing and listening to Fleetwood Mac—you’d fucking see that! You’d run in the other direction if you have even a shred of sense.”

“I told you I don’t care about your past, Elise! I care about who you are right now. I don’t believe you’re that girl anymore. Call me naïve, but even if you are, I think you can fucking change, and I think you
want
to. I think this whole town has been labeling you for so long, you started believing it yourself. Don’t let them tell you what you are.”

“They’re right! Don’t you understand that?”

“You haven’t been sleeping with anyone else while you’ve been with me, have you?
Have you
?” He grips my shoulders and shakes me. “Tell me if you have.”

“I fucked Nate,” I whisper, a shudder rolling through my chest.

Boom.

Just like that, it’s over. Ryder will never look at me the same. He made me say it, and while getting it off my chest should give me some sort of relief, it only makes my anger more potent. Natalie was right. Mission failed.

Ryder blinks, and his entire body goes still. “You and Nate? While you were with me.”

“Yes. I mean, before we ever—not since we’ve been sleeping together, no.”

A veil of hurt lowers over him, his gaze glassy. He doesn’t move. If the look on his face doesn’t kill me, the silence surrounding us will. “I know,” he finally says. His voice is quiet, the pounding in my chest drowning out the sound.

My limbs are deadweight. “What?”

“I know about Nate. I’ve known.”

“What are you…you what?”

“I just needed to hear it from you.”

A trickle of wetness teases the tops of my cheeks, and I can’t hold it back anymore. I cave right there, right in front of him. I can’t even bring myself to care that he’s witnessing it, because the weight’s too heavy and it feels too good to let it drop. “How long? How long have you known?”

“A while.”

“Did he tell you? Did someone tell you?”

“No one needed to tell me.”

“Why would you…” I press my hand to my throat, feeling it constrict beneath my fingers. “Keep seeing me…all this time.”

His face is still full of hurt but it reveals an edge of determination. He steps forward. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you. I want you.” He reaches out to smooth his thumb over my tears and I flinch, unsure if I’m more horrified by the fact that he’s known about Nate or that he’s still standing here instead of running out the door. “You never promised me exclusivity. But I’m telling you tonight. I don’t want to share you. If you’re going to see Nate—or anyone else while you’re seeing me, then this is the end of the road for me.”

My voice quivers and my knees shake. He can’t be serious. “You…you still want me?”

“Elise,” he breathes, moving with no hesitation. His arms swoop around me and enfold me against him. I’m numb. I’m safe, encased in his cocoon, but I can’t feel the warmth. He swallows hard, the pressure pressing against my forehead as he tucks my head into the crook of his neck. “I’m in love with you. Does that answer your question?”

I stiffen in his arms. Pressing back against his chest, I remove myself from his protective cage. Raising my gaze to his, I level him with lifeless eyes. “Please leave.”

“Elise—”

“I said
leave
.”

“What? No, wait. Listen—”

“Leave!” I shout, the sound barreling out of me like a siren. My body is stone, rooted to the floor, but my voice…my voice is an ocean of uproar. Ryder might want to give me this—this love I don’t deserve—but I refuse to accept the gift. To accept it would be the ultimate act of hurt, and I’ve already doled out more than I can live with. “Please,” I say softer, closing my eyes, “save those words for someone else. Leave and don’t ever come back, Ryder. I mean it.”

When I feel like I can look at him, I open my eyes.

“Just because I haven’t been with other guys while I’ve been seeing you doesn’t mean that I’ll be faithful. I’ve already hurt you. I will hurt you again. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I don’t accept that; I won’t buy it, do you hear me? You’re afraid.”

Damn right, I’m afraid.

I fix cold eyes on his and muster as much strength as I can to keep my tone stern. I have to deliver another hard blow. It’s the only way I’ll protect him. “I’m not a bird with a broken wing you can fix, do you understand? I’m not a dishwasher or a fucking garbage disposal. I’m Elise Duchamp, and I destroy relationships. I destroy people. Wives, girlfriends, good people. People like you. I fuck their husbands, their boyfriends, eat their food, sleep in their beds. Is that clear enough for you? And don’t you dare feel fucking sorry for me, because you know where I’ll head the second you walk out this door?” I steel myself, preparing for the final drop of the axe and the look on his face that will surely haunt me the minute it’s done its damage.

“Don’t do this.” He shakes his head, wiping a hand over his jaw. His eyes are pleading, like he knows what I’m about to say. “Goddamn it, don’t do it—”

“I’ll head to a man named Christian Walker, Ryder. One of the many married men I’ve had affairs with. I’ll sleep with him, and I won’t think twice about getting into his bed. Because that’s what I’m destined to be.”

“Stop it,” he seethes, his jaw working and nostrils flaring.

Lifting my chin, I step closer and bring us nose to nose. My tone drops, flat and hard as ice. “I will always be the other woman. Don’t ever forget that.”

“No.” He grips the side of my face, his lids filling with unshed, angry tears.

“There is no saving me, there is no future for us, and leaving is the smartest thing you will ever do.” I don’t know how I’ve mustered up the strength to say the words, and I know they’re striking where it hurts. But the pain they’re delivering will be nothing compared to what might happen if he sticks around.

“This won’t work,” he chokes out. “Go ahead. Give me all you’ve got. Rip my fucking heart out if that’s what you need to do. But it won’t change this. I love you and I know you love me.” He presses his nose against mine, his head cocking slightly as he sears me with sharp daggers. “And you can’t run from it, Elise Duchamp.”

With that, he releases me and walks out, and a part of me leaves with him. I may never get that part back. But he’s wrong. I can run from it. And I will.

CHAPTER 14

My long white gown sparkles as I descend the wide, luxurious staircase. It’s embedded with tiny rhinestones—possibly real diamonds, for all I know, I didn’t buy it—and scoops low at the small of my back. A matching fur shawl drapes over my shoulders and I’m gripping my clutch at my side, scanning the ballroom for him. My pressed blonde waves sit softly at my shoulders, caressing my skin like silk, and my black and silver masquerade mask shimmers beneath the dim, romantic lighting. It’s just wide enough to conceal the tops of my cheekbones, providing a glimpse of my gaze through the eye cut-out slits.

Couples are dancing below while champagne and Christmas themed hors d’oeuvres are served on ornate silver platters. I descend slowly, watching the event unfold in slow motion. A sea of evening gowns and tuxes rolls before me, casting me in a hypnotic spell. Everything about tonight holds me in a daze, but it’s a much needed distraction from the hellish work week I’ve had.

Natalie and I resumed shifts together as if nothing ever happened. It should have been a relief, to be able to go to work and carry on with my job in peace, but the fact that she was acting so indifferent rattled me to the core. We kept our distance from one another and barely spoke unless it was work related, but it was her eyes that said so much. They were empty and cold, as if I were a complete stranger. That made me more uncomfortable than any dirty look or angry remark ever could. She’s made her position clear. I am dead to her.

When I reach the bottom of the staircase, a set of flawless, shiny teeth flashes at me surrounded by sharp black and white—an equally flawless tuxedo. It’s tailored for a king, and Christian wears it like one.

“There you are,” he smiles brightly, offering me his arm. His face is concealed by a black masquerade mask, but I can see his eyes travel down my body as he devours every inch of me. “I can’t get over how stunning you are tonight. Where have you been, Beautiful? You keep slipping away from me.”

“Just needed to make a few phone calls,” I lie, plastering on a small smile. I’ve been sneaking out to smoke, a nasty new habit I’ve recently picked up. I’ve made it a point to bring a bottle of body mist along to dilute the smell because Christian hates cigarette smoke, and I’m hoping that at the rate I’m downing glasses of champagne, the smell of the booze will drown out any remaining nicotine on my breath.

Christian’s eyes rake up and down and he licks his lips before leaning in to speak in my ear. “You must be hungry. I know I am. Come with me.” He sidles up to my side and my arm wraps around his, allowing him to lead the way. Gotan Project’s “Época” croons in the background and I notice the chandelier lighting is beginning to look a little fuzzy. I stumble slightly, wobbling in my heels, and Christian’s arm tightens, providing me a steady weight to lean on to. “Easy there,” he chuckles softly, in that smooth, sensual tone I know so well.

He watches me collect myself and then guides me through the sea of guests, to the edge of the ballroom. He directs us around a corner and down a hall, leading me further down a narrower hallway that leads to a private office space of some sort. Before I can ask where he’s taking me, I’m thrust up against the wall and my thigh is lifted around his hip. One of his hands glides up the daring slit of my gown, grasping at the top of my thigh, while the other goes for his bow tie, frantically working to loosen it. “I can’t wait a second longer,” he breathes, smothering me in the heat of a kiss. “I need to feel you.”

I gasp as his fingers breach my panty line, turning my head to the side to breathe. He attacks my neck with his tongue and teeth, and I bite back a groan. Not because I don’t want any passerby to hear me, but because I don’t want him to hear me. I don’t want him to know he’s affecting me. I don’t want to give him any more encouragement than I already have, but it’s too late and there’s no undoing what I’ve done.

Sadly, my body has always been a slave to him, and my consumption of champagne is only aiding my traitorous flesh. I let him nibble at my neck, let him stroke me until I’m wet against his hand, but that feeling comes over me again and I have to beg him to stop.

“What is it, baby?” He pulls back a hair, dazed but full of determination to make sure I’m okay. “Have I hurt you?”

“God no,” I pant, straightening myself against the wall, bringing my palms flat against the cool wallpaper. “It’s just strange. Tonight I feel like…”

“Feel like what?”

“As if someone’s watching us.”

Christian grins, all wicked and dashing, his eyes flicking up to scan the hallway ceiling. “Well, I don’t doubt there are security cameras around. You’ve never had a problem with exhibitionism before. Is my girl suddenly afraid of giving someone a little show?” He snickers, and his eyes glint with delight. “I still have that video, you know. The one Chad and his friends filmed of us—”