Read Online Heiress Behind the Headlines by Caitlin Crews - Free Book Online
Authors: Caitlin Crews
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manipulate you that weekend?” she managed to ask. She thrust aside any notion of Jack Sutton as her fiancé. It was too … much. She made herself smile, as if she felt cocky and amused. “I only remember leaving.”
Something moved across his face then, but still, he onlygazed at her for another long breath. She felt that shaking deep inside her, as if her very foundations stuttered when he was near.
“I will never do anything that might shake my grandfather’s faith in me,” he said and then smirked. “Tenuous as that faith may be, given the way I used to behave. It took me far too long to be the man I should have been, and I won’t give him reason to doubt it. Do you understand me?”
She thought she understood him all too well. It made her feel sick. Despair and shame and a hard kick of temper collided inside her, knotting her stomach.
“Like, for example, if you were seen with the likes of me,” she forced herself to say, amazed at how clear her voice was, at how calm she managed to sound. “That would soil you beyond redemption, surely.”
He only watched her for a moment, as if he was waiting for a certain reaction. A temper tantrum? Something violent and shocking? Or perhaps he thought she might simply roll her eyes and shrug it off? Make some light little remark—make it flirtatious and somehow safe? Or perhaps all of the above?
“I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings,” he said, in the way men did when they were not, in fact, the least bit apologetic. When they were only sorry that you hadn’t genuflected in gratitude as they eviscerated you. “But it’s the simple truth. You won’t get what you want from me, Larissa. Not tonight, not ever. No matter what happens.”
“What is it you think I want?” she asked, her voice a bare thread of sound. “And what do you think I’m willing to do to get it?”
And Jack only smiled, those dark eyes burning into her, the heat between them unmistakable. He stood there, so impossibly beautiful and so cruel, so confident that he could insult her like this, that she thought so little of herself thatshe would take it. That she would even use her body to try to sway him to her side—because he believed this was all some grand scheme of hers. That she was as obsessed with fortunes and spread sheets and inheritances as her family was—as he was.
That she would prostitute herself for it.
Another flash of temper ignited in her, setting off a chain—a wildfire. She had to take a breath to keep from letting it out in a scream of fury. At him, for believing such a thing. At herself, for having lived the kind of life that allowed for that impression.
She had never really gotten mad before, not really. She had always made certain to be too numb for that kind of thing. She’d always pushed unpleasant emotions off into other things—hidden them, or translated them into some other behavior, or acted them out in some other, inappropriate way.
But she wasn’t that person anymore, no matter what Jack Sutton seemed to think. She wasn’t. She wouldn’t be.
There was something freeing, she thought in some detached part of her brain, that she could be
this
angry at
this
man right here, right now, in
this
moment. Surely that was progress, however scraped raw she felt.
But she knew, on some deep level, that simply screaming at him was not the answer. He would only see it as some kind of confirmation. So she forced herself to take a breath, and then she bared her teeth at him, not her pretty little public smile at all.
“I don’t see the point of this conversation,” she said. “If you’re not going to play, why get in the game at all?”
“I want to see how far you’ll go,” he said at once—too quickly, she thought. His dark eyes were condemning now. His mouth twisted. “I want to see just how little shame you really have, Larissa.”
God, how she hated him. What a hypocrite he was. As if his own past didn’t look remarkably like her own! But if
Something moved across his face then, but still, he onlygazed at her for another long breath. She felt that shaking deep inside her, as if her very foundations stuttered when he was near.
“I will never do anything that might shake my grandfather’s faith in me,” he said and then smirked. “Tenuous as that faith may be, given the way I used to behave. It took me far too long to be the man I should have been, and I won’t give him reason to doubt it. Do you understand me?”
She thought she understood him all too well. It made her feel sick. Despair and shame and a hard kick of temper collided inside her, knotting her stomach.
“Like, for example, if you were seen with the likes of me,” she forced herself to say, amazed at how clear her voice was, at how calm she managed to sound. “That would soil you beyond redemption, surely.”
He only watched her for a moment, as if he was waiting for a certain reaction. A temper tantrum? Something violent and shocking? Or perhaps he thought she might simply roll her eyes and shrug it off? Make some light little remark—make it flirtatious and somehow safe? Or perhaps all of the above?
“I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings,” he said, in the way men did when they were not, in fact, the least bit apologetic. When they were only sorry that you hadn’t genuflected in gratitude as they eviscerated you. “But it’s the simple truth. You won’t get what you want from me, Larissa. Not tonight, not ever. No matter what happens.”
“What is it you think I want?” she asked, her voice a bare thread of sound. “And what do you think I’m willing to do to get it?”
And Jack only smiled, those dark eyes burning into her, the heat between them unmistakable. He stood there, so impossibly beautiful and so cruel, so confident that he could insult her like this, that she thought so little of herself thatshe would take it. That she would even use her body to try to sway him to her side—because he believed this was all some grand scheme of hers. That she was as obsessed with fortunes and spread sheets and inheritances as her family was—as he was.
That she would prostitute herself for it.
Another flash of temper ignited in her, setting off a chain—a wildfire. She had to take a breath to keep from letting it out in a scream of fury. At him, for believing such a thing. At herself, for having lived the kind of life that allowed for that impression.
She had never really gotten mad before, not really. She had always made certain to be too numb for that kind of thing. She’d always pushed unpleasant emotions off into other things—hidden them, or translated them into some other behavior, or acted them out in some other, inappropriate way.
But she wasn’t that person anymore, no matter what Jack Sutton seemed to think. She wasn’t. She wouldn’t be.
There was something freeing, she thought in some detached part of her brain, that she could be
this
angry at
this
man right here, right now, in
this
moment. Surely that was progress, however scraped raw she felt.
But she knew, on some deep level, that simply screaming at him was not the answer. He would only see it as some kind of confirmation. So she forced herself to take a breath, and then she bared her teeth at him, not her pretty little public smile at all.
“I don’t see the point of this conversation,” she said. “If you’re not going to play, why get in the game at all?”
“I want to see how far you’ll go,” he said at once—too quickly, she thought. His dark eyes were condemning now. His mouth twisted. “I want to see just how little shame you really have, Larissa.”
God, how she hated him. What a hypocrite he was. As if his own past didn’t look remarkably like her own! But if
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