The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad boys #1)(74)

But as his heart pounded fast behind his ribs, he feared giving her what she needed would cost him what he needed.

Her.

Chapter 18

City lights moved outside the tinted windows on the quiet ride back from her parents' anniversary party. The air in the backseat of the town car was thick and restrictive. The interior as dark as the deep furrow in Reese's brow.

Merina was exhausted from an evening spent putting on a show for her parents' guests. Forced to look happy and in love—only one of which was true. Who knew she could be miserable and in love? That was a first.

Her parents danced, toasted, and regaled the crowd with a retelling of their engagement. State Street, the ice skating rink, her father on bended knee in freshly fallen snow. It was a story she'd heard a hundred times and one that always made her heart full. Tonight, it made her chest feel like it was filled with cement, the weight of it sagging her shoulders. Could have been Reese's reaction. She'd watched him while her parents spoke. The way his lips were rigid when he forced a smile. The way he white-knuckled his scotch glass. How stiffly he'd held her when he danced with her out of obligation.

"All in all not a bad night," she lied, picking a speck of lint from her skirt. Someone had to break the suffocating silence.

Reese emitted a noncommittal grunt.

This week had been chipping away at her soul. Not because she'd had to pretend to want to touch him, talk to him, and spend time with him for the press's sake. The hideous truth was that she wanted to touch him, talk to him, and spend time with him. Even after he'd made it clear that he didn't want her.

Resisting him had been harder than she'd imagined. That same ache of loneliness when she'd first moved in with him attacked again. Only now she was lonely for him.

Sleeping in separate bedrooms was one of the hardest adjustments of her life. She'd grown used to that closeness, his warmth and hardness at her back. She'd come to miss him teasing her about using his coffee mug in the morning. Now he was gone by the time she got up.

Reese put his hand to his head and massaged his temple. It wasn't the first time he'd done it tonight.

"Still not feeling well?" she asked. The more she tried not to care, the more she was reminded she did.

"It's the same headache I've had for days." He adjusted his tie—purple and paired with a dark gray suit and pale gray shirt. His face was trimmed close, his hair in its usual state of perfection. He smelled good, looked great, and knowing she wasn't free to touch him in private made her heart squeeze painfully.

No doubt her parents' invitation at the end of the evening hadn't helped his aching head. Hell, Merina felt a migraine of her own brewing the moment her father opened his mouth.

"Merina is a very important part of our love story," Mark said. "And you, Reese, are now an important part of hers."

Oh God. Oh no. Her father was a sap, and he was about to make a huge mistake.

"Dad."

But he kept talking. Kept digging.

"This year, we want to include you two in our tradition."

She didn't dare look up at Reese, who stood stock-still and stone silent next to her.

Jolie leaned over and kissed Merina's cheek. "Wait until you've been together twenty-five years and have a daughter of your own to embarrass."

They'd invited Reese and Merina to the ice rink on State Street in December. It was her parent's annual tradition, though now they sipped hot cocoa instead of lacing up their skates.

She and Reese had endured the invitation as graciously as two people who knew they would be divorced by then could. Shortly after, they made their escape from the Van Heusen ballroom where a town car, complete with driver, waited.

Now they rode in the backseat, ensconced in silence. Someone needed to address what had happened tonight. May as well be her.

"They genuinely like you, you know." Not what she'd meant to say, but it was true. He should know that her parents weren't putting on a show. "We had a rough start but you won them over."

Reese shifted in his seat, mouth a grim line as he stared straight ahead.

"Can you at least talk to me?" she whispered.

He faced her, handsome and hard, and she couldn't bear it any longer. She'd cracked through this façade once before. She could do it again.

"Reese. Let's—"

"We're here," Reese said as the car pulled into the driveway of their Lake Shore Drive mansion.

So they were. She looked out the window at the home she'd soon be leaving.

"Driver," Reese said. "I'll need to go straight to the Crane Hotel."

"Very well, sir," the man said, eyes dashing to the rearview mirror.

"Reese—" But once again he cut her off.

"Darling, I'll be late," he said, his voice as flat as his expression. As empty as his heart.

There was no getting him back. The only thing she could do now was move on.

"Take your time," she snapped, then pushed her way out of the town car and went inside. Alone.

* * *

Merina hadn't been able to sleep that night, which was nothing new. What was new was the combination of being angry and worried about Reese—because he wasn't "late" as he'd said he'd be.

He never came home.

If they were in a real marriage, he'd owe her an explanation. At the very least a phone call from atop the Crane Hotel where her husband had gone to brood. She refused to chase him.

Or so she thought.

By Monday morning she found herself outside of the Crane, thinking about how this morning was vastly different from the ones before it. Before Reese Crane filled her thoughts. Before she loved him. The sight of his big, stupid hotel looming overhead made her want to grab a handful of rocks and vandalize it. Shatter all that perfect, pretty glass.

Perfection was a lie.

Inside the pristine shining interior of the Crane, she bypassed the lobby and punched the elevator button. She rode to the top floor, arms folded, eyes staring unseeing as the doors opened and closed again, letting various guests on and off.

Finally she arrived at the top floor. Bobbie was at her desk, guarding the double doors of Crane's office as usual.