Page 253 of Enthrall Shadows
Cameron’s recent warning echoed in my mind, “Pain is inevitable at some point. If you keep bolting, you’ll miss your chance at something wonderful.”
But he’d never allow a woman like me to become a Cole.
I shot off a text toGriffin, telling him I was ready to go home.
A dryheat hit me when I stepped outside the hotel door. This time, though, I left through the front entrance of Casa Del Mar.
The light Sunday morning traffic allowed me to arrive early.
I parked outside de Sade’s Mulholland home, still gripping the steering wheel as though some part of me knew this decision was a mistake.
Yet this felt like my only option.
I’d ditched the glamorous look of last night for jeans and a New York Giants T-shirt, Richard’s favorite team. He’d given it to me and wearing it made me happy—usually.
I’d turned off my phone as I’d left the gala and hadn’t turned it back on.
I wasn’t ready to face the fallout for what I’d done to the Cole family. Wasn’t ready to see texts from friends asking me why they saw me featured in the news—or from the Chrysalis staff wanting to discuss why I’d exposed our sacred place.
No way would Cameron let me work at his Beverly Hills clinic after that bombshell dropped. I wasn’t naïve. There’d be no tears. I had to surrender to my destiny.
There were too many memories at Chrysalis of Henry, and not enough. His gorgeous face and devastatingly handsome aura were causing me to second-guess myself.
I climbed out of my Jag and walked the short distance to the front door, where de Sade was waiting.
“You’re early.”
I took a deep breath, accepting the inevitable, and stepped inside his well-lit foyer.
He quirked a brow. “Here to shelve my offer?”
“Why would you say that?”
“I’m surprised no one talked you out of it.” He led me farther into the house. “How’s your head?”
“I didn’t drink that much last night,” I admitted.
“We finished off your bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal Rose.”
“I’m glad.”
“Rylee isn’t here,” he said. “The others are on their way.”
Following him down the hallway, I appreciated the way he swaggered in denim jeans, a far cry from his dashing tuxedo last night.
He hadn’t mentioned the news.
Maybe he hadn’t heard about my public humiliation—an issue that might affect this job offer.
We entered his kitchen, and I admired the stainless-steel paradise with white marble counters and bright blue tiles—a sunnier theme than I’d expect from a man with his disposition.
And there it was—the contract. It lay on the central island with a pen resting beside it.
Shoving down my roiling emotions, I sat on the barstool and stared at it. Strange how a few papers could drastically change an existence.
It wasn’t meant to go this way.
For a moment there, I’d seen another future.
