Page 7 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

“Darling, I would love to propose to you.”

My eyes widened as tears started streaming down my face. I couldn't stop the flow. It was uncontrollable. My voice broke as I whispered, “Propose?”

“I would like you to move with me to New York.”

I stared at him blankly for a moment. He didn't reach back into his pocket. He didn't take out a ring or ask me anything else. He just let that question hang between us, suspended in front of my vision like a pesky spider building a poorly constructed web.

I blinked. “You want me to move to New York?”

“I think you're ready for it. I thinkwe'reready for it. My job is taking me there and I thought that it would be the best place for a budding designer like yourself!”

I withdrew my hand, placing it against my heart where I wore the necklace he gave me for my birthday. I fiddled with it. “You know how I feel about moving for someone.”

“I know and that's why I thought this was different.”

“This isn't any different.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, Clara? I'm nothing like your ex. I don't travel the world. I'm just going to one place and I want you to come with me.”

“And leave everyone behind? You have to be kidding me, Gabe.”

I sniffled. I hadn't stopped crying. I was just crying for a completely different reason.

I grabbed my purse from beneath the table and slung it over my shoulder as I stood up. “This isn't going to work. I have to go.”

“Wait, Clara! Don't go!”

“It's over, Gabe. I'm moving out.”

He reached out for me but I avoided his touch like the plague. I couldn't believe he didn't want to get married. I couldn't believe his idea of a proposal was asking me to sacrifice everything I had ever known. I ran away from him and out of the restaurant, stumbling up the sidewalk as if I had drank an entire bottle of wine to myself. But I hadn't. I was stone cold sober.

And that made it all the worse.

I whipped my phone from my purse and clicked on the one person I knew would understand: Jennifer. As the phone trilled in my ear, I skipped over to my car that I had parked across the street and locked myself in. I kept an eye on the front door of the restaurant.

I knew Gabe would likely come after me. Since Jennifer hadn't answered, I tossed my phone into the passenger's seat and turned the key in the ignition, carefully peeling away from the curb even as tears clouded my vision. I shook my head as I drove.

“I can't believe him,” I groaned. I reached for my phone again. “Come on, Jen. I need you right now. Pick up. Just pick up . . .”

The line rang endlessly. When Jen finally answered, I nearly squealed into the phone. I was blubbering so much that she had to tell me to calm down.

“I'm sorry,” I blurted. “It's been a night.”

“What's going on, sweetie?”

“It's Gabe. He didn't propose. He wants me to move to New York.”

Jen gasped. “No!”

“Yeah, he made it sound like it was going to be a proposal and then he dropped that heaping, steaming pile of trash right into my lap in the middle of the restaurant.”

“But it sounded like—oh, honey. I'm so sorry! The whole town was buzzing about him asking you to marry him.”

“And that's what I thought was going to happen.”

“Where are you? Are you still at the restaurant?”

I took a shaky breath. “No, I'm driving to your house. Are you home? Is that okay?”

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