Page 99 of Tender Offer
“Preston.” Her tone is cautious, hesitant. She’s looking at me like she can’t decipher my expression.
“You are a disappointment.” My voice cuts through the silence between me and the last person on earth I’d expect to hurt me.
How she can stand here and pretend to look offended is a masterclass of deception.
She clutches the glittery corset bodice that matches her manicure. “You can’t mean that,” she whispers.
“Can’t I?”
“W-what’s gotten into you?”
“I hate liars, no matter how pretty they come.”
The trap of her own lie constricts her throat. She closes her eyes and swallows. “I planned to tell you.”
“When?” I step closer. “On the plane home after you used me? Once I spent a small fortune feeding and housing you? Fucking you?” She winces. “I begged you for something real, and you proved to be an opportunist.”
My father kept me after a meeting to reveal that the woman I let into my life and home is nothing but a liar. A broke universitystudent. I didn’t want to believe it, but the proof he had was damning.
The real Heather Franklin has blonde hair and brown eyes. Her body is far from the palette of curves I’ve worshipped the last six months. Her smile can’t wake the sun or make the hardest days easier to survive. My father refuses to show me who this imposter really is, but he doesn’t miss a beat in reminding me how I put our family business in danger.
I still don’t know how she knew I’d be at the art museum where we met. The Talented Mr. Ripley horror stories of people in our networks being scammed—or worse—are warning enough to sever ties with a parasite before it’s too late.
I let my guard down, only for her to trample over my trust and heart pretending to be someone else.
“Preston, I swear, everything I told you about me is true.”
“Except your real identity. You weaseled your way into a study abroad program like you weaseled your way into my life. Was I a mark, someone who could cover your expenses?”
“What? No.” Her voice raises, but she catches herself. “I am sorry I lied. I do love you. What I feel is real.”
“And what I feel is betrayal,” I toss, no longer giving a damn who hears. “Do you know how many people slither up to me and my family under false pretenses?” I cut my eyes to my father. It hurts to look at her. “I loved you, Puff.” My voice trips over a crack. “I can’t see beyond the lies.”
“Please don’t do this. My real name is M—”
“You have until the end of the month to get out of my penthouse. The only reason you aren’t sleeping on the street tonight is because I know the real you is poor. Security will make regular check-ins to ensure you don’t vandalize or steal anything. I suggest you move up whatever return flight you have. You’re no longer welcome here.”
“Preston.”
“I leave for London tonight for good. In case it’s not clear, you no longer exist to me, Heather. You never existed at all.”
“Preston!”
“Security!” Three men in matching suits and earpieces appear at my side. “She doesn’t belong here,” I say to Puff’s tearstained face. “Show her out, and make sure she doesn’t come back.”
“We’ll file a formal complaint with the authorities if she does.” My father steps forward.
Her breath hitches, and she stumbles at the escort guiding her off the premises by the arm. Gala attendees stop and stare at the crying woman. What a fucking spectacle.
I tell myself not to look one last time. My heart splinters when I do.
I wanted her to be different.
A firm hand lands on my shoulder. “Come on, son,” my father says. “Let her go and move on. She showed you who she is.”
He guides me up the grand staircase, but not before I glance back at Puff rushing out the door. Thick cinnamon hair sways across her back, and it takes everything I have not to chase her.
“Son.”
