Page 157 of The Bet
No.
No. He wouldn’t do this to her.
Maybe Jacob had heard wrong, and or had misunderstood whatever snippets of conversation he had heard. “That’s a lot of money, Jacob. It sounds like some sort of business deal to me.” She still hoped this was the case. “Maybe you didn’t hear properly.”
“I was in the room when they were talking, because I was looking for Iron Man behind the couch.”
“So they didn’t see you?”
“Nope.”
And they had no idea he had overheard.
A ten thousand dollar bet? On her? And it had been Xavier’s doing?
The three questions thudded through her like poison-tipped spears, one after the other.
“Xavier’s rich!” Jacob declared, happily, unaware of the tsunami of emotions he had unleashed on her unknowingly. “Are you happy I told you?”
She nodded her head weakly, and found herself sinking in the silence that followed, trying to sift through the debris of emotions. “You mustn’t mention this to anyone, Jacob. Okay?” She bent down to his level, and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I mean it, Jacob. Don’t tellanyone.” She was breaking inside, but still aware enough to make sure he wouldn’t tell anyone else.
His expression tightened. “I wanted to tell you.”
“This is our secret. And you mustn’t mention it to anyone, not even Xavier.”
She told Jacob that it was time to go home. He wanted to play in the park for longer, but she didn’t want to skate, or be here, or talk, or be around anyone.
Everything she had been looking forward to, making plans about their weekend getaway, looking forward to seeing him again—all of that happiness had been stripped away.
He’d screwed her over for a bet.
What a fool she’d been. She’d fallen for his charm, fallen for his lies, and look where it had gotten her. If only she had trusted her gut.
~ ~ ~
She had given him some dates for when they could go away.
A long weekend at the family home in the Hamptons. He would make sure that nobody would be there, and it would be all theirs. He knew she was wondering why he was taking his sweet time.
For Izzy he’d do anything. And he wanted to prove to her that he wasn’t the player she had expected him to be.
For now, there was work to be done. He’d sent her an urgent email earlier, asking for the figures back on the spreadsheets he’d sent over a few days ago. Now he needed them back sooner than he had anticipated, and, because he knew she had no tests this week, he chased her up for it, but she hadn’t replied to his email.
So he called her, but her phone went to voicemail.
After a second morning of not being able to contact her, he turned up at her apartment.
It was Cara who answered the door.
Something about the dirty look she flung at him, warned him that something wasn’t right.
“Is Izzy okay? I can’t get a hold of her.”
“She’s not here.”
“Has she gone home?” he asked. Because something odd was going on. “I’ve emailed her and called her and I can’t get through to her.”
“She’s gone home.”
