“The locks?” Rory repeated numbly. Locked out of the warehouse? A sick feeling churned inside her, but she was not surprised. Hadn’t she been dreading this day for months, knowing she was so far behind on the rent? The warehouse owners had at last reached the end of their patience.
She raised desperate eyes to Zeke. “Oh, Zeke, I have to do something. The government contractor is scheduled to come back tomorrow.” It cost her a great deal to make such a request, knowing how Zeke felt about her balloon company, but she swallowed her pride. “Isn’t there anything you can do to help me?”
“I’m afraid not, my dear.” He lowered his gaze, as though he were unable to meet her eyes. “You see I am the one who had the locks changed. I bought the warehouse.”
Rory stared at him with incomprehension. “You? You bought it?” A shaky laugh escaped her. “Great heavens and are you now planning to evict me?”
She wished he would smile, tell her this was all some sort of horrible joke, but the set of his mouth remained firm.
“It won’t make any difference, you know,” she said with far more conviction than she felt. “I’ll simply move my business elsewhere.”
“You can’t do that either. Hell, Rory, your crazy company is so far in debt to the banks, it won’t be difficult to buy up your notes and have your equipment impounded.”
Rory stared at him, disbelief warring with a feeling of stark betrayal. She could hardly comprehend it. Her worst nightmare was coming true, but it was not some stranger responsible, some cold-hearted banker, but Zeke, the man she loved.
“No,” she choked out at last. “I suppose nothing is too difficult for the great Mr. J. E. Morrison.”
“Rory.” He tried to take her hands, but she pulled away from him. “Damn it, Rory, be reasonable. I told you that when we were married, you wouldn’t have to worry about that ridiculous company anymore.”
“I knew you didn’t approve, but at least I thought at least would try to understood how much that ridiculous company means to me. If you truly cared for me—” One tear escaped to trickle down her cheek. She dashed it angrily aside. “How could you do this to me?”
Although he looked uncomfortable, Zeke folded his arms across his chest. “It’s for your own good.”
“My own good?” Rory cried bitterly. “No, Mr. Morrison, I don’t believe you were thinking about me at all, only what you wanted. Just because you are afraid to have any dreams, you can’t bear for anyone else to have them either.”
He flinched at that, but Rory was too caught up in her own misery to care. She paced off a few agitated steps. She wanted to fling herself at Zeke, rail at him, plead with him. But Kavanaughsdidn’t beg, and she could tell from the implacable set of Zeke’s jaw that it would do her no good.
“You won’t get away with this. I’ll fight you.” But even as she made the threat, she knew it was hopeless. He had wealth, power on his side, and a ruthless obstinacy she couldn’t hope to match. The tears flowed freely down her face now, too swiftly for her to stop them.
In sheer frustration, she gave a stack of the boxes a savage kick, sending them flying across the room. “You can just take your damned trousseau and get out of here. I never want to see you again.”
Zeke swore, but he attempted to gather her into his arms. “Blast it all, Rory, I’m only trying to prevent you from breaking your neck. Stop acting as though I was some kind of a monster.”
“You are a monster” She struggled wildly to break free of his embrace, her grief tumbling out in a rush of bitter words she didn’t mean, trying to hurt him as he was hurting her. “Everything Tessa warned me about you was true. You do ruin people’s lives. No wonder your mother died grieving for you.”
Zeke couldn’t have looked more stunned if she had dealt him a blow to the face, but Rory was beyond the point of caring. When his arms dropped to his side, abruptly releasing her, she sagged onto the chair. Burying her face in her hands, she gave vent to a flood of hot tears.
A deathlike silence settled over the flat. She felt a tentative touch upon her hair, but shrank from it. Then she heard Zeke fling something on the parlor table. His footsteps echoed across the room, and then she heard the slam of the door as it closed behind him.
Rory glanced up, tears yet streaming down her cheeks. Good, she thought savagely. He was gone. But instead of fiercely rejoicing, she only wanted to weep anew, as though her heart would break.
Sniffing, she groped for her handkerchief, her vision clearing enough to see what Zeke had left behind. If he had had the effrontery to leave that diamond ring, she would?—
But she paused, sitting frozen as she focused on the object glinting upon the parlor table. It was not the diamond, but a heavy metal ring of keys.
Nineteen
With a curt command, Zeke Morrison bade his astonished coachman to whip up the team and go back to Fifth Avenue or hell, Zeke didn’t care which. Trembling, the man was quick to obey, leaving Zeke to stalk off down McCreedy Street alone.
Hours later, Zeke was still wandering aimlessly, not knowing where he was going, caring even less. At first, his footsteps had been propelled by anger. Damn Aurora Rose Kavanaugh! And damn himself as well for being such a fool over her.
If she was so eager to break her neck, then let her. He should have flung the keys to the blasted warehouse at her instead of just dropping them on the table.
But such a mood could not last for long. His rage soon spent itself, leaving a tight ache in his chest, a sensation of vast emptiness that slowed his steps. So Rory had rejected him and he was alone again. It always came to that in the end. He had known that ever since the day he first ran away from the orphanage, maybe even from the day he was born, left to die by the woman who bore him.
But he had always managed to convince himself that it didn’t matter. He was strong enough to stand alone. He had a talent for survival, a knack for raking in the greenbacks. What more did he need?
He also had a knack for lousing up every relationship that had ever mattered to him. First his mother, then his sisters and now Rory. Zeke jammed his hands deep into his pockets. As afternoon shadows lengthened along the pavement, his thoughts returned to that scene in Rory’s flat.
