Page 33 of Mr. North
“What ?”
“How much do you want to leave him alone?”
“I don’t want anything!”
“Come on, Beth. Be real. Be honest. Name your number. I assure you I have enough to cover your greed.”
“You could pay me a hundred thousand dollars and I wouldn’t fucking take it. You’re a disgusting piece of—”
“One hundred grand,” Paxton says. He bows his head as he writes quickly into his checkbook. He rips out a check and hands it to me, smiling. “See. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
I snatch up the glass of ice water on the table in front of me and I pitch it in his face. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to do this. He gasps, his mouth flying open, his shoulders rocketing up around his ears. Jumping to his feet, he swats at his chest, as if that’s somehow going to dry him off. “Don’t just stand there, get me a towel!” he snarls at the waiter. The man hurries forward, holding out a plain white cloth that was draped over his arm, and Paxton starts dabbing crazily at his soaked shirt and suit jacket. The waiter gives me a stunned sideways glance and the very ghost of a smile, but I’m too pissed to join him in his amusement. Paxton’s cool, calm exterior is long gone as he pins me beneath a hateful gaze.
“You just fucked up,” he informs me. “You really just fucked up.”
I lean across the table, so there’s only a foot of space standing between us. My whole body is shaking, lit up with rage. “You know what, Paxton?” I fire back. “You’re the one who’s fucked up .”
* * *
I can’t affordto walk out on a workday halfway through it, so I go back to the library. The next five hours drag by, and even Henrietta doesn’t give me shit for being irritable. When six P.M. arrives, I don’t head home like I normally would. I march myself to the subway and ride four stops over to the Osiris Building. At the front desk, the same guy who helped me the other day is standing behind the desk, smartly dressed in an elegant suit, shirt and tie. He sees me coming, and all worry that I’ll have to remind him who I am flies out the window. “Ms. Dreymon, welcome back to the Osiris. I didn’t know you were going to be visiting us today.”
“I hadn’t planned on it. Something came up, though. Can you please let Raphael know I’m here? I need to talk to him.”
“No need,” Oliver says. “You have a standing appointment with Mr. North. He advised us to allow you immediate entry to the penthouse whenever you liked. Here, let me escort you to the elevator.”
Well, that’s a shock. He told them to let me up whenever I wanted? When did he give those orders? Before or after he spanked the living daylights out of me? Did he want me to be able to sneak into his place unannounced, perhaps dressed in sexy lingerie beneath a long coat, ready and willing to service him?
Oliver punches in the door code and moves aside so I can enter the private access room. He gives me a professional dip of the head, and then goes without another word.
I do not take my shoes off in the elevator.
It’s a stupid fucking rule anyway.
My ears pop as the elevator hurtles up toward the penthouse, and the entire time I’m swearing under my breath to myself, spitting mad. I bolt as soon as the doors open, striding across the anteroom, up to the glass door. I don’t ring the bell mounted on the side of the wall. I lay my open palm against the glass, hammering on it, until the curtain moves to the side and Raphael is standing there in front of me.
Shirtless.
He’s covered in sweat, his hair dripping, beads of perspiration rolling over his shoulders, down his chest. His muscular, smooth, perfectly carved chest. He’s wearing shorts and running shoes, and there are headphones shoved into his ears, like I just interrupted him running. I’ve never seen a private gym here at the penthouse but I don’t doubt for a second that there is one. Raph looks angry for a second, then he sees who’s waiting for him on the other side of the door and everything about him changes. He takes a step back, his shoulders squaring off.
“Beth,” he says softly. I can’t hear my name through the door but I can see the shape of it on his lips. I reach into my back pocket and I unfold the crumpled slip of paper I’ve kept there ever since lunch. I slap it against the glass for him to see. He leans forward to read and a deep frown forms between his brows. “Why did Paxton write you out a check for a hundred thousand dollars?” he asks. His voice is much louder now; I can hear him perfectly.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
His frown deepens. “I know nothing about this, Beth. Nothing .”
“So you didn’t start seeing me in the hope that I’d become your plaything? That you could buy me? Buy my time and my body, so you could use me whenever you saw fit? ’Cause that’s what your charming friend implied when he tried to pay me off this afternoon.”
Raph’s face is forged steel and carved stone. Hard. Expressionless. “You think I’d do that?”
“Yes! I mean, why else would you be paying me so much money to come and play chess with you? Why else would you have had that damn chair made? I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid. You’re a businessman. You’re smart with money. You could have played chess with anyone online for free. Goddamnit, I’m such an idiot.”
The rage that’s been building up inside me all day bursts free, surging out of me in violent waves. I’m more than angry; I’m furious. I can’t believe I got myself caught up in this shit. I have the biggest exam of my life to study for. I should be funneling every single last scrap of energy into my research and my notes, and yet I’ve wasted precious time on a man who simply wanted to pay me off in order to bed me. I’ve prided myself on remaining focused throughout law school, and to drop the ball now, so close to the end, is heartbreaking.
I turn and walk away. I barely make it three steps before the glass door is buzzing open and Raph is grabbing me by the shoulder. He spins me around, towering over me, his face hovering over mine. “I could have just played with someone online for free, you’re right. But they wouldn’t have had your eyes,” he says, his voice penetratingly deep and filled with some unknown emotion. “They wouldn’t have had your smile. Their hair wouldn’t have been so dark it’s almost black, highlighted with hints of warm brown and red. Their cheeks wouldn’t flush every time they looked up at me from beneath their sooty, charcoal lashes.” He thumps his fist against his bare chest, pounding against his ribcage, over his heart, startling me. “And my heart wouldn’t fucking feel like it was about to explode in my chest every time I heard her damn name, Beth. So, yeah. I chose you over seven billion other people. I saw that photograph of you and I fucking knew it had to be you. I didn’t ask Paxton to try and give you that money. I would never have sanctioned that. If I thought you’d take my money, I’d fucking shower you in it. Not because I want to buy you or pay for your affections. But because I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I want to make sure you have enough money in your account to pay your bills, and for school, and your rent, so when you come to see me and you walk through those elevator doors over there, you’re carefree and light. Without a worry in the damn world. If you want to be angry with me because of that, then fine. I’m a selfish prick. I’m a fucking greedy jerk. But you know I wasn’t trying to buy your affection.”
In all of our meetings up until this point, Raph has barely strung more than three sentences together at any one time. This tirade of words and emotion is so surprising and so real that I find myself gasping for air. I can see the truth in his eyes. He lays it bare there for me to see, painfully obvious, raw and undeniable. He really didn’t want anything from me. Paxton was wrong. Paxton is a lying piece of shit.
I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. Paxton’s crumpled check falls from my hand to the polished marble beneath my feet, and my body, locked and tense until this very moment, falls slack.
