Page 36 of Dating His Brother

I spun around, crossing my arms as I glared at him. “That’s funny. I told Jack that very same thing. That it was my life and I had to make my own decisions for my own happiness.”

He perked up. “You did?”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Before I knew the truth. The game’s over, Dawson. I know all about why you want me. And why you’re so desperate to convince me to be with you. Jack told me everything.”

“Jack doesn’t know anything about why I want to be with you,” he argued.

“He talked to your friend, Pete,” I told him, carefully watching the reaction on his face. “He knows, and nowIknow, why you showed up to that ball that night. Hell, for all I know you stalked me down in the park on purpose, because youdidrecognize me. Pete says you two were both on the prowl for a rich woman to con into falling in love with you. You wanted a sugar mama to fund your lifestyle, apparently, and thought I fit the bill. How perfect for you, right!? And to think I actually almost fell for it. You probably thought you hit the jackpot with me!”

“Izzy, no. You’ve got it all wrong…”

“All while you have your own family money that you refuse to use, pretending to be some poor boho starving artist,” I seethed, shaking my head. “Pathetic.”

“Isabella. Listen to me.” He rushed over, firmly placing his hands on my shoulders—following my eyes everywhere they tried to go to avoid him. “Pete’s full of shit. He may have made a joke about finding rich women or some nonsense like that, but why would I want to do that? You know I don’t want to live off of my family’s money. How would using a woman like that be any different? I don’t know what goes through Pete’s head, but that’s not why I was at the ball that night. I went for free drinks and a little fun. I swear to god I didn’t know the whole thing was for you. I didn’t know you’d be there.”

I shoved his hands off of me, putting a safe distance between us. “Give it a rest. I’m not falling for it this time.”

“Are you going to make me beg?” he asked in full seriousness.

“What!?” I shrieked.

“Do you want me to beg? Because I will.” Before I could answer, he dropped down to his knees in front of me. “Isabella, I meant it every single time I told you I loved you. The only lie I’ve told you is not saying I loved you the first time I felt it. I never wanted you for anything other than who you are as a person. Not this shallow heiress you show everyone else…that you keep trying to convince me you are. Butyou. The real you. The person you are deep down. I know you haven’t let her out in a long time, but I’ve seen glimpses of her just dying to get out. I want to see you let that side of yourself bloom. I want you to blossom in my hands.”

“Oh, just stop it!” I cried, jerking him up to his feet. “This is it. All there is to me is what you see standing in front of you. I’m rich, spoiled, and have no intention of changing or lowering my standards for you or anyone else. There’s nothing wrong or broken with me. I don’t need you to fix me. I just need you to leave me alone!” My hand flew out in front of me, pointing to the door. “Go! Just get out. Now.”

He pleaded with me with his eyes, but finally exhaled and hung his head—giving up. “If that’s what you really want,” he murmured.

“It is,” I barked, pointing again.

Slowly and silently, he slipped out the door. I slammed it shut and locked it. The moment I did, I broke down in tears all over again. But this time it was because I knew everything I had just said to him was a lie. There was more to me, and not only was she dying to get out, I was killing myself by keeping her hidden deep inside. I realized now I did want someone to save me, and I thought Dawson could do it. But I was wrong. That was all over now.

I sobbed on the floor for a long time before pulling myself together. Oh well, I thought. Sure, I lied. But so did he. We were even now.

I headed for my bedroom, desperate to crawl under my covers and hide away until the next morning. But my phone started ringing before I could make it that far. I glanced at the screen and picked up the call.

“Hi, Jada. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey, Izzy! I didn’t know if you’d pick up,” she stammered nervously. “How are you doing? Jack and I have been worried sick about you.”

“Fine,” I sighed, obviously lying.

“Right. Okay. That’s good…” she replied, pausing for a moment. “Well, the thing is…We still have the auditorium booked for next week. We really don’t want to put any pressure on you, but we have already spent a lot of money…I mean, that’s not important. It doesn’t matter, really.” She forced herself to spit the words out, but I could tell how much it pained her to say them. “What we do need, regardless of the money or anything else, is a final answer from you. And, well…I’m sorry, but I kind of need that answer now.”

“An answer?” I wiped my cheeks again. “You mean…which guy I choose?”

“No, no, no,” she shot back in a hurry. “We’ll worry about that part later. I just need to know if you’re still going to do it. The finale, I mean.”

I blinked, feeling slightly stunned. I didn’t think I had a choice. But now that I did, in light of everything that had just happened, I knew the answer right away.

“I’ll do it,” I told her. “I’ll be there, and I’ll pick one of the bachelors, as originally planned.”

20

Dawson

Ihad never done the conventional, safe thing. I was supposed to fall in line with my family’s expectations, wear a suit to work every day, and enjoy all the swindled money our grandfather left to us. No one understood why I walked away from it all. People rarely understood anything I did. And it wasn’t easy. I didn’t expect my fight for Izzy to be any easier. But I wanted her with the same determination that steered the rest of my life. I wasn’t going to give up, at least not without trying one last time.

The cashier in front of me was going painfully slow as she took my money, bagged up my stuff, and handed over my receipt. She was distracted by the Heartstring live stream blaring from her laptop. I tapped a pen impatiently on the counter, resisting the overwhelming urge to tell her to hurry it up.

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