Country Love (A Billionaire BWWM Romance) (32 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Sanniyah

"Holy
shit, are you okay?"

He
just...stepped out in front of a bus. That was disturbing enough. But what is
more disturbing is the dead look in his eyes when I yank him back on to the
sidewalk.

It's
like he's just...not there. At all. The sparkle in his blue eyes is gone and
the color has somehow faded until they are as dull and flat as a doll's. He's
pale, paler than I thought a white person could get, even under his tan I can
see the sickly, almost deathly pallor. And the hand I am clutching to my chest
is clammy and limp as a dead fish. Without meaning to, I fling it away in
horror.

"Carter,
what the hell is going on?" I can feel the tears. He looks terrifying
right now.

"I
can't do it." He doesn't say this to me, but I hear it all the same.

"Do
what?"

He
blinks, and for a minute his eyes are right again.
 
Then they dart around behind me, taking
in the passing pedestrians, the honking cars, the tall buildings. And then it
begins to dawn on me. "Your agoraphobia...," I realize.

"No!"
he says sharply.

"It's
okay, shit, I shouldn't have done this, I should have known better, but I
thought you were okay since you came to me, Carter, I'm sorry I pushed
you..."

I reach
out to hug him to me, but he steps back, his arms tightly at his sides.
"No! Please. Sanniyah. Don't touch me right now, okay?"

"What
do you need?" I ask, feeling frantic. "We can go back, right now,
okay?"

"No."
He is still standing there, eyes darting, chest heaving.

My mind
races. He's not hearing me. His fists are clenched at his sides, knuckles
white. "Carter? I'm going to call someone, right now, okay?"
Frantically, I scroll through my phone for the number.

The ten
minutes that roll by are the longest I've ever spent in my life. Carter is
frozen in front of me, his face a mask of anger and shame. No matter how much I
tell him that it's okay, that I am sorry, he only says 'no,' over and over
again until the black car rolls up and Camilla jumps out.

"Carter,
here. Come right here." I feel my heart sink to see how he lets her lead
him into the safety of the black Towne car. The instant he is behind the tinted
glass, he relaxes.

"Thank
you for calling, Sanniyah." Camilla sounds concerned, distracted, and a
bit put out. "He shouldn't have pushed himself, it can undo all the good
he's done up to this point."

"I'm
sorry," I say dumbly.

"It's
okay," she answers tightly.

But I
know it isn't when she gets back into the car and shakes some pills into her hand.
Carter shoots me one last anguished glance, then pops them into his mouth, dry.
Then the door closes and he is gone.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Sanniyah

Already
my apartment feels too empty with him gone. I wander around, picking things up
and putting them down, until, with nothing left to distract me, I fall into bed,
wrapping myself in the sheets that still smell like him and cursing myself for
being my bull-headed self. Anger courses through me in waves, each wave
followed by another of heartbreak and sadness that startles me each time I feel
it.

When my
phone rings, I fairly leap for it without even looking at the number.
"Hello?" I stammer.

"I'm
trying to reach Sanniyah Jones?" The crisp, clipped voice of the woman on
the other end is familiar, but I find that I don't even give a shit. She's
tying up the line I need to use to find out if Carter is okay,

"This
is Sanniyah," I bark, "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm going to have to
call you back..."

"This
is Felicia Doyle at the Tribune Styles desk," she interrupts, smooth as
honey. "We spoke earlier?"

I feel
the anger drain out of me, leaving me with nothing but confusion as I sag onto
the bed. She finally calls me...now? "Yes, of course," I say, as
quiet and meek as a mouse.

"I
re-read your email, and did some preliminary background research and I would
love to do a piece on you, if that's okay."

My
heart should have leapt. This was what I had been doggedly pursuing for months
now. Why wasn't I elated? "That sounds fine," I manage dully.
 
Carter's stricken face is swimming in
front of my vision and I can feel my hand reaching up like he is standing in
front of me.

"Now,
before we get started, I do need to confirm a few things."

"Uh
huh."

"Can
you please verify that you are involved with Carter Easton?"

Everything
stops. "Excuse me?" I say as the hot blood begins to beat in my
temple. "What did you just ask me?"

"We
just received a tip about Carter Easton being sighted with a black woman who
fits your description. This is a huge story. Mr. Easton has been MIA for two
year now and...."

"I
know," I interrupt, cheeks flaming. "But can you please clear
something up for me? What does Carter Easton have to do with a story about my
business?"

Felicia
huffs into the phone. "Our readers are tired of the same sob stories about
poor people," she says dismissively. "Shelters, deprivation, it's all
depressing and boring." I see red as she breathlessly continues. "But
an angle like this? A girl like
you
ending up with a billionaire like Carter Easton?"

"Excuse
me?" I interject. Hot anger has been replaced with icy steel. "A girl
like me?"

Felicia
sniffs. "Let's not play the PC card, please, we're all grown-ups here. You
know what I meant."

"I'm
not actually sure that I do, " I say.

"You
know, Carter is...."

"White?"

"No!
Rich! And
you
ending up with him?
That's the kind of wish fulfillment I sell here at the Styles desk. That's the
angle I want to use. If you want to use me to sell your brand, you'd be wise to
play that up. Now," I can hear her tapping her pen impatiently, "we
already have the photographs of the two of you."

"Excuse
me?" I feel like a parrot, only able to repeat the same words over and
over again.

"The
photos, of you two on the sidewalk by McMahon Park. You were awfully
cozy."

It
feels like an unseen hand had closed itself around my throat. I make a
strangled sound that Felicia's business-like prattle plows right over as she
continues.
 
"They were brought
in only a few minutes ago. I can run those along side a glamor shot of you,
maybe we could even get a personal candid you can supply yourself? Oh yes, that
would be perfect." I can fairly hear the triumphant bloodlust in her
voice. "I just need you to confirm that yes, you and Carter Easton are
dating and we can get everything rolling."

I could
do it. Just one little word and I would nab a huge pictorial in the Styles
section. My name would be on the lips of every bride in the Tri-County area.
All I had to do was confirm what was actually the truth; that Carter Easton and
I, at least until a few hours ago, were indeed seeing each other.

All I
had to do was make his very worst fears a reality,

"Ms.
Doyle?"

"Yes,
Sanniyah?" She is so eager it makes me nauseous.

"Ms.
Jones will be fine."

She
pauses a little. I can tell it is rankling her how much she needs to have me
cooperate. "Of course, Ms. Jones. Go ahead."

"Ms.
Doyle, I just want to make sure we're clear. You are offering me a full page
spread in the Styles section, profiling my business for all of your
readers...how big is your circulation again?"

"131,000
paid subscribers and that's not including newstand." she sighs,
impatiently. "Ms. Jones, I really need..."

"Just
moment, I'm not through. But you're not actually going to profile my business
at all, are you? It's not really going to be
my
story at all...it's going to be a puff piece about Carter
Easton, who has made it quite clear, time and again, that he values his private
life above all other things?"

"Er,
no not exactly...."

"If
I did, indeed, have a personal relationship with Mr. Easton, don't you think I
would be aware of his desire for privacy, and don't you think I would know
better than to exploit him for my own personal gain?"

"Ms.
Jones, let me just be clear here, our readers..."

"No,
you are quite clear. Your readers need a hook, and he is the hook."

"Exactly,"
she sighs with relief. "Now if I can just get the confirmation...."

"I
can confirm one thing," I say, watching myself in the mirror.

"Go
ahead?"

"You
need to go fuck yourself, Ms. Doyle."

I throw
my phone onto the bed and sink into the covers, feeling the remnants of my
professional life fall in tatters around me. "Fuck it. While I'm at
it," I mutter to myself, and pick the phone back up again.

It goes
straight to voicemail, but I expected that.

"Hi
Cammy, it's Sanniyah. I have realized that I am no longer the right fit to be
your wedding planner. You deserve a true professional who will not let her
personal life get wrapped him in her business, and I'm afraid that person is
not me. I truly do wish you the best. "The tears are falling harder and
faster now, but I manage to choke out the one last thing I have to say.
"Please take care of Carter, and please tell him that I just gave up the
chance of a lifetime by refusing to talk to the press about him. It's not enough
to make up for today, but it's the least I can do, because...because...I love
him."

Chapter
 
Thirty-Nine

Carter

My
opponent is bigger than I am. Faster too. But I am angrier.

"Again!"
he shouts.

I can
feel the trickle of sweat as I focus on the pads. A jab, cross then knee and
this time I make solid contact with the pad each time. But not before my
instructor knocks me sideways with his other hand.

"Too
slow!" he shouts as I my ears ring.

I back
up, bouncing on my feet. Three solid weeks of training, four to five hours a
day, pushing myself to the breaking point every time, but I am still too slow.
I'm starting to get pissed.

I take
a breath and try to find my center. For a moment, Sanniyah's topaz eyes are all
I see, calming me. Then Instructor Gray shouts at me in his former drill
sergeant bark and I snap back into the room.

"Again,"
he barks.
 
"Bob and weave,
don't get back on your heels. And keep your fucking hands up."

I grit
my teeth and nod. Kickboxing was never on Dr. Kaplan's radar. His pills, his
sessions, they were all about letting go of the anger that consumed me.
Kickboxing is about focusing that rage. And each time I make contact with the
bag, I focus it into a tighter, and tighter ball.

Jab,
cross, knee, "Fuck!" I explode as Gray knocks me from the left.

"Keep
your damn hands up!"

"They
are up!" I shout back.

"Yeah?
Then how come I can do this?" He socks me in the right ear, and I hear
ringing.

"Dammit!"
I jab the mitts three times in quick succession, backing him up on his heels,
but he knocks the back of my head with a quick dart.

"Duck
before I punch you! Watch my eyes!" He advances quickly, forcing me to
duck and shield my face as he rains blows about my ears, I am backing up, again
and again, trying to get out from under his assault, when suddenly my heel
catches on something.

He has
me in the corner.

"Hands
up!" he shouts. There isn't any way I can get out of this. He has me
trapped and no centering or deep breathing is going to get me out. I am literally
backed in a fucking corner, the perfect fucking metaphor for the life I've led
for the past two years. I'm done, I can't live this way any more. I am done.

"They
are up!" I roar, surging forward. Gray's face changes from irritation to
focus as I fly at him, the fury of my jabs too quick for him to take in. I have
him back on his heels with two cross-kicks in quick succession. Each time my
fist slams into the bags, I hear a grunt and realize it's not me, it's him,
staggering backwards again and again until his foot slides off the floor mat
and he is on the ground and I am over him with my anger focused so tightly that
I could kill him right now.

Except
I don't, of course. Instead I reach out my hand. Gray clasps my forearm and I
lift him easily.

"Nice
work," he pants. "Think you're finally going to remember to keep your
hands up?"

"Yeah,"
I pant. "Not going to be backed into a corner...ever again." My own
words hang in the air for a second. "Can we take five, Gray? I need to
make a phone call."

I am
still in my sweaty, stinking workout clothes as I race out onto the deck. The
phone rings so long I am sure it's going to go to voicemail, but at the last
moment, I hear her sad voice as she answers the phone. "Carter."

"Sanniyah,"
I am still out of breath, but I don't think it's from the workout anymore.
"Listen, don't say anything, okay? I know it's been a few weeks, I know I
don't deserve to just call you up out of the blue like this, but I need to see
you. Just tell me where you are. I'm coming to you, okay? Do you hear me? I
don't care where you are. I'm ready.
 
I
am
coming to
you
."

"Carter..."
her voice is so heavy that I can feel myself shaking my head no, no, no even
before she continues. "Carter, this is not a good time."

"Sanniyah.
"My anger is a tight ball in my chest. I close my fists and feel, for the
first time, the space that has been created now that the anger doesn't fill me completely.
There is space for so much more. Passion, friendship...love. "You know I'm
not a planner, I don't wait for the right time...."

She
interrupts me with a short, barking laugh. "No, I mean that literally. Now
is not a good time." She heaves a hitching sigh. "I'm on my way to my
father's funeral."