A Millionaire for Cinderella (11 page)

“She’s not crazy about the idea, but I think Dr. O’Hara convinced her she was doing the smart thing. I told her you’d bring down a lot of her personal items and set up the front sitting room as much like her bedroom as possible.”

“Linens and nightstand are already down. And when I left, Nigel had taken up residence on the bed.” She’d passed the cat curled up in the center of the mattress, the same location he claimed on Ana’s regular bed.

“So long as she has Nigel, she’ll be more than comfortable,” Stuart replied. “Speaking of...have you spoken to your sister yet?”

“No. I got a message from her this morning saying she wanted to video chat, but we were unable to connect. I don’t know if she’s managed to look into Ana’s painting, though.”

“She has. I got an email from her just before you arrived.”

“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The index finger trailing down her arm gave her the answer. He’d been distracted.

“Did she say if she learned anything?” she asked, ignoring the goose bumps ghosting across her skin.

A slow smile broke across Stuart’s face. “Looks like we were right. A dealer did buy the contents of Nigel’s studio right after his death—I’m guessing that’s the man Grandpa Theodore hired—but it turns out that Nigel sold at least a couple pieces before his death. She gave Piper the name of the gallery owner who brokered the transaction. Piper and her boss were going to talk to him tomorrow.”

“That’s great! Wait.” Patience paused. “Did you say her boss was helping her?” To hear Piper talk, the two of them barely had contact.

“Maybe he’s helping her translate.”

That would make sense. Piper’s French was shaky. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed the gallery owner kept decent records.”

“Fingers, toes, and anything else you can think of,” Stuart replied. “I really want to make this happen for Ana.”

“Same here.” Especially if success meant Stuart would have a smile, as well. Patience was pretty sure she’d do anything to see that.

* * *

Stuart didn’t take two-hour lunches. Not unless there was a business meeting involved. But, with Patience, the time simply got away from him. Moreover, he didn’t care. If he didn’t have work to finish before Ana’s discharge, he would have been perfectly happy to let the lunch go on for three or four hours. The woman was so damn easy to talk to.

Easy to do a lot of things with, he thought with a smile.

You, pal, are in deep, aren’t you?
For once, he let his subconscious speak freely. He
was
in deep, and, to his amazement, the thought didn’t set off alarm bells. Why should it? Patience wasn’t Gloria. Patience didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t or tell him what she thought he wanted to hear. Instead, she was content to be with him—the real him. The one who wore thick glasses and talked about sunset differentials. Even at his most besotted, to steal his aunt’s word, Gloria didn’t make his insides feel light and joyful, the way Patience did. So, Stuart didn’t freak out at the notion he might be falling. In fact, he could see himself falling a lot deeper.

Someone cleared his throat. Stuart looked to the door, saw who it was and cringed. “Hey, Bob. Come on in.”

The overly tall, overly eager looking attorney stepped inside and closed the door behind him. No doubt meant as a gesture of confidentiality, it made Stuart wince nonetheless. “The investigator tracked down the information you needed,” he said, brandishing a thin manila envelope. “I know it took a little longer than expected, but we had a couple big cases come through, and since this was personal and you hadn’t followed up...”

“I thought I sent you an email telling you to cancel the investigation.”

“You—you did?” The color drained from Bob’s face. Associates hoping to be on the fast track hated to make mistakes, Bob more than most. “I didn’t see one.”

“A few weeks ago.” The Saturday following the dinner dance. Stuart distinctly remembered typing out the message before going to bed. Right before Nigel jumped up and demanded attention.

Damn. Was it possible he hadn’t hit Send? Now two people who didn’t need to know were aware of Patience’s secret.

Bob mistook his wiping his hand across his face for displeasure. “I am so sorry. The note must have gotten buried somehow...I...” He thrust the envelope at Stuart. “Are you sure you don’t need this information? I mean, it’s pretty interesting reading, I’ll say that.”

“You read it?”

Again Bob paled. “Um, only to make sure the report was complete. I wasn’t trying to pry...”

Like hell he wasn’t. The investigator’s notes were probably too salacious to pass up. He gave Bob a dismissive look, letting the associate know he was unhappy with his performance. “Doesn’t matter,” he made a point of saying. “I already know everything the investigator might have found.”

“You do?” Bob said. “Even the criminal record?”

Criminal record? Please no. Stuart squeezed the arms of his chair tight enough to snap them. It took every ounce of his control and then some to keep his face free of reaction. “Yes, even that.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll go finish the brief for Greenwood then.”

“You do that,” Stuart replied. “And Bob?” Man, but it was hard to talk with nausea rising in his throat. “If you ever get a personal project from a partner again? Mind your own business.”

The associate nodded before exiting as quickly as possible. Leaving Stuart alone.

With the manila envelope.

It had to be a mistake. Patience had told him everything, right? And he trusted her.

But what if...the possibility made him gag.

Only one way to be certain. He tore open the envelope.

“Dammit!” He slammed his fist on the desk, ignoring the pain shooting to his elbow. It was nothing compared to the hurt tearing through his insides. There, fastened to the top of the report, was everything he didn’t want to know.

* * *

“All right, Nigel, let’s get this straight. This is Ana’s new bed, not yours. Meaning you will give her space to lie down when she and Stuart get home from the hospital, okay?”

Which, Patience checked the clock on the mantel, should be in an hour or so. She smoothed the wrinkles from Ana’s comforter. The setup might not be ideal, but it would work for a month. Who knows? Ana might decide she liked living on the first floor.

We can be as loud as we want.
A delicious shiver ran down her spine as she remembered Stuart’s comment after Dr. O’Hara suggested the new arrangement. “Might as well make the most of what we have while we have it, right, Nigel?” she said, combing her fingers through Nigel’s fur.

Suddenly, the front door slammed with a force so hard it made the frame rattle against the wall. Stuart appeared in the doorway, wild-eyed and out of breath.

“Stuart, what’s wrong?” Instinctively, she took a step backward. He looked like a madman. The pupils in his eyes were blown wide, and while she’d seen them black with desire, she’d never seen them like this. “Did something happen to Ana?”

“Ana’s fine.”

“Then what?” This was not the man she had spent lunch sharing kisses with. This man looked like he wanted to...

Oh, no. She spied the crumpled papers in his fist. Pain began spreading across her chest, sharp like a heart attack. Why couldn’t the past have stayed buried for a little while longer?

“I can explain,” she said.

“Oh, I bet you can.” His voice had gone dead. “I bet you have a whole slew of explanations at the ready.”

“Stuart—”

“I trusted you,” he spit. “When you said you told me everything, I believed you, but you were lying.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I was telling the truth.”

“Oh, yeah?” He stalked closer, waving the papers in his fist like they were a club. “Then tell me. Why do I have a police record telling me you were a prostitute?”

CHAPTER TEN

T
HE
ACCUSATION
HUNG
between them, a fat, ugly cloud. Patience wished she could turn herself into Nigel. He’d run under the bed when Stuart slammed the door.

“This is what you were really hiding, wasn’t it? You didn’t want Ana to know who she’d hired. What she’d hired.”

What she’d hired? How dared he? “I am not a prostitute.”

“Your police record says otherwise.”

“Police records don’t tell the whole story.” A few sentences typed on a form. How could it possibly cover all the details?

Tell that to Stuart, though. His outburst seemed to let out some of his steam, making the anger more of a slow boil. Patience preferred the outrage. Folding his arms, he settled in a nearby chair, his eyes burning holes in her skin.

“Then by all means, enlighten me,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear the long version.”

“Why should I bother? You’ve obviously made up your mind.” Worse, she wasn’t entirely sure she could blame him after hiding the truth the way she had.

“Try me.”

Patience almost laughed, the comment was so close to his words the night of the dance. The night she should have come clean. He’d been willing to listen then. Now she wasn’t so sure.

In his chair, Stuart sat waiting. Her own personal judge and jury.

She took a deep breath. “You ever been to a place like Feathers? It’s not some upscale bachelors’ club. It’s a dive, with divey people. Some of the girls—a lot of the girls—did stuff on the side to make extra cash.”

“But not you.”

“No!” she snarled. She got it. He was angry and hurt, but to even suggest... How many nights had she spent in his arms offering herself to him, body and soul? She didn’t share herself like that with just anyone, and he should know that.

Stuart must have realized he’d crossed the line, as his voice lost its sharp edge. “How did you get lumped in with the others then?”

“One night, the cops raided the club, and hauled us all downtown. My lawyer said it would be too hard to fight the charge and I’d be better off pleading out to avoid jail time.”

“Too hard for whom? You or him?”

It was the first civil thing he’d said since walking in, and it was a question she’d asked herself dozens of time. “I just wanted the whole thing to go away so I did what he said. I didn’t want to risk breaking my promise to Piper.

“And that,” she said, sinking onto the edge of the bed, “is the long version.”

Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Patience stared at the floral duvet, counting the various blossoms. A tail brushed her ankle. Nigel making his escape to the kitchen. The lucky guy

Finally, Stuart broke the silence. “If all this is true, why did you lie? I might have understood if you’d told me first.”

“Because I wanted to forget the night ever happened. I felt dirty enough. To admit I not only danced like a cheap whore, but I was arrested like one, too?” No matter how tightly she wrapped her arms around her midsection, her stomach still ached every time she thought about it. “Do you have any idea how it felt the other night, having to tell you about my pathetic past? I wanted to salvage a little bit of dignity.” And also cling to him a little bit longer.

None of that mattered now. Patience had seen the loathing on Stuart’s face when he walked in.

“All I ever wanted from this job was respect.”

“You had my respect.”

Had.
Past tense. Her insides ripped in two. Hadn’t she known from the beginning getting involved with Stuart was a bad idea.
Don’t drop your defenses
, she’d told herself.
The crash would be worse if you let yourself care.

Well, she hadn’t listened, and the crash was killing her.

Stuart stood and crossed to the window. “I trusted you.” The same words he’d said when he first came in. Violating his trust had been her biggest crime of all.

Except...

“Did you?” she asked suddenly. “Did you really trust me?”

“You know I did. I told you about Gloria, for crying out loud.”

“Then how did you find out about my record?” Last time she looked, there wasn’t a criminal record fairy handing out information. A person had to go searching for it. “I don’t believe it. You had me investigated didn’t you?”

“I—” He couldn’t even look her in the eye.

“You did. Unbelievable.” Sitting here, making her feel bad about her violating
his
trust, when all the time... “Face it,
lapushka
.” She drew the word out as sourly as she could. “You never trusted me all, did you?”

“That’s not true.” Stuart shook his head.

Right. And she was the Queen of England. Suddenly, the brownstone was much too small for the two of them. She needed to leave right now.

“Where are you going?” Stuart asked when she stalked toward the foyer.

“Out.” Unless she was fired, she still had the right to come and go as she pleased. “I need some air.”

She noticed Stuart didn’t try to stop her. Looked like the fantasy truly was over.

Well, like she always said, Prince Charming ain’t walking through that door. Instead,
she
was walking out.

* * *

“Patience?” Soft though it was, Ana’s voice still managed to echo through the brownstone. “Where is she? I thought you said she was waiting for us at home?”

“I thought she was,” Stuart told her. A lie. He’d been
hoping
Patience was waiting for them. He had no idea if she’d ever come back after walking out.

This was his fault. If he hadn’t been such a jerk when he’d found out about her arrest. But he’d been hurt, and he’d lashed out.

A soft meow sounded behind them. “Nigel, my sweetie pie. Did you miss Mommy?” His aunt hobbled over to the stairway. “He looks like he’s lost weight. Don’t you think?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” At the moment, he was more concerned with Patience’s whereabouts. “Maybe she went to the store.”

Ana was trying to scratch an excited Nigel’s head without falling over. “But she knew we were on our way. Why wouldn’t she wait until we got here?”

“Perhaps she went to get something for your return. Tea, maybe.” But he’d already discounted his theory soon as the words left his mouth. “Or maybe she’s upstairs and can’t hear us in her room.” An equally lame suggestion, but he clung to the possibility.

“Tell you what,” he said, scooping up Nigel. “Why don’t I show you what we’ve set up in the front parlor? Then, while you and Nigel are having a good reunion, I’ll go see if I can track down Patience.”

But he was pretty sure he knew the answer. The air in the brownstone was different; the silence thicker than usual. By the time he went upstairs and spied Patience’s open bedroom door, he was certain.

He stood in the doorway while his heart shattered. The bed where they’d made love this morning had been stripped to the mattress, the bedding folded in neat piles waiting to be washed. She’d left the closet door open. One lone hanger, the only sign the space had ever held clothes, lay on the floor.

A blue scarf hung on the doorknob. He recognized it as the one Patience wore to the dinner dance. Balling the cloth in his fist, he pressed it to his cheek, and inhaled deep. He remembered the way her scent had teased him while they’d danced. The memory mocked him now. The pain in his chest threatened to cut him at the knees.

Dear God, but the house already felt emptier.
And it was all his fault.

On the bureau lay an envelope with Ana’s name scrawled across the front. No goodbye for him, he thought sadly. He didn’t deserve one.

“Is she upstairs?” Ana asked when he returned.

“No. She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone? I don’t understand.” Her eyes narrowed when he handed her the envelope. He was doing a lousy job of hiding his feelings, and she knew it. “What’s going on Stuart?”

“It’s complicated,” he replied. “You should read the letter.”

“Do you know what’s in it?”

“No.” But he could guess.

“What does she mean she couldn’t bear to face me after I found out?” Ana looked up with a frown. “Found out about what?”

It was the question he’d been dreading. “Patience...” Staring at his hands, he searched for the right words. “Turns out she was keeping secrets.” Briefly, he told her about Patience’s arrest and her job at Feathers, doing the best he could to leave out the gory details. When he finished, Ana looked back to the letter that was on her lap. “I’m sorry, Tetya.”

“I figured her story had to be something pretty awful for her to lie about it.”

“She was afraid—” He whipped his head around. “You knew she was lying?”

“Of course, I did. Surely you don’t think I’m that naive.” Her glare chased off any possible response. “I could tell she was hiding something during her interview. It was obvious she didn’t know a thing about being a proper housekeeper. And the way she stuttered on about forgetting her agency paperwork...the girl is not a very good liar, you know. After she left, I spoke to the agency, and they told me the real candidate had gotten stuck on the subway.”

Stuart owed his aunt an apology. She was far sharper than he gave her credit.

“Wait,” he said, backing off that thought. “If you knew she was lying, why did you hire her? Why didn’t you call her out on the story?”

“Because the poor dear was clearly desperate. Leaping at the chance to clean house?”

“Still, for all you knew, she could have been trying to rob you.” The questions were moot at this point. He was simply looking for grounds to justify his mistrust. Hoping for some sliver of a reason to prove he wasn’t an arrogant, jaded fool.

“Nonsense,” Ana replied. “Patience couldn’t hurt a fly. Anyone who spends five minutes with her can tell that.”

Yes, they could. Even he, with all his suspicion, had recognized her gentle sweetness. It’s why he’d fallen so hard in spite of himself.

“Besides, Nigel liked her and he doesn’t like just anyone. That alone told me I could trust her. As for not asking her story...I figured when the time came, she would tell me what I needed to know.”

In other words, his aunt had decided based on the opinion of a cat who, sadly enough, was a better judge of character than he was.

“In a lot of ways, Patience reminds me of the animals at the shelter,” she told him. “Lost and looking for a place to call home. I know it was a rash decision—a dangerous one, even—but I couldn’t turn her away.”

“When you put it that way...” It didn’t sound so rash at all. Simply confident in the goodness of human nature. Something he’d always had trouble with. He thought he’d conquered his mistrust, but apparently not.

“She has a way of getting under your skin, doesn’t she?” Now the guilt arrived, strong and harsh. He’d managed to do what his aunt couldn’t: chase Patience away. He’d let her sweetness frighten him and turn him into a bully.

“I’ve really screwed things up, haven’t I?” he said.

“Yes, you have.”

Ana never did believe in mincing words. “What do I do?” He looked to her face, hoping in her wisdom she’d have a solution.

“For starters, you can get me my housekeeper back. I care too much for her to lose her.”

“Me, too,” Stuart whispered. He should never have overreacted the way he did when he’d read Bob’s report. If he’d acted calmly, Patience might be here with him right now. Instead, he’d let his heart give in to suspicion. And she was gone.

“She’s never going to forgive me.”

“You’ll never know until you try.”

When he shook his head, she reached over and took his hands, her gnarled grip stronger than he expected. “Listen to me. I had the chance to fight for my Nigel. I didn’t and I lost him forever. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you. You have already missed out on so many years of happiness because of Theodore and that gold digger he married. Patience is your second chance. Don’t be like me, lapushka—fight for her.”

His aunt was right. He couldn’t give up on Patience. He had to find her if only to apologize for being an ass. “How did he track her down, though? He doubted she’d left a forwarding address at the bottom of her goodbye note. But....

There was one person Patience would contact no matter where she ran off to. One person she would never desert. And he had that person’s email address. A kernel of hope took root inside him.

Rising, he kissed Ana on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to send an important note to someone in France.”

* * *

“You look lousy.”

“Back at you.” Patience knew exactly how she looked. Tired and depressed. Same way she felt. “The beds at this place are like boards on stilts. I was tossing and turning half the night.” She missed the big comfy bed she had at Ana’s.

She missed a lot of things she had back at Ana’s.

But that was in the past. With a swipe of her hand, she brushed away her bangs and the painful thoughts. “I’ve got possible good news, though. The front desk clerk told me they’re hiring at the new Super Shopper’s Mart. I’m going to go apply today.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She’d need it. She couldn’t afford to hide away in a hotel room forever. Eventually, she was going to have to find a new job and a new place to live. Preferably soon, before she drained her savings and found herself living in her car. Again.

Funny how things came full circle.

“I just hope they don’t ask for a lot of references. Or ask too much about my previous position.”

“Maybe if you called Ana...”

“No.” Patience cut that suggestion right off. That possibility died when she’d walked out.

She hadn’t meant to leave so abruptly. Not at first, anyway. When she’d stormed out of the brownstone, she’d truly intended to just clear her head. Problem was, the more she walked around Beacon Hill, the more upset she got. At Stuart for being so damn suspicious of everybody. At the world for being so unfair in the first place.

But mostly at herself for being stupid enough to think she could bury the past. And for letting her guard down. She’d let herself care—more than care—and now her insides were being shredded for her foolishness. In the end, she’d decided she couldn’t face seeing Stuart or Ana again, and so when Stuart had left for the hospital, she’d packed her things.