Everything But Perfect (16 page)

She licked her suddenly dry lips.
“Yes, that.”

“I’ll have to make it up to him.”
Suddenly, he stood and moved back to the bar, pouring another drink. “Sure you
don’t want one?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure.”

Mitch came back to the sofa. He
seemed agitated all of a sudden, prowling the borders of his cage. He raised
his glass. “Here’s to you getting rid of me,” he said bluntly. “After all, it’s
why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered, unable to
look at his face.

“I thought as much.”

“Mitch, I…” She hesitated,
looking away.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked,
his offhanded tone grating her nerves.

“No.”

“Good. The silent treatment is
getting old, sweetheart.”

“And you should know,” she
grumbled under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Pity. I thought I heard you
complaining.”

Her eyes met his. “What if I
was?”

“I’d have to deal with it.”

This time, her temper got the
better of her. “Yes, like always. Heavy handed with no remorse.”

“Did I ever hit you?” he suddenly
said.

“No.”

“Then heavy handed is a bit
harsh, wouldn’t you say?”

“No.” Dammit, she would not back
down from this anymore. “You didn’t need to hit me to do more than enough
damage, Mitch.”

His brows arched high. “What is
that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She looked away
quickly, not ready to tell him. “It meant nothing.”

Mitch stood, causing her to
flinch. He stared at her, indecision written all over his face. “Can you come
back tomorrow, when I’m not so tired?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My flight leaves at eight.”

“Then come back at seven.”

“I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

This time, it was her brows arching.
“Fine. I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because…every time I step
through that door, we argue. I’m tired of it.”

“You haven’t been through that
door in two months, sweetheart. It’s been sort of quite around here,” he
taunted.

Cheyanne stood, ready to leave.
This was getting her nowhere. Sara was wrong. Mitch wasn’t remorseful. There
was nothing here she could make real.

“I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll
leave.”

He was in her face within
seconds. “I—” He stopped at that point, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Fine, leave. No one is stopping you.”

“Yes, no one.” She turned, moved
toward the door, and then halting, turned back. “You are the most irritating
man on the planet. You’re hot then cold, mean then nice, loving then hurtful…”

“Feel better?” he asked.

“No, I don’t feel better!”

“Good, because seeing you again
hasn’t made me feel all that great, either.”

She threw her hands in the air.
“This is ridiculous. You don’t want me here. All we do is ripping each other
apart.”

“It’s what we are good at,
sweetheart.”

She shook her head, the tears
welling at the corners of her eyes. “I was good at a lot of things before meeting
you.”

“Except sex,” he said callously.
“You didn’t know about that until you met me.”

Her eyes widened in shock.
“You’re rude, despicable, and arrogant,” she ground out.

“Don’t forget bastard,
sweetheart. I do believe you said I was one, on more than one occasion.”

“Oh, yes. I can’t forget bastard,
now can I?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why must you always assume you
know how I feel?” she suddenly asked, her lower lip starting to quiver.

“If anyone is assuming how one
feels, it’s you, sweetheart.”

Her heart jolted at these words.
She turned and stared.

Mitch had said, what seemed a
lifetime ago, that he’d make walking away from him the hardest thing she’d ever
have to do. Most likely, when the time came, an impossibility she would not be
able to handle.

As she looked at him now, this
impossibility was coming true. Still, she had to salvage what she could of her
soul.

“Mitch, please…?” she begged.
“Make this easy for me, just this once.”

His stocking feet smothered by
the deep carpet, he stepped forward and drew her into his arms. “Not on your
life, sweetheart.”

She found herself leaning
forward, stopping just short of becoming damaged goods.

The pounding of her heart seemed
to match his. Their labored breathing was a steady rhythm. The smell of
consumed alcohol reached her, gathering her wits into flight mode.

“Never,” he said, crushing his
mouth to hers.

Cheyanne came alive, her hands
moving to his neck. She reached for his face, as his hands dove into her hair and
he kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. The pleasure intensified, then
deadened the moment he stopped, pushing her away.

Sparks had turned to flames, want
into need, and the intense heat from one kiss built the desire into explosive,
then crashed to burn.

This was not supposed to happen.
They could not walk away from it, yet they could not hold onto it, either.

Mitch rubbed his temples, looking
lost in the moment.

Cheyanne watched as his muscles
tensed, then flinched. She could barely make her feet respond, and found it
quite difficult to turn and aim for the door.

His words stopped her cold. “Come
by the office before your flight. I’ll have the papers ready for you.”

She nodded. Somehow, she got out
of the apartment in one piece, breaking into a million of them once inside the
elevator.

She hadn’t a clue Mitch could see
inside the elevator from a camera hooked to his apartment—a benefit to being
rich. Or, that once she fell apart, so had he.

The following morning, seven
sharp, she was inside his office building, talking to his secretary.

“Can I help you?” the woman
inquired.

“I’m here to see my hus…um, Mr.
Lavede.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Um, no,” she answered
truthfully, not really knowing how much she should tell this woman. “But he is
expecting me.”

As soon as the words came out of
her mouth, Mitch opened the door, and saw her. “It’s okay, Debra. She can come
in. And hold all calls until I say so.”

“Yes, Mr. Lavede.” Debra smiled
at Cheyanne, and then Mitch escorted her inside his office.

The room was huge, same as the
occupant, and had an incredible view of the city. She was a bit awestruck.

“Have a seat,” he said, moving
behind a massive desk.

“I’d rather not.”

“This isn’t going to take a few
seconds. You’re going to want to sit down.”

“I thought you said you’d have
them signed and I could just add my name to the dotted line,” she quibbled.

“It’s not that simple,
sweetheart,” he said, eyeing her.

She looked anywhere but at him.
The colorful watercolor behind his desk captured her attention. That, and the
half-smoked cigarette smoldering in an ashtray. She’d never seen him smoke;
then again, she didn’t really know him, did she?

Mitch stood, restless, moving to
her side of the desk. He leaned against it, crossing his arms and towering over
the space between them.

Cheyanne swallowed the lump in
her throat.

“So?” he questioned, leaving room
for her to start the conversation.

She wasn’t going to. Either he
did, or she would wait.

That wait turned painful. “Can I
have them?” she whispered.

“Have what?” he asked.

Her sigh was long and hard. “The
divorce papers, Mitch. Stop playing games with me. Let’s just get this over
with. I have a plane to catch.”

“I haven’t played any games with
you. If anyone has, it’s been you,” he disputed, albeit what looked reluctantly.

“I have no idea what you are
talking about.”

“Don’t you?” he asked
quizzically. “You’ve been playing quite the game of chess for two months. My
king against your queen, your knight against my pawn. Life to you is just a
game, isn’t it?”

It took her a long moment to get
over these words.

“You can talk backward and
forward until blue in the face, but I have no idea where you think I’ve played
games with you.”

“Yes, that’s right,” he said
harshly. “Dear, innocent Cheyanne. She thinks rules apply only to the pathetic
and weak.”

Cheyanne felt like a mouse in the
trap. Chew off the hand to survive, or bend at the neck and accept a quick
death. She already died inside, losing him. She chose hand.

Nevertheless, as always, he was
quicker and had moved back to his side of the desk. He physically tossed the
divorce papers at her. “Sign them. I’m sure you won’t read them,” he taunted.

Cheyanne picked up the packet,
opened it, and found that every page had been signed before she got here. He
then tossed a pen at her.

“Just helping the process go
smoothly,” he said, baiting her.

She was not ready to read them,
or sign them. If she were, it wouldn’t hurt so much just to hold onto them.
Very slowly, she set them back onto his desk.

“I was your pawn, wasn’t I,” he
said softly, this time without malice.

“I—I don’t…”

“You couldn’t even wait for my
touch to cool before you went into the arms of another. Was I so much of a
beast to you that you could do that do me, no remorse? You ran to Angel without
ever giving us a chance. Why? Was I that good at being your pawn, you thought
it wouldn’t hurt? Or did you just want to see how far you could go before I
cracked?”

Quick, shallow breaths were doing
her little good. She felt lightheaded, almost passed out. How in the world was
she supposed to answer an accusation like that? Then, for him to call her the
black knight in this marriage?

“I—” she stuttered, distraught
and confused. “I did nothing to warrant what you did to me when I got home.”

“You’d been with him, don’t deny
it. You came home with love in your eyes. Admit it! You made love to him,
didn’t you?”

“What difference does it make
now?” she said, surprisingly calm for the situation. “You won’t believe what I
say anyway.”

“How can I? The way you looked
that night, the way his cologne was all over you. God help me, you came back to
me as used goods. I wanted to kill you, then him. You’re damn lucky I only
ripped off a gown that I paid for.”

Taking a deep breath, she stood,
nearly fell, and then gasped for air. “No!” Her voice rising. “I’ve been with
no one, but you!”

He reached for her but she
flinched.

His eyes clearly said he did not
believe her.

“I may have left the party with
Angel, but only because you abandoned me. What was I supposed to do? Twiddle my
fingers, wondering where you went. I saw the way Georgiana looked at you, the
way she shoved knives in my back when you told her you married me. I was
jealous, and then I could not find you, so I left with the one person who
always had my back. Angel is my friend, nothing more. He’ll never be anything
more. Now, thanks to you, I’ve lost him too.”

She could not check the tears any
longer, allowing them to fall. “My heart broke in two that night. You broke me.
Nevertheless, it was what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? To prove yourself
worthy, you had to break my soul.”

Mitch rubbed the back of his
neck. “I never—then why did you lie to me?” he finished with.

“I never lied to you,” she said.
“What you saw
was
love, but it was love for you, no one else.”

Mitch briefly closed his eyes,
drawing in a ragged breath. “You don’t love me, Cheyanne…you can’t love me,” he
accused.

“I can’t?” she responded
pointedly. “Then why does it hurt so much to look at you now if I can’t?”

Chapter Sixteen

An eternity could have passed
between them, but neither would have noticed or cared. The silence complete,
Mitch was trying desperately to hold onto a sense of reality.

He wanted to be able to read her.
She’d been so easy to read before today. The simple, rich girl shadowed under
Daddy’s wing. The innocent, smudged with dirt and powder sugar, trying to prove
to the world she was worth reckoning.

That girl had change into a
seductive temptress before his eyes.

“Did you hear what I said,” she
asked.

Mitch said nothing, his breathing
shallow, and his discomfort real. He then admitted, “I heard you.”

“I see,” she said softly. “Well, I
won’t take up any more of your time.” She grabbed the divorce papers, clamping
onto them with one hand. “I’ll sign these on my way to the airport. Don’t
worry, I won’t lose them.”

Mitch watched her leave; didn’t
even try to stop her. The inside of his heart was burning. What was it about
him, he wondered, that kept him from letting her get inside? Pride? Hatred toward
the pain he’d suffered upon seeing her face that night?

She’d been with Angel, and he
couldn’t compete with what she had with another man. He’d never been that close
to anyone, let alone had a best friend willing to sacrifice everything for him.

He picked up a brass paperweight
and threw it across the room, shattering glass covering a piece of priceless
artwork.

“Dammit!” he yelled.

Debra was at his door within
second. “Mr. Lavede?”

He drew in a ragged breath,
smiled sheepishly. “It’s all right, Debra. No worries.”

“Well, I was worried. It sounded
like something crashed in here.” Her eyes then found the shattered frame. “Oh,
my.”

“Leave it be, Debra. It’ll remind
me of my loss the rest of the day.”

“Sir?”

“Nothing. Never mind I said
anything,” he said, dropping into his desk chair.

Thankfully, Debra knew when to
leave him alone.

****

“Oh, Rosa, what am I to do?” Cheyanne
asked the old woman pouring tea.

Rosa stopped long enough to cast
a sympathetic look her way.

“I can’t sign these!” She’d told
Mitch her flight left at eight, but she’d fibbed a little. It left at eight
p.m., not eight a.m. She was biding the time until then at the Estate.

Rosa sat down opposite her. “I
know you can’t, but what good is there in avoiding the inevitable?”

“If I sign these, it will mean
what I feel in here,” she said, tapping her chest, “…was a lie. It can’t be
that. It can be anything but a lie.”

“It was a lie to begin with, my
dear.”

Cheyanne’s eyes dove toward Rosa.

“I knew all along, Little Rose.
The rushed marriage, the odd looks, the constant arguing. You two were peas in
a pod, but in two different pods. Put together, you wanted to devour each
other. All you needed was a little time to work things out. I kept my mouth
shut, giving you what you needed. I never thought it would come to this.”

“Neither did I,” Cheyanne
answered sadly. Confession was hard do when the woman who practically raised
her was giving her ‘the look’.

“Did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

Rosa lowered her gaze.

“No. I couldn’t. He wasn’t in a
very listening mood, as usual.”

“You will have to, sooner rather
than later.”

“I know. I will. There’s still
time.”

“You can’t have something that
another is not willing to give you, Cheyanne. You tried that when you were
little. I know. I was there, watching your heart break all those times your
father didn’t care about your accomplishments. It seems to me, things weren’t
much different with Mitch. You wanted what he’s not willing to give you.”

“Not even if so desperately
wished for?”

Rosa shook her head sadly. “No,
Little Rose. The grownup world is cruel.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said,
setting her hand to her fluttering stomach.

“Some things can’t be bought. You
can’t beg for love, you can’t steal it, and if he’s not willing to share it
with you, then it won’t happen on its own. What do you want, Cheyanne? What
will make you happy?”

“I want my work. I want what my
brain says is right, but I also want what my heart knows is true.”

“And that is?”

“Everything, but perfect.” Cheyanne
then shook her head. “As you said, he’s not willing to give this to me. So I
will go back to Borneo with my tail between my knees, tell Angel he was right,
and maybe look into a convent while there.”

Rosa gave out a light chuckle,
patting the back of Cheyanne’s hand. “That’s my girl.” She rose, and then
waited. “Want and need are two very different things, my dear.”

Cheyanne raised her eyes.

“So don’t you dare leave New York
without telling him,” Rosa warned.

****

Hours later, she still hadn’t
told him, chickening out at the last second. Rosa would hate her, hell, Mitch
would likely hate her, but by the time she gained the courage to be truthful, she’d
be in Borneo and he’d just have to live with the consequences, same as she
would.

She held her head high, walking
down the tramway to the waiting area. Her duffel at her knees, she started
reading a magazine someone left on a chair.

“Is this seat taken,” a
honey-coated voice asked from behind her.

Cheyanne turned, and then
groaned. Just when she thought she could get away unscathed…

“Yes. My imaginary lover has it,”
she said rudely.

He is not behind me, making my
life miserable.

Mitch moved forward and sat down,
uninvited. “Then he’ll just have a man on his lap, won’t he?”

She turned and glared. Only six
others boarding her plane and he had to make this difficult.

He set a carryon on the floor
then leaned back in the seat. His poker face gave nothing away, nor did the
heavy sigh that pursed his lips.

“Why are you here?”

“Waiting for my flight, same as
you.”

“Can’t you wait for your flight
nearer to your actual plane?”

“Nope. Here’s just fine.”

“I’m sure it is,” she grumbled,
trying to avoid him by glancing at the magazine pages. Every word on the paper
blurred, her mind stalled.

“Dammit, Mitch. Why are you
here?”

His brows rose. “Didn’t you just
ask me that?”

“Yes, I did, and you did not
answer the question.”

He sat up straight, his smile
disappearing. “I got your packet. The courier brought it to me.”

“And?”

“You’re still my wife.”

“So?”

“Why didn’t you sign them?”

Her sigh burned through her
chest. “I—I just couldn’t.”

She’d sent the papers back to him
unsigned. She was making a stand, using every second of the four months to
remain Mrs. Lavede, an unloved woman.

“Why not?” he asked, facing her
now.

“I…Dammit, Mitch! Just holding
onto that pen was painful. I couldn’t do it because a little of me was dying,
and it hurt too much to die in that way.”

The need to get away from him
became overwhelming. She tried to rise out of her chair, but Mitch’s steely
grip held her in place.

“Don’t run away, Cheyanne.”

“I’m not running away. I need
air.”

What she needed was her head
examined, but there wasn’t time for that.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious
to where I’m going?” he asked.

She whipped around, staring at
him. “No.”

“Liar.”

She growled under her breath.

Mitch pulled a ticket from his
pocket. “It says here…Borneo. What a strange coincidence.”

“Are you going to spend the rest
of your life making mine miserable?” she snapped, needing to sit down.

“Now, Mrs. Lavede, is that any
way to talk to your husband?”

“You won’t be my husband for
long. I just need to get away from you, and then I’ll sign your damn papers.”

“You had all day to sign them,
sweetheart.”

“So?”

His smile lowered. “And I won’t
even bring up the fact you had me thinking you were already gone.”

“What if I was? It’s not as if
you have the right to care.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said smugly.
“I have every right to care, concerning you.”

“You haven’t before. Why start
now?”

Mitch didn’t answer this. He sat
back in his chair, neither saying a word.

“I burnt them,” he offered
softly.

“Burnt what?”

“The divorce papers.”

“You can’t burn divorce papers!”

“Why not?”

“Because…it’s—I’m sure it’s
illegal, somewhere. That’s why.”

“So is blackmailing a woman into
marriage illegal, and yet I went along with that.”

She would not answer this, her
head caught in a whirlwind to what was happening all of a sudden.

“I told you it wouldn’t be easy
to leave me,” he warned lightly.

She turned and stared at him. “Apparently,
it’s impossible.”

“Not impossible, just improbable…and
highly foolish.”

Cheyanne’s sigh went deep this
time. “God, I hate it when you’re right. Are you always going to be right?”

Suddenly the loudspeaker called out
her flight. Mitch heard it, his smile faltering. “You’re going to miss your
plane.”

She watched the other passengers
head toward boarding. “Somehow I’m not in that much of a hurry to leave New
York all of a sudden.”

Her words must have pleased him
because he leaned forward and kissed her. Lips that welcomed his touch, craved
his touch, tingled in response; they almost begged for more when he backed away.

“God, I have wanted to do that
for the past ten minutes.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked,
savoring the taste of him with her tongue.

His smile went deep. “I didn’t
want you to bite me until I knew for sure.”

“I would not have bitten you. At
least not in a public place,” she said truthfully. “And knew for sure what?”

Rich, dark laughter poured out of
him. “Jesus, I would have missed this with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dammit, Mrs. Lavede. I am not
letting you get on that airplane.”

“Y—you’re not letting me…?” she
balked at, narrowing her gaze.

Mitch shook his head. “No. I’m
not.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. With his other
hand, he grabbed hers and removed the wedding ring still on her finger. “This
is coming off of you, now.”

“What are you doing?” She tried
to pull her hand out of his grasp, but Mitch was too strong. Ten seconds later,
he opened the ring box and stuck a different ring on her finger.

“I’m putting on your finger a
real ring this time, and I am asking you to marry me, for real. No blackmail,
no company shares, just you, me…,” his eyes then lowered to her lap, “and baby
makes three.”

Cheyanne’s gasp was loud. “H-how
did you…”

His grin sunk so deep, the
dimples came out swift and sure. “I notice everything, sweetheart. I know
you’re pregnant.”

“But I—” She suddenly faltered on
the readied excuse.
How could he possibly know?

“You honestly thought you could
get away with not telling me you’re pregnant?”

“I was going to tell you—via
letter, postmarked Borneo,” she said sheepishly.

His chuckle went deep. “I’m sure
that would have been a letter worth reading.” He then got very serious. “Are you
willing to marry me, or not? You have one minute before your flight leaves. Not
much time to make up your mind.”

She looked down at the new ring.
It was gorgeous, even larger, and the tears welled. In spite of everything, she
had to speak her mind.

“You don’t love me, Mitch. Please
don’t ask me to marry you just because of this.” She set her hand on her flat
stomach. “I can’t take a marriage without love. I tried. It did not work for
me. Even if what we shared wasn’t real, it still hurt to lose you. It felt real
to me, in a strange way.”

“You haven’t lost me. Hell, after
you left my office,” he paused, drawing in a ragged breath, “I had to check my arrogance
at the door and admit losing you was the worst thing to happen to me. You broke
me, Mrs. Lavede.” A warm, seductive smile then graced his lips. “How is it
possible I let you break me?”