Chapter Eighteen
1329 Words
Chapter Eighteen
“Adalia,” Trent whispered into her ear, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
“I love waking up to you,” she murmured, then turned to put her arm across his brawny chest. But it hit linen instead, and she cracked an eyelid. Trent wasn’t in the bed, but stood beside it in a loose white T-shirt and a pair of worn in jeans.
He had one hand behind his back and the other in his pocket, with his hip c****d to the side like a male model.
“What are you doing?” She drew the word out with a groan. “Come back to bed right this minute.”
“Sorry, my love, I can’t do that. You need to get out of bed. We have some serious issues to discuss.” His grin faltered, then straightened, and he took his hand out of his pocket and rubbed his palm down the left side of his leg.
Adalia sat up, anxiety feathering through her chest. “What issues? Should I be worried? Is it DeShawn, did he –?”
Trent’s chuckle burst out of his mouth, but cut off short. “Relax, Adalia, but please do get out of bed, so we can talk about this.”
She swallowed hard, then slid her legs over the edge of the bed, and swung herself upright. If she had to get out of bed for this, it couldn’t be good.
“Trent, I –”
He dropped to his knee before she could get another word out, and the world ceased to exist.
“What are you doing?” Adalia breathed, grasping at her n***d chest. Good God, she didn’t have any clothes on.
“Quiet, I love you.” Trent’s tone brooked no complaints. “I’ve been thinking about this for a really long time, planning it for almost as long. I need you to know how I feel inside, because sometimes I don’t think it comes across right.”
Adalia couldn’t do anything but stare into his eyes and get lost in this insane, breathless moment. There were birds chirping somewhere, probably bees humming too. Nothing mattered.
“Adalia, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re sassy, but vulnerable at the same time, and you make me feel like a man. I can only hope that I make you feel like a woman too. I plan on doing it for the rest of my life.” He broke off and brought a maroon velvet box out from behind his back.
Trent popped the lid and exposed a ring. Adalia gasped. The diamond was nestled between two curling bands of platinum metal frosted with tiny sparkling gems.
“Adalia Montclair, will you marry me?”
‘Yes’ was the only answer to that question. Maybe even ‘hell yes’.
“Trent –”
Bang!
“What the f**k do you think you’re doing, Mr. Dawson?” Michelle Van Heerden crashed into the room with her hair drawn up in a high ponytail, strands sticking out at odd angles, creating a twisted halo that didn’t suit her personality.
“Michelle?” Trent turned, in utter confusion.
Van Heerden’s eyes traveled to Adalia’s n***d chest, and the corners of her lips curled upward in disdain. Adalia grasped the sheet and pulled it around herself.
“Did you forget me, darling?” Michelle asked, tone dripping sarcasm. “I would’ve thought that yesterday afternoon was etched into your damn memory.”
“Yesterday afternoon?” Adalia asked, and her stomach did a miniature trampoline belly flop.
“That’s right, yesterday afternoon,” Michelle replied.
Trent shook his head, but snapped the lid of the box shut and then rose from his knees. “You’re interrupting an important event, Ms. Van Heerden, and that interruption will cost you your job if you don’t leave this instant.”
But Michelle didn’t leave. If anything, her grin grew wider. She reached into her handbag and brought out her cell, then swiped her thumb across the screen. She charged forward and held it out at arm’s length, facing Adalia.
An image presented itself. Michelle in nothing but a thong and b*a, straddling Trent. It destroyed Adalia’s perceptions of the man she loved.
“This happened yesterday.” Van Heerden blinked at her, and Trent dove for the phone, but his assistant snatched it back to her chest.
“That’s not possible,” Adalia whispered, but the truth had already sunk in. Trent had left after the wedding... maybe he’d been with Michelle before they’d met up at his mansion. That had to be the answer.
He’d cheated on her and realized she’d find out. That was why he’d proposed. He wanted to lock her down before she found out. She stood and searched the room for her underwear and clothes. They were strewn across the carpet. Trent moved to block her path toward them.
“This is bullshit.” Trent ripped the phone from Michelle and tossed it at the wall, shattering it into pieces. The battery flew one way and the screen the other. “Michelle, you’re fired.”
“I don’t care, as long as we can be together, Trent.” Van Heerden fluttered a smile, and Adalia’s nausea rose in a tide. She clapped her hand to her mouth and swallowed the extra saliva reflexively.
This was a waking nightmare.
“Get the f**k out of my house, right now.” Trent trembled with rage, bare biceps lined with veins.
Michelle folded her arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“How could you do it?” Adalia asked, staring at the billionaire. There was sunlight now, streaming in and lighting the bed they’d slept in, where they’d spent hours of the night worshipping each other’s bodies.
“I didn’t touch that woman,” he growled.
“The photos say otherwise.” Adalia didn’t let the tears come yet. She’d wait until she was out of the mansion, in her loaned car. Loaned from the guy who’d f****d his assistant the day before he proposed to her.
“Yeah, yesterday he was so angry, I took him out for a couple drinks, and one thing led to another. It’s not like you ever really deserved him.” Michelle spread her arms in a forgiving gesture, as if this was Adalia’s fault she’d gotten in the way of Michelle and Trent’s relationship.
Trent charged at Michelle, who shrieked and hopped out of the way. She raced around to the other side of the bed, and cowered, though Adalia didn’t buy the fear for a second. This drama was exactly what Michelle wanted.
She was a liar, but the photos couldn’t lie. They had to be real.
“I’m leaving,” Adalia said out loud to the room more than to either of them. Trent stopped midstride – marching to Michelle – and turned back. That velvet box poked out from the gap in his fist, between his thumb and forefinger.
“You can’t leave. I love you.”
“Don’t lie anymore, Trent. It’s over. I don’t know what your motivation was for this whole charade, but if you loved me, you wouldn’t have had s*x with her. It’s as simple as that.” Adalia gritted her teeth and strolled to the door, inserting casual grace into her stride that she didn’t feel.
She swept her clothes up along the way. She’d change in the bathroom before her hasty escape.
Trent rushed back to her side and took her hand, but she tore it away from him, channeling her rage into that single motion. He actually started and stepped back. “This is insane. I didn’t sleep with Michelle. You can’t take her word over mine, pictures or not.”
“This was a mistake. I keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Just when I think I’ve got it right...” She laughed at herself, mirthless of course then continued. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over, Trent. I’m going to move out of your apartment, and I want out of the bakery.”
“Please don’t go,” Trent said, trying for her again. Her heart broke into irreparable fragments as she pulled away from him.
“Goodbye,” she replied. Then she walked out of the room, closed the door and changed on the spot, trying but failing to block out Michelle’s hysterical laughter and the low grumble of Trent’s vicious diatribe.
He didn’t bother coming after her, but that was because he’d never cared all that much.
Adalia Montclair wasn’t complete anymore, she never had been, and she was utterly broken.
There wasn’t enough sunlight to illuminate her path, not with all those tears blurring her vision.
- Writer
