And there it was. The confirmation I didn’t want but needed to hear.
“You truly believe love doesn’t exist. That what people feel for each other is nothing more than convenient fiction or biological impulse?”
He hesitated, and in that hesitation, I had my answer.
“People build entire lives waiting for something that doesn’t exist,” he said finally, his voice hard. “I refuse to be one of them.”
I nodded, a cold, solid wall erupting from where I’d foolishly let him break it down, brick by brick. “Then there’s nothing more to say.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave because I won’t parrot some Hallmark card sentiment about love conquering all?”
“I’m leaving because I’ve spent my life, and more importantly, my career surrounded by love,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’ve watched people sacrifice everything for it. I’ve seen it transform lives. And I deserve someone who at least acknowledges its existence, even if they haven’t experienced it themselves.”
“Anica—”
“I’m surrounded by it at work, Ca—Mr. Burkhardt,” I continued, refusing to let him interrupt. “I see it daily. And I can’t be with someone who looks me in the eye and tells me love is fiction. I won’t be someone’s ‘good time’ while they shop for a bride elsewhere. I deserve better than that.”
I turned away before he could respond, before the tears threatening to fall could betray me further. The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and I stepped inside, keeping my back straight, my chin high.
“Don’t let this be over,” he called after me, a note of desperation in his voice that I’d never heard before. “Please, Anica.”
“I’m notlettinganything happen.” I turned, meeting his gaze one last time. “But it is over. Some things can’t be fixed with money or power or orgasms, Callan. This is one of them.”
The doors closed before he could respond, and only then, alone in the descending elevator, did I allow the first tears to fall. They didn’t stop.
CHAPTER 16
Free Falling Without A Parachute
CALLAN
Twenty-nine billion dollars in assets, and I couldn’t buy back the ten seconds it took for Anica to walk out of my life. I stood frozen in place, staring at the closed elevator doors like the ghost of a man watching his own heart flatline on a hospital monitor.
“Cal? Where’s your girl?” Morgan called from the living room.
“She’s not—” I stopped, the words sticking in my throat. “She left.”
I turned back toward the living room, where my three friends lounged like they owned the place. Kris was already helping himself to my most expensive scotch, Morgan was scrolling through his phone with his feet propped on my coffee table, and Chance was examining the waffle maker with interest.
“Left? Like, to get something from her car?” Chance asked, looking up from the kitchen appliance.
“No,” I said flatly. “Like left. Gone. Possibly forever.”
That got their attention. Three heads snapped toward me with varying degrees of confusion.
“What the hell did you do?” Kris demanded, setting down his glass. “It’s been what, an hour since you slept with her? That’s a new record, even for you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I snapped, stalking to the bar and pouring myself a drink. At ten in the morning. Like the functional adult I clearly was. “She overheard us talking.”
Three identical expressions of realization dawned across their faces, followed quickly by winces.
“The ‘love doesn’t exist’ rant?” Morgan guessed.
“And the ‘just a good time’ comment,” I confirmed, downing half my scotch in one go.
“Shit,” Kris muttered.
“Yeah. Shit.” I dropped into an armchair, scrubbing a hand over my face. “She just... left. Told me she deserves better than someone who thinks love is fiction.”
