“Goodbye, Reuben.” She opened the door. “I’ve heard—and had—enough.”
With that, she stepped out of his life and closed the door firmly behind her.
Chapter 19
Reuben froze in place, his face flaming with humiliation and his stomach turning over.
She didn’t want him.
It was his worst fear, come nauseatingly, mortifyingly to life. That anyone who came to know the real man behind the rake wouldn’t want anything further to do with him. It was the true reason he never had more than one encounter with the same person. A single tryst, with a minimum of conversation. That was how much of Reuben the average woman wished to have.
His body was attractive. His true self, less so. Well-honed skills made him an exceptional lover, which added to his mystique and infamy. But it still wasn’t enough. The woman he loved was a courtesan who had lain with god only knew how many dullards, and even she didn’t want a second go with Reuben. No matter how much money he offered.
The door closed behind her with sickening finality.
Not with a slam. A slam would imply passion. Some degree of caring that she’d tied Reuben into knots and then sliced him in two.
Just a delicate, but firm click. No dramatics. No hesitation. A simple I’ve had enough followed by the sound of her feet striding briskly away.
Only a fool or a glutton for punishment would go after her.
Apparently, Reuben was just such a fool.
He raced to the door, then realized he was still shirtless. If Gladys didn’t want him now, she’d appreciate him even less if he caused a half-naked scandal in the middle of the Blushing Maid Inn.
Cursing beneath his breath, he dashed back to the sofa and dove for his discarded garments. Never before had it taken so long to shove his fists into sleeves and fasten a half dozen buttons.
By the time he burst out of his room and into the public corridor, there was no sign of her. He ran to the stairs, first peering down, then up. Faint footfalls echoed overhead. Given it was a popular hotel in the middle of a packed festival, those feet could belong to anyone.
Reuben prayed their owner was Gladys.
He took the stairs two at a time, three at a time, skidding onto the waxed wooden landing of the floor above just as she was fitting a key into a door.
The beleaguered sigh she did not bother to hide as she turned to face him almost broke him.
Her eyes were flat and uninterested. “Did I leave something behind?”
“Yes.” His voice scratched. “Me.”
She turned back to her door. “I meant to.”
“There’s not someone else, is there?” he blurted out, as fear and panic overtook him. “You said there wasn’t.”
She visibly gritted her teeth, then turned back to him. “What I said was, I’m not a courtesan anymore. You can’t buy me. I’m not for purchase.”
He stared at her, uncomprehending. If she wasn’t for sale, how was he supposed to win her? His looks, his body, and his bank account were all that he had to offer. If she’d already had her fill of the first two, and wasn’t interested in the latter…
“I just thought—” he began.
“You’ve never thought,” she said bitterly, the key shaking in her hand. “You haven’t thought about me, or any of the unfortunates you use up and discard like disposable handkerchiefs. You think you’re the flame of passion, but your fire is swift and destructive. There’s not a line of happy smiles behind you, but a trail of ashes. I shall not allow you to burn me. Not again.”
He frowned in confusion. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Never?” Her laugh was a broken looking-glass, humorless and sharp. “You are the cause of everything that has ever hurt me.”
“What are you talking about? I just met you, in that statue garden—”
“Yes. In that statue garden. Five years ago, when I was a wide-eyed virgin who had never so much as been asked to waltz. You plucked me out of the darkness, just as you did this week, grabbing me to you without consent or concern, as if I were a dandelion in your path, there to be admired for a moment and then blown to smithereens.”
