“Class?” Prince said quietly. “You’re fucking right! You don’t know what class is, you gold-digging bitch!” Angelique worked to keep her mouth from dropping open. “Sasha has more class in her little finger than you would know what to do with.”
“How dare you!” she hissed, finally realizing that this conversation was never going to turn in her favor. “You think people weren’t laughing while you were parading that slut around?” A movement behind her made her aware that Andy had stepped closer. Prince was recoiling, but she continued. “She’s nothing like us. Nothing! You could dress her in designer labels and shower her with shiny baubles, but she’s still just a whore!”
“The only whore here is you, Angelique,” he bit out. “Your mother pimped you out for years, hoping to find a family that would embrace you. Anyone with any breeding could see it. I was simply too stupid. Or maybe I hoped you were better.” He huffed, then ran a hand through his hair. The more she looked at him, the more she could see something was wrong – something she couldn’t fix or turn in her favor. These were details that Angelique didn’t relish. “It doesn’t matter now,” he added. “I’ve found the woman of my dreams. And she’s not you.”
Bitter disappointment was swirling. “But I could be,” she said. “Don’t you see that? If this wedding was supposed to go ahead, it would have. We were meant to be together. The Walkers and the Delavignes…we could rule Manhattan together…” It was a desperate final attempt, but she wasn’t going without a fight. A fight she could sense she was losing. He was staring at her. Not in a way that men usually stared at Angelique Delavigne, but she could still try to work with that. Attention was something she’d learned to manipulate since she was a child.
She flicked her hair and pushed out her chest. Beneath the expensive white wool of her Armani jacket lay little more than a La Perla bustier and her own sweet curves. She angled herself so that he’d get a glimpse of the swell of her breasts. But he was narrowing his eyes, not even glancing down as he continued his cool assessment of her features.
“People are not pawns to be bargained with,” he said softly. “You can’t put a price on someone’s head, and demand people pay it.” He was looking beyond her now, and somehow Angelique got the impression he wasn’t talking about her. There was a vulnerability in his expression that drew her. Vulnerability was something she wasn’t used to seeing in this man. She leaned forward and slid her fingers behind his neck, leaning in to brush her lips against his.
“You’re so sad, darling,” she whispered. “Let me make you happy again. I know how to do it.”
Prince shook his head as if waking up from a dream. “You never did, Angelique. We were never happy. We were never right for each other, and we never will be. I don’t want to see you again.” Angelique swallowed hard. There was no way her mother would accept this outcome. No way she could tolerate it herself, either.
“You don’t decide that,” she hissed. “I make those decisions. Don’t you see that?” The damn fool didn’t know what was good for him. He stared at her silently for a second, then peeled her fingers away from his neck and pulled back. Angelique felt a wave of rage so hot she wanted to rake her nails across his face. But something in his expression told her that would be pushing things too far. Something had changed in him, and it was a change she didn’t know how to control.
“Get her out of here!” Prince said to his friend, shoving her away so abruptly she almost slid off the desk. Andy put a hand beneath her elbow, and Angelique felt herself being steered toward the door. The man’s grasp wasn’t painful, but there was a firmness in his grip that told her it would be pointless to resist him. She opened her mouth to say something, but Prince stopped her with a glance as cold as steel. “Don’t come back, Angelique. You don’t belong in my life.”
As the door clicked shut behind her, she knew she’d lost him completely.
