And the money is already in her account. Fair is fair. But I never expected to feel this awful about it.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kaylee
It’s a beautiful morning. I can’t believe this is the last time I’ll wake up in these silky soft sheets and comfy pillows.
Stretching, I look around the room as the early morning light streams into the windows through the partially drawn curtains and it reminds me of my first night with Chase.
It brings a smile to my lips as I roll out of bed and head into the kitchen wondering what Chase has in store for this morning. Coffee? Room service breakfast?
Last night’s dessert was wonderful. And if nothing else, the man is full of surprises. Maybe he has something special planned for our last morning together.
When I wander into the living area, I see him lying on the couch and still wrapped in his blankets despite the sun streaming in. Okay, I guess I’ll make the coffee.
Grabbing the mugs, I push the button on the Nespresso machine. It’s something else I’m going to miss. I’ll wake him when I have a piping hot mug to hand to him. That’s how I like to wake up.
When the coffee’s done, I mosey toward the couch and sit on the empty part where his legs are bent. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
He groans.
“I made coffee.”
Another groan. So much for coffee and conversation. Since when is he a grumpy pants in the morning?
I turn to head into the bedroom. If he’s going to sleep in, that means I have time for a shower. Fifteen glorious, unhurried minutes later, I stroll out of the bedroom wearing the clothes I picked out last night.
Chase is awake and sitting on the couch drinking his coffee. He’s reading something on his phone. I guess no room service today. That’s fine, I’ll grab food downstairs when I go to work. Except he doesn’t ever look up from his phone. What the hell is with him this morning? “You okay?” I ask him.
“I’m fine,” he says gruffly. “You?”
“I’m good, I guess.” I don’t know what else to say, since I have no earthly idea what crawled up his ass. I decide to engage him in his favorite subject. “Do you have any idea when the final vote is?”
He shrugs. “Sometime this afternoon, that’s all Liam told me.”
I look around and wait, but he’s not going to expand on the sentence. “Alright then, I guess I’ll get out of your hair for now and check on you when I take my lunch break.” I head back to the bedroom to grab my purse.
“You might as well go,” I hear his voice, although it’s low, like he’s muttering. “You got what you wanted.”
I turn right back around and march up to him, hand on my hip. “What did you just say?”
For the first time this morning, he actually turns to face me. There is no dimple, no sea-green eyes flashing at me, no smile. The one thing I know for damn sure is that he’s not kidding right now. I wonder if this is some kind of fucking psychotic break on his part. Or a sick joke.
“I said, you got what you wanted, so now you’re ready to go.” He says it slowly, evenly, deliberately.
I want to slap him in the face. My heart is thumping out of my chest and I realize that my fists are clenched. I must be the biggest idiot in the world to think I meant something, anything, to him.
Chase Covington, billionaire, has obviously played me for a fool. Of course he did. And whatever. But for him to imply that I’m the one using him is just too much for me to hear.
“Are you fucking kidding me with this, Chase? This is your deal. I helped you. Yes, you transferred the equivalent of a day’s tip for your caddy to help with my business, but I’m sure you’ll survive financially.” Of course, the minute he gets what he wants, he turns as cold as ice.
“So you’re going to be nice now, to my face? I can’t believe it was all an act, Kaylee.” He shakes his head. “And to think, I almost fell for it.”
“Fell for what?” I ask, although I’m not listening anymore. I’m at the rage level where I can’t feel my arms or my legs or think clearly. I have no idea what I did to make him angry, all I know is he has turned on me like a rabid barracuda. I’m out of here.
“You know what I’m talking about, Kaylee,” he yells from the couch.
I really don’t. I don’t have a clue. And I no longer care. “All I know is that you’re an asshole,” I yell back. Then I grab my purse while I fight back tears of frustration and anger and confusion.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I hear him say, “it’s all just a tax write-off to me. Good luck with your business.”
I can’t believe the words that he’s spitting at me this morning. Anger rises in my chest and I make my way out into the living area to confront him, to see him with my own eyes. “Is that what I am to you, a charity case?”
He stands up and faces me. “And what am I to you? Just a jerk rich guy you’re playing games with?”
“If you say so.” There are a million thoughts going through my head right now, but in truth I can’t put them together in time to even make an argument. The only thing I know for sure is I have to get the hell out of here. Now.
When I stride through the living area, past the kitchen and to the door, he never stands up. Well, that’s simply perfect.
I thought the morning would bring breakfast and coffee and the two of us reminiscing over the last
