Faking It (15 page)

Yes. If having Stephanie meant being weak, then she’d stolen his strength from the moment she’d smiled at him.

“You can’t mean that,” he said. “Let’s take a few days to think, I—”

“I don’t need a few days.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “This was just an arrangement of convenience. We had a business contract. It’s over now.”

“No.” He gripped the door tighter and tried to push it open. The chain resisted him. “It was more than that. You know it. I admit—I was stupid and insensitive. But I…I…”

She flinched. “Don’t say another word. I can’t do this right now, Derek.”

Her voice cracked on the last word. The door slammed in his face. He barely had time to move his hand. The sound of her sobs came through the thin wood, each one a bullet of regret and guilt, punching holes through his gut. He rested his brow against the door. He should leave. Give her her privacy.

But he couldn’t go.

He sat outside her door, his back against the wood. He couldn’t leave her when she was crying, but she wouldn’t accept his comfort. He could only be here for her, silent and unobtrusive. There was no way he could walk away from her. Not like this.

He would sooner rip his own heart from his chest.

Chapter Fifteen

She would have been able to handle it if not for the note.

Stephanie sat at her desk with bleary eyes and an aching head. She’d hardly slept last night. She’d pulled a pillow over her head and lay there, wide awake and miserable. By morning she’d told herself to get over it and move on.

Then she’d found the note on her door.

I never meant to hurt you.

No more. No less. Derek hadn’t tried to text or call her. Just that simple note on a square of ivory paper, in the same neat, precise handwriting as that card that had made her choke with laughter and tears, what felt like a million years ago.

She’d crumpled it and thrown it on the coffee table. She’d wanted to throw her ring after it, but she couldn’t.

The show must go on.

She stared at her blank computer screen. There was no point in turning it on. It was a waiting game now—and when Rodgers called her to the conference room at ten, she knew it had to be about Wheeler. The Weyland Project. The project that, no matter what she was able to do with the funding, would never feel the same when everything she’d done to help these people had all been part of some sick corporate game. A game she’d lost.

She got up and made herself walk down the hall. It felt like walking down Death Row. Rodgers was waiting for her in the conference room. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Good morning,” she said stiffly.

“Hn.” Rodgers eyed her. “Wheeler will be here shortly. I have it on good authority that he’s quite impressed, and planning to accept the contract. Congratulations. It looks like you have a job.”

She swallowed past the tears just waiting to come. She’d been desperate to hear those words for nearly a year now, but suddenly they were bitter and heavy. “I didn’t write that proposal. Derek did.”

Rodgers snorted. “I don’t care if an Oompa-Loompa wrote it. For all intents and purposes? It was you. Sweet little Ms. Miller with her sweet little fiancé for Wheeler to swoon over.”

“You want me to take credit for something I didn’t do?”

“If you want to get ahead in this business, you’ll learn to take every chance you can to advance. This one’s being handed to you. Don’t ruin it.”

She shook her head. “I won’t lie anymore. I refuse.”

Rodgers flicked her a cold, disdainful look. “I suggest you check your conscience at the door. It has no place in the business world.”

“No. Forgetting my conscience was the first mistake I made.” Her knees were shaking, but she made herself continue. Pride wouldn’t let her bite her tongue any longer. “My second was lying about my fake engagement, because
you
said I had to. Mistake number three? Continuing to lie over the last two weeks. Number four was ever believing a word out of your mouth.” Every word gave her strength. He was vile, loathsome, and she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought herself beneath him. “Number five would be pretending I wrote that proposal. I think I’m good with quitting at four.”

He sneered. “You don’t get to speak to me that way.”

“Why not? You speak to me like I’m trash.” She laughed. She knew she was destroying her career, but she’d stopped caring. “You know, I don’t think this was ever about Wheeler. I bet all those times Mr. Wheeler demanded that Derek come to our business meetings, that was really
your
idea, wasn’t it? First you thought you had an angle, and you nearly beat us all to death with it trying to emotionally manipulate Wheeler—and
you’re
the reason it took so long to close the deal, turning every meeting into a social event.”

God, no wonder Wheeler had always turned the topic away from business. He wasn’t fixated on her relationship with Derek. He was just trying to be polite. She’d been so blind. So stupid. If Wheeler was so big on bringing family into business, why had they never met his wife?

Because he kept his business and his personal life separate, that was why—no matter his values. The blurred lines, the deceit, this entire ridiculous mess had all been Rodgers’ doing.

“But then you found out more about Derek,” she continued, “and you saw dollar signs, and you’ve been using me to reel him in. Admit it.”

Rodgers snarled. “You ignorant, ungrateful little—”

The door opened, and Wheeler stepped inside. His smile was blithe, cordial, utterly oblivious to the tension making the air tight and so very hard to breathe. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Rodgers wiped away his scowl and replaced it with his perpetual sneering smile. “Please, sit, both of you.”

Wheeler took a chair opposite Rodgers’ desk. Stephanie claimed the seat at his side and knotted her hands together in her lap. If she kept her mouth shut, Rodgers would seal the deal. Could she really sit here quietly and let that happen? Let him lie to Wheeler and take his money?

Wheeler folded his hands over his stomach. “I reviewed the latest draft of the proposal last night. I must say—”

“Mr. Wheeler,” Stephanie interrupted, her heart skipping a beat. “Might I have a word with you? Alone?”

He blinked, and both bushy eyebrows rose. “Certainly.” He glanced at Rodgers. “If we could have a moment?”

“Of course.” Rodgers stood. His smile was oily, but the look he threw at Stephanie was pure venom. A useless warning; she had already sealed her fate. What did she owe him now?

The moment Rodgers closed the door behind him, Stephanie took a deep breath and just blurted it out, before she lost her nerve. “The file you have? It’s not mine.”

Wheeler reached into his briefcase and withdrew a stack of pages. “This one?”

“Yes. That one. It’s not mine.”

“I see. Then whose is it?”

“Derek’s. I didn’t know he’d done it until yesterday.” She made herself look him in the eye. “I can’t take credit for something I didn’t do.”

“Ah.” With a small smile, Wheeler set the proposal down on the desk. “Getting help from your fiancé isn’t the worst thing in the world. I appreciate your honesty, though.”

“That’s the problem.” Stephanie shook her head. “He’s not really my fiancé.”

Wheeler froze, his arm still outstretched. “Excuse me?”

“It’s all a lie. Derek isn’t my fiancé. I’m not even engaged.” She curled her hands into fists. The ring suddenly felt far too heavy. “It’s all been a lie to make you think this is a good, old-fashioned, family-friendly business. But it’s not. I’m not.”

“I see. That explains quite a bit.”

He closed his eyes, falling silent and still. He remained motionless for so long she started to wonder if she’d caused his aging heart to fail. Just her luck. Talk about classic Stephanie; kill her investor with a heart attack.

Just when she was tempted to hold her compact mirror in front of his mouth to check for breaths, he sighed. “Was this your idea, or your boss’s?”

“Does it matter?”

His voice was clipped. “It does.”

“It was his idea.” She blinked back the wetness blurring her vision. She couldn’t cry. “But I’m not saying that to shift the blame. I went along with it. I’m as guilty as he is. Derek is my brother’s friend. Mr. Rodgers roped him into it, but he played along to help me. He didn’t want me to l-lose my job. But I can’t keep lying. Not when it means taking millions from you under false pretenses, no matter who it might help.”

Wheeler nodded slowly, his every movement tight and controlled. “I do appreciate that you were so forthcoming with the truth, Ms. Miller. This certainly changes everything. Will you excuse me?”

She nodded and lowered her gaze, watching her fingers twist around each other in her lap. Her shoulders felt heavy, but her heart felt light. Rodgers was probably already drawing up her termination papers, but at least she’d done the right thing.

“I’m sorry for my part in this, sir.”

He stood. “I don’t blame you. But I do respect that you told me the truth.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him. The hard
slam
echoed in the silent room. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The weatherman had predicted rain. For once she had an umbrella, and wouldn’t need Derek today.

She smiled through her tears. She was an idiot. She needed him. She’d always needed him, and she’d pushed him away.

She stood, left Rodgers’ office, returned to her cubicle, and dumped a cardboard file box out over the desk before beginning to pack her things. There was no point in waiting. There was only one inevitable outcome. Rodgers was an asshole, and she’d not only defied him, but cost him millions in investment funding.

Not to mention his quarterly bonus check. He’d probably meant to buy a new Mercedes. Or a house in the Hamptons. Without that, his life would be
so
hard.

She was so done here. She could only hope, if Wheeler made enough noise, that someone with more power than Stephanie would make Rodgers pay.

She sensed someone watching her, and lifted her head. Rodgers stared at her with icy contempt, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

“You,” he said, “have just ruined the entire Weyland Project. I hope you’re happy. Millions of the underclass will now no longer receive the aid they need.”

“Don’t.” Anger and grim resignation stole her fear. How had she ever been afraid of this pathetic, sniveling liar? “Don’t even pretend it was about them. This was all about you and the money. If you cared so much about the poor, you’d give up your paycheck to help them.”

He flicked his fingers and turned away. “Security will escort you from the building.”

She flipped the middle finger at his back, but bit her tongue. She’d said enough for one day. Enough for a lifetime. It wouldn’t change anything, anyway. Rodgers thought he’d won. Even if he’d lost the Weyland Project and Wheeler, he still had Derek.

And she wanted to rip him right out of the scheming bastard’s claws.

No. Derek could take care of himself. Her protective fury was wholly unfounded. He didn’t need her. She’d just been a charity case, after all. He knew how to handle men like Rodgers. He knew how to handle her. Maybe she’d just been another pawn in the game. She hoped he had a long, happy relationship with Rodgers and his money, but she was through.

She shoved her last picture into her box and, without bothering to wait for security, walked out.

…

Three days later, Stephanie sat in her empty apartment with a roll of packing tape in one hand and a Sharpie in the other. She had the rest of the month left on her rent, but there was no point in waiting when it was unlikely she’d find a job before the next check came due. She couldn’t move in with her parents again. They now lived in a one-bedroom apartment in the city, leaving her with only one option. Aaron.

She had no idea what would happen with her life from this point out. She’d only wanted to help people, and instead she’d just made a huge mess—and driven away a man who’d only wanted to help her fix it. She hadn’t heard a single word from Derek. Not so much as a phone call or an email. Was she really surprised? She’d told him to go home. Maybe he had.

She sighed and looked around the barren living room. Maybe she’d end up in a gutter somewhere. It would serve her right. She felt like she’d personally let down the entire underprivileged population of Miami, and could picture them shaking their heads at her in mutual disappointment.

She heard her front door open. Must be Aaron. She bowed over the box she’d just filled and slapped on a row of tape. “You’re early. The boxes in the kitchen are ready to go, but I’m still working on these.”

“All right,” Derek said, his voice hard. “But where are you moving?”

She froze, tape still stretched between her fingers. She was sweaty, wearing cut-off jean shorts and a ratty tank top. Her hair was a mess. She was a wreck, and of course he had to show up now.

And of course, when she looked up, he was heartbreakingly flawless in his impeccable suit and tie.

Not fair.

She blew out a breath. “I thought you went home.”

“Not yet.” His gaze slid over her. “Where are you going?”

She couldn’t stand to look at him. She lowered her eyes to the role of tape, turning it between her fingers. “I’m moving in with Aaron until I find another job.”

“So the rumors were true.”

She winced. “Rumors?”

“About a whistleblower spilling the dirt on an investment scheme targeting Wheeler Enterprises.” There was a touch of admiration in his voice. Respect. The one thing she’d craved, and now she wanted more. Or less. God, she didn’t even know anymore. “I’m not surprised your boss fired you.”

She laughed bitterly. “It wasn’t so glamorous as all that. I just…had to make a choice.”

He said nothing. His blue eyes betrayed nothing, though the dark circles beneath them promised he hadn’t been sleeping well. Slowly he sat down, settling on a box labeled
Kitchen
and propping his elbows on his knees.

“I made a choice, too. Apparently the wrong one,” he said. “I helped you because I couldn’t not help you. Don’t you understand that?”

“No. I don’t.”

“I helped you because I care about you too much to stand by and watch you struggle.” His hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically. He stared down at them, his jaw working. “When you care about someone, you do everything in your power to make them happy. I care about you.”

He cared about her. Such platonic words. She shook her head. “You went behind my back, Derek. You betrayed my trust.”

“I’m sorry for that. Every day, I regret it.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet. How much did you give him?”

He frowned. “What?”

“How much did you give Rodgers? He got what he wanted, right? To work with you.”

His expression darkened. “I haven’t answered a single one of his calls.”

“Ah.” Her throat clogged, tight and choking. “You can’t just apologize and think it fixes everything. It doesn’t.”

Gently, he pried the roll of tape from her fingers, set it aside, then clasped her hands. His touch burned. “I can help you find another job. You could even—”

“
No
.” Christ, even now he wouldn’t quit. She pulled free and crossed her arms, hiding her hands away in the crooks of her elbows. “I need to be able to take care of myself.”