He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I want them to see what I see.”
The lie was so practiced, so smooth, it almost slid past her. But she felt the truth of it in her bones.
He didn’t want them to see her.
He wanted them to see his beautiful, impressive, perfectly-accessorized fiancée. A testament to his own good taste.
Her stomach churned. The food tasted like ash.
“I need some air,” she said, pushing her chair back. The legs scraped against the polished concrete floor, the sound a violation of the perfect quiet.
Cole’s smile tightened. “Audrey, we’re not finished.”
“I am.” She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She walked past the sterile white walls, past the abstract art he’d chosen, and grabbed her coat.
“Don’t be dramatic,” his voice followed her. “We’ll just order the blue one we saw last week. It will be here by tomorrow.”
The click of the door shutting behind her was the only answer she could give.
The elevator ride down felt like a descent into another world. The lobby was a silent, marble mausoleum. But then the doorman opened the heavy glass doors, and the city hit her.
Real air. Cold and sharp with the scent of the nearby harbor. Salt and diesel and freedom.
She walked without thinking, her heels clicking on the pavement, a frantic rhythm against the deep hum of the city.
She headed toward the water, drawn by the dark, open space. Away from the glittering towers that all looked like cages.
The cobblestone streets near the shipping terminals were slick with mist. The air was heavy. The distant groan of a foghorn echoed across the water. Here, the city felt different. Gritty. Alive.
She pulled her coat tighter, lost in the swirling mess of her own thoughts. The gala. The dress.
The way Cole could take something she loved and turn it into a weapon against her. He was so good at it.
He chiseled away at her confidence, piece by piece, calling it love.
Distracted, she rounded the corner of a brick warehouse too fast.
She collided with something solid.