Her face felt hot. He'd asked for working cars, not Mercedes. She tugged her ear and wished whatever was sending this panic in her veins would stop. “It was a few hundred more than Blue Book value but my dad will have to replace them, which could take time. I thought that was fair.” Her dad often loaned the cars at no cost if the person needed it.
His cheeks had a slight blush. Barely noticeable, but she’d seen his reaction. “I’m glad.”
She placed her hand on her hip. “Why?”
“I wrote you blank check as a test.” He leaned against his desk--not a problem in the world.
“What!” Her pulse pounded. Seriously? She paced before the window in short, fast steps as she repeated, “A test?”
“You passed.” He didn’t move.
Her blood boiled. She loved him, but he clearly didn’t love her. Not if he thought she’d steal a dime of his money. While he remembered her name in bed, setting her up wasn’t Prince Charming behavior. Her words were like ice as she asked, “What kind of test?”
He circled her, his arms crossed. For some reason he still thought he had the upper hand. What was his problem? “Why did you have Nadia’s necklace in your bag?”
Nadia? Her mind was blank. His ex-lover's necklace had been in her pocketbook? That made zero sense. “What are you talking about?”
“The. Necklace.” He repeated the words like that somehow explained what he was talking about. “I knocked over your bag, accidentally, and found her locket.”
Her bag? The only gold necklace she had was the dove he'd given her. Bart obviously believed that she knew something about it.
She shook her head. "I never saw her locket or touched it."
"How do you explain it being in your purse?"
Rebecca thought back to their huge suite and all of the staff around. "What if one of the maids found it and thought it was mine?"
He said nothing.
It was the only logical answer--then she hugged her waist as she realized that he'd tested her, which meant he'd assumed that she was guilty. Her eyes welled but she blinked back tears. “I have no idea how it got there.”
He stood in front of her. His black shoes were now in between her designer black flats, they were so close and yet, not close at all. He said, “You thinkhousekeepingput the necklace in your bag?”
She massaged the goosebumps that grew on her arms, feeling very inconsequential. Prince Charming was clearly a myth and Bart merely a man who'd had Nadia, and then her, in the same hotel bed. Her mind scrambled to put the timeline together. “It was a hotel, and I was the woman staying with you for the night--after Nadia left, unless there were more in between?” Her tummy rolled.
“There was no one else. Rebecca, you’re the only one I ever brought home.” He stepped back to give her space which only made the trembles in her stomach worse as he said, “I had Leya send Nadia back her necklace, so it’s done now. We can host the party together in peace.”
Every word he spoke spelled out one thing. He wasn’t a prince. She was a fool. He’d never love her. Everything had been just her projecting. Her neck felt tight as she pointed to her heart. “It’s not done. Did you think I stole it?”
He rubbed his chin as if he was judging her. He had a snobbish quality to him that for some reason she'd been willing to overlook--she realized that she would never get by the blocks around his heart. “Rebecca, you and I come from different worlds.”
She did not feel badly about this anymore. Rebecca stepped toward him and adjusted his collar, noting the almond-cedar smell of his designer cologne. “Not that different. Not when it comes to character. Do you think I stole Nadia's necklace?”
He stopped her hands around his collar and placed them on his thumping chest. “It doesn’t matter now. My fears were wrong.”
“Your fears?” She pulled away.
He held her gaze like this was a business deal that was now concluded, and they could move on; no harm, no foul. “That’s all this was. Let’s forget it.”
But it wasn’t so simple. Love required trust. She’d tried to help him, but it had been a test. Her skin grew colder as she stood in silence. Finally she broke their eye contact and shook her head. “I can’t. How was the check a test?”
He put his hands in his pockets and sat on his desk. The small gesture showed how unmoved he was, when to her this moment was like an earthquake that separated them. “I just thought if you were what I feared, a con artist, or a thief, then you’d take more." He raked a hand through his dark hair. "I trusted you enough to hand over a blank check. You could have left the country.”
That wasn’t trust. He wanted to see what she’d do. "That was a safe bet that I wouldn't. I don't have my passport." She pursed her lips and stepped back, closer to the safety of the door. “But what would you have done if I came back with a bigger number?”
He shrugged but his gaze was piercing. “Probably nothing. I don’t want to lose you.”
Ice raced through her and she could barely process what had just happened. “But you have.” If he didn't trust her, how could she trust him?
