Chapter 9 9

In front of the wrought-iron gates of the Bancroft estate, the Maybach rolled to a smooth stop.

The engine settled into a low, quiet hum.

The driver stepped out immediately and opened the rear door.

Crisp autumn air rushed into the stale cabin, catching the hem of Ellie's silk dress.

Ellie picked up her Prada clutch from her lap.

She shifted her weight, ready to slide out of the car without a second glance.

Ansel's hand shot across the seat.

His large fingers wrapped around her wrist, his grip tight enough to cause a dull ache.

Ellie paused, her eyebrows pulling together slightly.

"Come back to the penthouse with me tonight," Ansel said.

His voice was low, laced with a desperation he couldn't quite hide.

Ellie did not turn her body toward him.

"Aunt Marion expects me inside before midnight. You know her rules."

Ansel let out a harsh, frustrated breath.

He hated the old-money rules that kept her from him, the invisible walls of the Bancroft house he couldn't breach.

He loosened his grip slightly, rubbing his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist.

"What about tomorrow? There is a private gallery showing in Long Island. I will have the car pick you up at noon."

Ellie pulled her wrist gently but firmly out of his grasp.

"I have to rewrite the final section of my thesis. I will be in the library all weekend."

The rejection hit Ansel hard.

Panic flared in his chest.

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face him.

"Ellie, stop pushing me away-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the screen of his phone, resting on the center console, lit up for a brief second.

A text message preview from his executive assistant flashed across the glass.

The message was brief but impossible to miss. Reminder: Isela L. pickup @ JFK tomorrow.

Ellie's eyes dropped to the screen naturally.

She read the words in a fraction of a second.

It was the final data point. The experiment was over.

Ansel saw the light from the screen reflect in her eyes.

He cursed under his breath and quickly flipped the phone face-down against the leather.

"It is just a corporate courtesy pickup," Ansel said quickly, his words rushing together. "The families do business together. It means nothing."

Ellie looked at him.

Two hours ago, he was laughing with his friends about marrying Isela.

Now, he was lying to her face.

Ellie let a soft, understanding smile spread across her face.

"Ansel, you don't need to explain. The Schultz family business is the most important thing. I completely understand."

Her voice was entirely free of jealousy.

Ansel stared at her perfect, smiling face.

He felt like he was suffocating.

He wanted her to scream at him. He wanted her to throw her purse at his head.

He needed a reaction, any proof that she cared he was picking up another woman.

He found nothing but polite indifference.

The absolute defeat crushed the remaining fight out of his body.

His hand fell away from her shoulder, dropping heavily onto his own lap.

Ellie smoothed the fabric of her dress where his hand had wrinkled it.

She leaned forward across the seat.

She pressed her lips against his cheek.

It was a light, dry, and utterly passionless kiss.

"Goodnight, Ansel."

She stepped out of the car, her heels clicking against the stone pavement.

Ansel sat frozen in the backseat.

He watched her walk up the steps and disappear behind the heavy wooden door.

A physical ache bloomed in his chest.

He slammed his fist violently against the leather seat.

"Drive," he barked at the driver. "Get me out of here."

Inside the house, Ellie stood in the dark hallway.

She watched through the peephole as the red taillights of the Maybach disappeared down the street.

She let out a long, slow breath.

She pulled her phone from her clutch and opened her calendar app.

Under Friday's date, she typed a single entry: Terminate contract.