Chapter 16

Sixteen

Moore

Rose was subdued during supper, quiet and seemingly lost in thought. I had expected it after our argument, though I still tried valiantly to coax her into a better mood as we dined. Honestly, I hadn't thought my marriage would matter to her. After all, the whole city had labeled me an adulterer, so my wife wouldn't expect fidelity. Why, then, should I stop seeing Rose?

It goes against all my principles—and yours .

Principles didn't matter when it came to Rose. Our arrangement suited us both and we were ridiculously compatible in bed. My marriage wouldn't affect the time I spent with her or my unquenchable desire for her.

I had no intention of giving her up. I merely had to convince her.

"When will we return to New York?" Rose moved the blueberry trifle around on her plate as if she found it distasteful, rather than her favorite dessert. I'd asked the crew to make it specifically for her.

"In four or five days."

"I'd like to return immediately."

A pang of disappointment went through me. "I know you're angry with me, but please, Rose. Let's not cut our holiday short."

"It's nothing to do with that. But I might miss Mr. Martin's decision on the part if I'm not around. It's imperative for me to find work."

I set my knife and fork down carefully, then excused the lone crew member overseeing our meal. When we were alone, I said, "If and when we part, you know I'll settle a large sum on you. Stocks, jewelry, cash . . . whatever you wish. You needn't ever work."

"While I appreciate the generous offer, I've told you many times that I don't need those things from you." She picked up her champagne. "I'm perfectly capable of going back to work."

"Nevertheless, you're getting a large sum of money from me."

A flash of anger lit her gaze before it quickly disappeared. She took a sip of her champagne, then set the glass down. "Let's not quarrel. I don't wish to ruin our time together on the yacht."

"Neither do I." I reached into the pocket of my jacket. "Close your eyes."

She cocked her head, like she didn't know what to make of the request. If we were on better terms, perhaps she might think this was a naughty game. Instead, I merely wanted to surprise her.

"Please," I added.

When she complied, I pulled a large box out of my coat pocket. Then I set it beside her place setting. "Now, open them."

Her lashes fluttered and her gaze immediately found the light blue box. She sat perfectly still for a long minute, her eyes locked on the present. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, so I explained, "I thought of you when I saw this. I hope you like it."

"Moore." She shook her head. "Is this because we argued?"

"No, not unless Mr. Tiffany has opened a store somewhere on my yacht. I bought this beforehand and always planned to give it to you on the boat."

"You needn't give me presents."

"I like to. And I hope it'll make you smile once you finally open the damn thing and see it."

Frowning, she did as I asked. Her fingers soon revealed a long triple strand pearl necklace. A gold clasp with a large emerald held the strands together. "Oh, my God. Moore ." She lifted the pearls like they were the most precious thing she'd ever seen. "It's beautiful."

"Here." I took the necklace from her fingers and stood up. "Let me put it on."

"Now?"

"Yes, now." Moving behind her chair, I draped the strands around her neck, then fashioned the clasp closed. "There. How do you like it?"

She angled toward me, her smile familiar. It was soft and sweet, exactly like the Rose I knew intimately. Admittedly, I'd purchased this necklace in the hopes of lessening the sting over my pending nuptials, but I did like to spoil her. And I'd keep doing it, if only the stubborn woman would let me.

"I adore it, Moore. But this must've cost a fortune."

It had cost a pretty penny, but she was worth every cent. I dragged one of the strands across her lips. "It looks positively decadent on you."

Grabbing my lapels, she pulled me toward her mouth for a long kiss. Her fingers caressed my jaw, her tongue darting out to twine with mine. "Thank you," she finally whispered.

"I merely wish to make you happy."

Though it was true, I wasn't sure she believed me. How else to explain the sadness that flashed in her gaze before she closed her eyes and kissed me again?

When we broke apart, I pressed my forehead to hers. "Are you still angry with me?"

"I'm not angry, Moore. Indeed, I'm grateful. Your news has reminded me of who I am, my purpose in life."

My stomach hollowed out and I decided I had better sit down. Once I was in my chair, I asked, "What does that mean?"

"It doesn't matter."

My words from earlier today, now thrown back at me. "It matters a great deal. I'd like to hear it, if you please."

"This." She waved her hand, gesturing to the yacht. "It's surreal, like a fairy tale. But it isn't mine. I don't belong here. I'm an actress. Soon I'll be starring on Broadway, my name on the marquee, more famous than Barrymore and Bernhardt. That is what I must focus on."

"You do belong here," I gritted out, irrationally angry at her declaration. "You belong with me."

"No, I don't. Another woman will soon have that right."

Was she going to throw this in my face during each disagreement? "I will never feel for her what I feel for you."

"You might someday. You must give your marriage a chance, Moore."

"A chance for, what? I don't know her and she's far too young for me. She even said I'm too old for her. There is no chance this ends happily, Rose."

"How old is she?"

I realized what I'd done much too late. But I wouldn't lie. The truth would appear in the paper this week. "Nineteen."

The word dropped between us like a stone and Rose's expression wiped clean. She was hiding her reaction from me, something she'd started doing quite a bit. I didn't like it. "Rose?—"

"She's exactly my age. What a coincidence." Her voice was calm, measured, giving nothing away.

"It is a dashed coincidence. I hope you don't think . . . " Straightening, I said forcefully, "I am not out fishing the theaters and dance halls for young girls to bed. I always assumed you were older."

"It doesn't matter," she repeated—and my muscles tightened in irritation.

"It clearly does matter to you. God, Rose. I'd prefer to have you shout and throw something at me, rather than give me such watered-down reactions. I want your honesty."

"No, you don't," she snapped, her green eyes darkening as she narrowed them on me. "You want my acquiescence. You think your money and position give you the authority to make decisions for me, for both of us. You aren't considering how I feel about this at all. Your sole concern is for yourself, to ensure that your toy isn't taken away from you."

My chest burned, both with outrage and offense. "You make me sound like a spoiled child."

She said nothing, merely stared at me as she sipped from her coupe, those perfect lips kissing the glass rim in silent confirmation.

Through sheer force of will, I calmed my racing heart and cooled my blood. The news of my marriage was still fresh and neither of us were dealing with it well. Lashing out at one another achieved nothing. "You are not my toy," I said steadily. "As I have said, I hold you in the highest esteem. I am . . . besotted. And I don't wish to lose you."

Her expression softened and she reached for my hand. Delicate fingers wound around mine and simply held on. "I don't want to lose you, either. But life often doesn't care what we want. You live in a world where your choices are not your own. I don't pretend to understand it, but there it is. Therefore, we should both admit what we have is nice, but temporary, and enjoy the time we have left."

A darkness settled in my throat, a lump of misery I hadn't experienced since the end of my first marriage. I hated this. I hated that I couldn't convince Rose to stay with me beyond September. I stared at our joined hands and tried not to throw my wineglass across the room.

"Say something," she urged softly.

What was there to say? We were at an impasse, one I'd created. I hadn't wanted any of this, but the wheels were in motion, the unavoidable conclusion swiftly approaching.

Lifting Rose's hand to my lips, I kissed the back of it. "Incidentally, I take very good care of my toys."

She laughed, the sound lightening the air in the room. The knot inside me loosened ever so slightly. Such was this woman's power over me.

Not letting go of my hand, she stood and moved to my side. The fingers on her free hand pulled at my arm. "Let's go down below so that you may prove it."