“I told you, I was going to talk to you about it.”
“If my opinion, much less my feelings, mattered, you would have talked to me before you talked to Sebastian Hawk.” Before he hired Genevieve.
“Is that why you insist on meeting with him? Paying me back?”
“I’m not that petty. This is about my survival.” As the words came out of her mouth, she realized how very true they were.
Andreas wouldn’t understand. As hard as it had been to lose his mother, as much as he despised his father’s hypocrisies, Andreas had never been without a home to call his own. He had not been a three-year-old little girl left in the bathroom of a truck stop. He didn’t know what it was to have his entire world ripped out from under his feet, not once, but twice before reaching the age of eighteen.
If he did, he wouldn’t be selling the company that gave Kayla her first sense of belonging and security since the death of the foster mother who had coaxed Kayla back to speech.
“I would not leave you without resources. Have I not proven that to you?”
“No. You’ve pretty much proved the opposite, Andreas.” Pain coalesced in her throat, making it tight.
But she would not cry.
“No, Kayla...that is not what this is about.”
“I have to go, Andreas.”
“To do what?”
“Get a clue, Mr. Almighty Kostas. My life is none of your business anymore.”
“Why? What is really going on here?”
“I’m dumping a relationship that is toxic to me.”
“I am not toxic. I am your friend.”
She couldn’t take another word, not without losing it, and she hadn’t lost control of her emotions in years.
“Goodbye, Andreas.”
She ended the call before he could reply. Now she just had to check into a hotel. Then she was going to do something. She didn’t know what, but her time of waiting for Andreas Kostas to wake up and realize they were meant to be each other’s family was over.
They weren’t even friends, no matter what she’d always thought. If they had been, she’d have known he planned to buy a wife.
* * *
Andreas heard that ominous beep that indicated Kayla had hung up on him again and shouted, “Bradley!”
His PA came rushing into the office. “Yes, boss?”
“Get me to New York right the hell now. Charter a jet, whatever it takes.”
“On it.” Bradley turned to go.
“Keep tracking Kayla’s phone.”
Bradley waved his hand in acknowledgment.
“And find out what hotel Kayla is staying at. Book me a room beside hers. I don’t care if they have to move other guests. Make it happen.” He heard his father’s voice coming out of his mouth and for the first time in Andreas Kostas’s life, realizing a similarity with Greek shipping tycoon Barnabas Georgas didn’t bother him.
If it took acting like an arrogant bastard to handle this situation, then arrogant bastard he would become.
PUSHING HER SUNGLASSES up on her head, Kayla laid her driver’s license down in front of the desk clerk at the hotel on Times Square she’d made reservations at before she’d left Portland. “I know it’s not 3:00 p.m. yet, but I was hoping a room could be found for me.”
She’d booked a single with no frills and didn’t care what floor they put her on. Unlike Andreas, Kayla didn’t care if she got concierge level with turndown service. She just wanted some time in her room to unwind away from other people. She fully intended to turn off her phone too. No interruptions between her and her thoughts.
And maybe even a nap. There was a first time for everything.
The desk clerk typed something, presumably Kayla’s name, into the computer, then straightened her shoulders. “Oh, yes, Miss Jones. Your room is available immediately if you like.”
“That’s great.” After her conversation with Andreas, she was feeling drained. The cross-continental flight hadn’t helped either.
The young woman waved at the concierge and suddenly there was a bellhop there ready to take Kayla’s bag.
“Oh, I can get that.”
“Let me, Miss Jones, please,” the smartly dressed man who looked more like an extra in a mob movie than a bellhop said.
Kayla shrugged. She wasn’t sure what it was about her pale melon wrap skirt and gray tank under a dark melon hi-lo knit jacket that said “wealthy lady who needs help” to the bellhop. Her comfy travel sandals weren’t even from the designer side of her closet, but Kayla wasn’t going to argue about it.
She just hoped she had appropriate cash in her Michael Kors backpack for the tip.
When the bellhop used Kayla’s key to access the upper floor of the hotel, she got an inkling that he wasn’t taking her to the original room she’d booked herself. When they got off on the top floor, she was sure of it. The smell of roses when she entered a spacious sitting area of what was obviously a superluxurious two-bedroom suite had Kayla cursing Andreas’s name.
The bastard. He’d had Bradley change her reservations. Of course he had. The Greek tycoon was a control freak of the highest magnitude. And he was on his way to New York. Of course he was. Obviously, he intended to stay in the beautifully decorated suite with Kayla.
Andreas wouldn’t see any problem with that. He hadn’t been carrying a torch for Kayla for six long, interminable years.
She shouldn’t be surprised. She really shouldn’t. This was just like something the overbearing Greek tycoon would do.
Only she was. What did he think he was doing?
He had meetings. Much more important than hers. And a bride to find. And a matchmaker to make happy. And Kayla’s darn business to stay the heck out of!
That last was the most important.
She was here to establish the rest of her life without Andreas Kostas in it. Didn’t he realize that?
Maybe he did.
Cold chills washed down her body.
Maybe he wasn’t as ready to let go of their friendship as she was.
Well, he was going to have to get over that little problem. He’d had a total of eight years, two of which included amazing sex, to figure out that they could be something more. What had the idiot done, though? He’d gone and hired a matchmaker, that was what!
He’d decided to sell Kayla’s home! Her one place she felt safe.
Well, she wasn’t putting up with that. He could go off and get married and have all the business challenges he wanted. Kayla might even come to the wedding, but they were done. Done as business partners. Done as best friends.
Just done.
When the bellhop asked what room to place her bag in, Kayla waved at the one on the left. She didn’t care. What did it matter? This room, no matter how swank, was no more sanctuary than her condo back in Portland. The only sanctuary she had was her office and lab back at KJ Software and she wasn’t going to lose that.
Kayla grabbed her phone out of