The Cinderella Arrangement (27 page)

* * *

I
spent
the next few days away from William, hunkering in my cold apartment and refreshing ten different windows on my computer. William said he needed time to deal with all the negative press, and I understood that. The headlines got worse. A lot worse.

Billionaire and pal kill three with DUI in Redwood City in ’11

Battery victim condemns Pardini family for “covering up” DUI

He never said sorry: an exposé into the Pardini DUI crash

Opinion: Pardini family cover-up shows youth that drinking and driving is ok

Is the law lenient on the rich?

None of them seemed to care that William wasn’t in the driver’s seat. All that mattered was that he was rich. Ben mentioned the deadly crash during one of his interviews and the media ran with it, igniting a firestorm of vitriol and public outcry against the Pardini family.

When I called him, his voice was quieter. He was spiraling.

“When can I see you?”

Silence crackled on the other end of the line. Ten—fifteen seconds.

“Will, are you still there?”

“Uh—what? Sorry.”

“I said, when can I see you again?"

“Natalie, I don't know. I really can't talk.”

I bit my lip hard so that he couldn’t hear the tears in my voice. “Okay. Bye.”

Without so much as a farewell, William hung up, and I stared at my empty phone as if it could tell me what was wrong with him.

I crumpled up the piece of paper I’d been using to sketch a design and hurled it across my too small bedroom. The final designs I had yet to finish glared at me through the computer screen.

A soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.

“Come in.”

A sliver of Jessica’s slight figure appeared in the crack of the door. She gave me a wry smile. “Come here. Luke has something for you.”

My eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Just come."

Whatever it was, Jessica looked like she was barely containing her excitement. I followed her into the kitchen where Luke stood, still dressed in his work clothes. He held a folder in his hands and was beaming at me.

What could he have for me?
“What’s up?”

“Natalie, everyone loved the approach you took for the campaign.” Grinning ear to ear, he walked closer. “The creative director leading the bed-and-breakfast campaign wants to hire you as a full-time employee. Here’s the offer she wants to give you.”

Stunned, I took the folder he handed me. Jessica let out a joyous shriek and tackled me.

“You did it! You'll be working for Pardini Worldwide!”

Luke chuckled. “Well, if she wants to.”

I opened the folder and thumbed through the HR welcome packet, still not quite believing it. A surge of energy burst into my veins, followed by a sickening thought. “Did Will do this?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, no. Like I said, our creative director emailed Will and said she wanted you. You'll get an email, but I thought I’d come in person. Will was supposed to, but he hasn’t been at work lately.”

All the joy I felt at being offered a position at such a great company evaporated into thin air. Luke’s eyes hardened at the mention of his cousin.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s in a really bad way, Natalie. I think all of this negative press is bringing back a lot of memories from the accident.”

My hand fell to my mouth as I realized the pain he must be going through alone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it for messages. Nothing.

“Why hasn’t he called me?”

His eyes wrinkled as he gave me a helpless shrug. “I don’t know.”

He needs me
.

I dashed around the apartment, grabbing my keys, purse, and phone. Maybe he was too stubborn to ask for help. I glanced sadly at the packet Luke gave me.

“Thanks a lot, Luke. I wish I didn’t have to leave but I think Will needs me—I’m really excited to start working for Pardini Worldwide.”

He nodded. “I’ll tell them. Carrie will contact you with the details.”

* * *

A
group
of paparazzi clustered around Will’s apartment, surrounding the stairs that led to his building.

They whirled around to snap photos of me as I walked up the steps. Recognizing me, they screamed my name and the strangeness of having people I’d never met know my name distracted me for a moment. I stopped in front of the door and hesitated. I wanted to see him—I always wanted to see him—but would he want to see me? Would he send me back home?

Knocking on the door, I flinched as if I expected him to be standing right behind it. Several long seconds passed. The back of my neck burned as the vultures continued to click away. I knocked again.

Groaning, I sent him a quick text:
It’s me
.

At last, I heard the sounds of someone moving in his apartment. The door cracked open and an angry, dark eye glowered at me.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

I was hurt by the gruff tone of his voice. “I know. Luke said you weren’t doing well, and you haven’t been responding to my calls.”

“Interfering jerk.”

“MR. PARDINI! Do you have a statement?”

He shuddered at the sound of their voices. “Get in quickly.” He let the door open and squinted from the sunlight. I gasped as I took in his haphazard appearance. His face was pale and gaunt; he looked like he’d stayed up several days, but his eyes were listless. Dark.

The door closed behind me, shutting out the noise of the crazed mob.

“Heard about the job. Congrats,” he said with his back to me.

“Thanks,” I said in a small voice, feeling wounded at his indifference.

Without so much as a friendly greeting, Will walked into the living room and sat down on the couch where he watched the giant plasma television screen. A CNN host argued with a psychologist about whether rehabilitation worked for DUI drivers while a marquee near the bottom mentioned that Pardini stock had fallen several points. He pulled a laptop over his knees and his sunken eyes darted across the screen as he read an email.

“Is this what you’ve been doing this whole time?” I asked, horrified.

He shrugged, looking defeated in his battered t-shirt and sweatpants. “What else is there to do? I can’t leave and it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days. There will be a press conference tomorrow.”

I sank into the couch next to him, feeling hurt by his utter lack of warmth.

This isn’t about you
. “What? Did your publicist tell you to do that?”

Having a dozen different media outlets fire questions at him seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

He sipped from the stone cold mug of coffee. “I fired my publicist.”

Shock rippled through my joints. I looked at Will’s sunken face, debating whether I should keep my thoughts to myself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You can barely talk about the accident.”

“It doesn’t matter what I can or can’t handle. I need to do this on my own.”

The coldness in his voice made me think that he also included me. “You don’t need to. Let me help you.”

I tried to close the laptop, but he jerked the screen away from me. A pang struck my heart as he looked at me, a frightening, almost angry look striking out at me.

“Just leave me be.”

My heart seized with pain. I knew that he was hurting, but I wanted to help him. I felt responsible for the whole thing. My hand fell on his thigh. “Please don’t shut me out.”

I touched his shoulder, but he moved away from me.

What did I do?

“I can’t deal with this. It’s too much.” He looked at me and I could see the stress breaking him down. He was like a shattered sculpture. Maybe he could be mended, but he would never be the same. “There’s just nothing left in me.”

“Are you angry with me?”

There was no spirit in his body, none of that fevered energy that made him so exciting.

“I’m angry with myself.”

Something went through me as I looked at him: a silent howl.
He’s breaking up with me.
I shook my head, tears already spilling down. “But—Will—”

“I’m sorry. I can’t handle a relationship right now.”

He couldn’t handle it or maybe he really had no feelings for me. It didn’t matter. It was over. 

The air left my lungs, and a sob shook through my throat. His eyes glazed over and he made a movement as though he meant to touch me, but I dodged out of reach.

I shot up from the couch, hoping he would catch up and apologize or beg me to stay, but I didn’t hear so much as a whimper. The hallway was dark as I glanced behind me. Then I opened the door to bright flashes. I threw my arms in front of my face.

“Ms. Porter!”

A dozen strangers elbowed each other to scream at me, demanding questions and offering me thousands of dollars to sell a story. A violent surge of hatred reared up inside me as I stared at their insistent faces.

“Fuck off!”

There were yells of anger as I stormed down the steps. My shoulder slammed against someone’s camera and his voice rose in outrage.

Good
, I thought.
Maybe you’ll understand how pissed off I am right now.

They followed me all the way to my car, still clicking away at me. 

For a moment, I saw myself yanking on the steering wheel to drive toward Oakland and running over Ben’s body. He’d deserve it.

My mother’s voice rang in my head.

First Ben, now William. You really go through them, don’t you?

I turned the key to my apartment and walked over the ugly carpet. Having no desire to be interrogated by Jessica, I headed straight for my bedroom. I saw a brief image of Luke and Jessica sitting at the kitchen table, standing up when they saw me. A bottle of champagne sat on the table.

“Natalie! We wanted to celebrate—where are you going?”

Oh, God no. Not now.

Jessica took one look at my flushed face. “What happened?”

My eyes darted to Luke, who still had the vestiges of a smile on his face. He fingered a bottle opener.

“We broke up,” I said in a hoarse voice.

My best friend gasped and looked at Luke. “Why?”

I shrugged as if it was a minor inconvenience. “He couldn’t handle it.”

Luke’s eyes were sympathetic, and I felt a sudden rush of anger for him, too.
Stop looking at me like I’m a beaten dog
.

“He’s under a lot of stress. It’s probably the best thing for now—”

“How the hell would you know?” I snapped.

“Natalie!”

“No!” I looked at both of them, seizing upon something—anything that would make me feel better. “You never even liked him! He dropped everything in Italy and flew to Chicago just to help you.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I never said I didn’t appreciate it. I’m really sorry, Natalie.”

It wasn’t enough. Will was gone from me and it was all Ben’s fault, but Ben wasn’t here for me to get angry with. Even if I wanted to sue him, how would I ever afford the lawyer fees? How could I prove he’d done anything? Ben would get off scot-free and my life—Will’s life was in shambles.

The dirty apartment only added fuel to my anger. There were crumbs on the floor and I knew she hadn’t vacuumed while I was gone. I looked at her round, blonde face and felt a stab of anger.

“Couldn’t you have cleaned once?”

I left Jessica as she stammered a reply and entered my room, slamming the door shut. I buried myself under the covers of my soft bed and tried to close my eyes, but a vicious cycle of images passed through my head like a slideshow: the nude pictures, Ben, William in handcuffs, him breaking up with me, the paparazzi outside his apartment, and Jessica and Luke waiting for me in the kitchen with a bottle of champagne.

As I thought of them, I felt a fresh wave of remorse and shame. They had done nothing but support me. Luke posted bail for William and they planned to celebrate my new job with me, but how could I celebrate when William was suffering?