Lost to You by - (book club books .TXT) 📕

to focus these next couple of weeks. Don’t for a minute get confident. It just takes one slip and you’ll lose all the footing you have.”

“I know that, Dad. We study constantly.”

It was clear in the way Christian’s eyes darted in my direction that his assertion included me.

We.

Richard Davison’s brow arched in speculation, his appraisal clear and unjust. “And you think it’s wise to distract yourself this way?” he asked Christian, though his gaze remained unwavering, locked on me in decided disgust.

The man had no right to look at me like that.

I struggled to maintain a straight face, reminded myself I was here because I’d been invited, remembered my mom had always taught me to be respectful, even when someone so obviously didn’t deserve it.

“Dad, you have no idea how much Elizabeth has helped me this semester. She studies just as hard, if not harder, than I do. She’s going to be an attorney, too.”

I could feel Christian almost pleading with his father to like me, the way his body drifted forward and his head tipped to the side in supplication.

A condescending smile cracked Richard Davison’s face. “Oh, really? Don’t you two make the perfect little couple.”

“Dad,” Christian begged beneath his breath, his body jerking in embarrassment.

“We’re just friends.” The sudden denial flew from my mouth. Saying it felt like a lie.

Christian blanched, and the dislike on his father’s face grew. Neither of them believed it either.

I blinked hard, as if I could deflect whatever blow was coming. I could feel it, this quiet hostility that had built throughout the night, this agitation that had his father sitting on edge.

Richard Davison leaned in across the table with his voice quieted. “Do you even understand the amount of work this is going to take, Christian? The devotion required if you plan to take over for me one day?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Do you? Really? Do you have any idea the foundation I’ve set to ensure my son has the best opportunities? The best chance at succeeding in life?”

“God, Dad, would you just lay off me for once? I get it. It’s fine.”

His father’s voice dropped lower, though it hardened. “Goddamn it, Christian, it is not fine. Have you not learned one single thing I’ve tried to teach you? You can’t waste this time. It is more important now than ever to stay focused on your goals.”

Christian straightened in his chair, his voice just as low and tight as his father’s. “Not everything is about what you want.”

His father just laughed below his breath, though there was no hint of humor. It was mocking.

“You have no idea what strings I had to pull to get you here, do you?”

My attention darted to Christian to watch his face fall as understanding dawned.

How could his father be so cruel? To do this now, in front of an audience?

I wanted to speak, to touch Christian’s arm and tell him that his father was wrong. I’d never met anyone as intelligent as him or who worked as hard.

But I could say nothing before his father spoke again. “You’re so ignorant you don’t even notice when a gold digger is trying to sink her claws into you.”

In shock, I froze, then humiliation unfurled over me in a hot sheet of disgrace. With what he was insinuating, he may as well have slapped me across the face.

I jerked my chin to the side to block the blow, felt tears welling under the surface. I would not let this guy see me cry.

Fumbling out of my chair and onto my feet, I steadied myself on the table as I wobbled on the heels I was so unaccustomed to wearing.

Mortified, Christian looked up at me. He wrapped a gentle hand my wrist. “Elizabeth, please, don’t go.”

How could he ask me to stay?

I shook my head and twisted from his grasp. “I’m sorry, Christian, but I can’t do this.”

Sorrow tore me straight through as I finally let that flicker of hope I’d clung to all night slip away.

I didn’t belong in his world, could never fit into it. I was strong enough to know I didn’t want to.

I’d never strive for money or position, had no intention of spending my life sitting like some mindless bimbo next to a man just because I wanted something from him. I couldn’t stand the thought that Richard Davison had even planted the idea in Christian’s mind.

As much as I loved Christian, I refused to subject myself to this. I felt violated.

Wronged.

Remorseful blue eyes stared up at me. My heart hurt so much for him. This was his life, the way he’d been raised.

“I’m so sorry, Christian,” I said again. This time, my words were a goodbye.

Heat burned my ears and tears stung my eyes as I turned to flee. Wearing my embarrassment like a coat, I twisted through the tables to make an escape. I forced myself forward, praying I’d get outside before the tears began to fall.

I didn’t take the time to get my jacket from the front. I fled out the door.

The sharp bite of cold slammed me. I sucked in a ragged breath and pushed myself forward. My heels clattered as I clamored toward the street.

Relief slipped between my lips as a small cry when I saw the two cabs waiting at the curb.

“A cab, please,” I nearly begged as I ran, struggling to keep myself upright as I approached the cab.

A hand grabbed my upper arm before I could make it inside. I knew it was him. The hold was firm but gentle, filled with as much confusion as I felt. I needed to get away from him as much as I wanted to stay. I struggled to break free.

He spun me around and cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “Fuck . . . Elizabeth . . . would you just stop for a second?”

With the sound of his voice, the tears broke free. I tried to hide them, to tug away from the hold Christian had on me, heart and soul.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes searching as they took in every emotion firing across my face.

“I can’t believe he pulled that shit in front of you.” His hold tightened in emphasis. “Tell me you know I would never think that about you. It doesn’t matter who I brought, they would never be good enough, Elizabeth. I will never be good enough. Don’t you see that?”

Tender fingers came up to brush the hair from my face, to wipe my tears.

“I hate him, Elizabeth . . . hate that he would make you feel this way.”

I wrestled to discern what I felt, who I was angry with and who I was running from.

All I came up with was another question, another miserable why.

Why did I have to love someone like him so much? The moment he walked through the café door, my instincts had told me to run. Why had I been such a fool to put myself in the position to be standing here now?

But none of this was really Christian’s fault. We were separated by a gap neither of us had created, each a product of our heritage, a distant span of cultures that made us completely incompatible.

“Just go back inside with your family, Christian.”

Shaking his head, his grip increased, the slight sting of his fingertips digging into my cheeks. “No. It’s Thanksgiving and I want to spend it with you.”

“They’re your family, and I don’t mean anything to you.” My assertion rang with deceit.

“How can you say that? You mean everything to me.” Christian pressed his lips to my forehead, this gentle show of affection that weakened my knees and left me gripping his wrists, desperate to believe every one of his words.

And I felt it again, a glimmer of what I’d seen in his eyes earlier.

I longed for it.

His father’s mocking voice found us from somewhere behind Christian. “Just friends, huh? Looks that way to me. She’s a waste of your time, Christian. Put her in a cab and come back inside where you belong.”

A tortured cry erupted from my throat.

“Just go inside, where you belong,” I rasped, mimicking his father’s words, tripping over the heartbreak that had lodged in my throat.

“Elizabeth . . .” Christian wavered, looking back to where his father stood confronting us.

The gap.

Christian held no true conviction. He didn’t know whether to stand up for me or give in to his father. He still didn’t know.

I ripped myself from his hold and jumped into the cab. Christian just stood there, staring at me.

My spirit splintered a little more.

I slammed the door shut behind me to shut Christian out. The cab driver looked up in the mirror, and I cried out, “Go . . . please . . . just go.”

I slumped back in the seat as the cab jerked into traffic. My head sagged back on the headrest and I lifted my face to the ceiling. Tears streaked down the sides of my face and ran into my hair. Reaching up to scrub them away, I