“True,” he said grudgingly.
“I could move to Hollywood. Lots of great firms there.”
He stood straighter, towering over her. “Are you threatening me?”
She was starting to feel ill. “Don’t look so angry.”
“This is not my angry expression,” he snapped. “This is my expression of rapt attention.”
“And I’m not threatening you,” she snapped right back. “I’m trying to solve a problem. Obviously I’m the only one.”
He put his elbow on a guardrail, his chin in his hand, and looked toward Fremont. His face didn’t give away how frustrated he felt, but his body language did. At least he was listening to her.
“What about your sister?” Wendy ventured. “You said she’s interested in the family business. Can’t she take it over instead of you?”
“Eventually, but she needs to finish her degree first. And my dad has been looking forward to retirement forever. He and my mom have a trip around the world planned. They haven’t left New York except on business since . . . ”
“2001?” Wendy asked.
“2001,” he confirmed.
“But the Blackstone Firm is a large company,” she said. “Surely there’s someone else there who can take over until your sister graduates, and steer her in the right direction for a few years afterward.”
“There is,” Daniel agreed, “but that’s not what my dad wants. He wants the Blackstone Firm to be run by a Blackstone, always.”
“Why is that your problem?”
“Why are you bringing that up again? He’s my dad. It’s my family.”
“Right, but why does that mean you have to do what they want? Why can’t you do what you want?”
“I just can’t.”
“Since when? When your brother died?”
He took his arms off the guardrail and turned to her. Though his face remained impassive, the speed of his movements told her how angry he was. “You’re psychoanalyzing me like I’m one of your clients. You should do a lot less of that.”
“You should do a lot more of it,” she countered. “All you’re doing is putting a bandage on your clients’ problems, stopping the hemorrhaging, and disguising them from the public. If you don’t try to get to the root of the problem and fix that, the problem will just recur. Did it occur to you that Colton might have a gambling addiction? I’ll bet that never crossed your mind.”
“Somehow we’ve gotten back around to this same argument,” Daniel said, “you telling me that you’re doing this job better than me. At least, that’s what you’re pretending. But what you’re really trying to do is get me to quit my job.”
“I’m not trying to get you to quit your job, per se,” she said. “I want you to be happy, and you don’t seem happy.”
“You know what would be easier? Let’s get divorced, which is what we agreed to in the first place.”
Face burning, she glanced around to see if they’d been overheard. They were the only ones left on the observation deck. Possibly they’d scared everyone else off with the accusations and threats they were hurling at each other.
Of course, that was ridiculous. Daniel would never have mentioned divorce if he’d thought someone else was listening. He’d made sure they were alone before he dealt her that blow. Decorum and appearance before everything.
With tears stinging her eyes now, unable to hold them back, she asked, “You would divorce me over your job?”
“You would divorce me over yours.”
He held her gaze until she couldn’t meet his anymore. She turned and looked out over the view from the romantic Eiffel Tower. All she could see were the roofs of the nearby casinos and traffic crawling by on the Strip on a dusty, unhappy afternoon.
“You will divorce me,” he insisted, “if I don’t do what you say. And I can assure you, that is never going to happen.”
She could picture him staring her down angrily as he said this. She thought she could feel his stare. Determined not to look weak in front of him, like she couldn’t face him, she turned to him angrily.
He was looking down at the walkway. His expression was a blank, but the hunch of his shoulders and the downcast direction of his eyes made him look hurt.
If he was hurt, there was a chance for them still. They could talk this out. He would have to look up at her, though, and want the same thing. She waited for him to do it.
His head moved, and her heart leaped. But his eyes slid over her and off again. He turned to look out over Vegas. He was waiting for this to be over.
“I’ll go get my things from the room, then,” she said, “and on Monday I’ll have my lawyer work out the divorce and send you something. We don’t have to see each other again.”
She turned and walked around the observation deck toward the elevator, not expecting him to call her back, not feeling his eyes on her anymore, shifting her mind away from him completely. Her thoughts moved effortlessly back to New York. Her time with Lorelei had been a success. Lorelei still liked her. She would return to the office triumphant—unless there was a nasty contract or some other surprise waiting for Wendy when she got back to New York, but she didn’t expect such a thing. Archie would make good on his promise of a promotion and a raise. She would move on to save the next spoiled star. She would be fine, so long as nobody ever mentioned Daniel Blackstone’s name.
Waiting for the elevator, she looked down and realized she was still wearing her diamond ring. Correction: Daniel’s ring. She should have given it back to him. That’s what jilted brides did, right? She certainly didn’t want this reminder on her finger, the band feeling cold now, like a medical instrument that would squeeze her finger off.
Sliding the ring off and slipping it into the pocket of her jeans, she turned around on the deck and looked back the way she’d come, half hoping Daniel had followed her and tiptoed a few steps behind her even now, waiting to apologize.
But that was a ridiculous idea. Daniel didn’t tiptoe. She thought about him saying coldly, Let’s get divorced, which is what we agreed to in the first place, and that pushed the memory of him looking down and seeming hurt out of her head. The elevator arrived. On the ride down, she held her breath, feeling that she was descending into the depths of a mineshaft. Back in the casino, she rode down the escalator and headed for the door to the Strip.