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  But in a moment, her sorrow morphed into something more powerful. Anger. She didn’t need to stick around with a man who treated her happiness as something he could buy—who treated her art as a pastime he would placate. Siobhan looked up at Veronica and in a steely voice, said, “Don’t mail these.”

  “What? Why?” Veronica’s voice sounded with disbelief.

  “Because he doesn’t deserve them.”

  Chapter 29

  Siobhan stood inside the ascending elevator, fuming. When the doors slid open, Derick was waiting for her. “This is a surprise,” he said, happy to see her.

  He smiled, but she didn’t return it. “You want to talk about surprises? I’ve had a few of my own recently.”

  Derick’s brow furrowed slightly. “You want to come in and talk?”

  “No. I don’t, actually. I think I can say what I need to from right here.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, didn’t you say that I shouldn’t invite strangers into my apartment? I’m thinking I shouldn’t get too comfortable in the apartments of strangers, either.”

  Derick’s eyes narrowed in what seemed to be confusion. “What are you talking about, Siobhan?”

  “You didn’t even trust me enough to tell me your real name.”

  Derick opened his mouth, but then shut it.

  Siobhan rolled her eyes. Even he knew there was no way to explain himself.

  “Is that what this is really about? My name?” Derick asked.

  Siobhan looked away and let out a disgusted laugh.

  Derick reached out hesitantly toward her hand, but she crossed her arms over her chest before he could make any physical contact with her.

  “No. It’s not about your name. It’s about the fact that you’re the one who bought all my paintings. I guess you didn’t think it was important enough to tell me that, either.”

  Derick didn’t know how to respond.

  “Congratulations. You managed to find another way to make me feel like a complete failure.”

  Derick’s faced softened. “I didn’t do it to make you feel like a failure. I did it—”

  “Save it, Derick. Or Roderick. Or whatever the hell your name is.”

  “Siobhan, please. Just listen.”

  “There isn’t anything you can say that’ll excuse what you did,” she said. “And do you really think you should dig yourself into an even bigger hole right now?”

  She could tell from the way Derick’s mouth parted that he wanted to say something. Thankfully he didn’t. She needed him to hear her final words to him so she could let him go.

  “After everything we’ve talked about, everything I’ve told you about my issues with your money and about how important my art is to me, I really can’t believe you’d do something like this.” Tensing her jaw, Siobhan pressed her lips together roughly. “I thought you supported me. It’s bad enough my parents—”

  “I did support you. I do. That’s why I bought them. To help you.”

  “Don’t do that.” Her voice had a cold, hard edge to it. “This doesn’t help me. And you knew that, or you wouldn’t have kept the truth from me.”

  Siobhan kept her spine erect. “You took me out to celebrate, Derick.” With her arms still crossed, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You let me be proud of an accomplishment I didn’t achieve. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  Derick shook his head, his chin to his chest and his hand wringing his brow.

  “Of course you don’t. If you knew, you wouldn’t have bought my paintings.” She took a step back from him. “I’m done with this. All of it.”

  With that, Siobhan squared her shoulders and pressed the button for the elevator to return to the lobby. She was leaving everything behind that didn’t support her: her high-handed boyfriend, this exhausting city, a job that valued her appearance over anything else. If Siobhan was going to find herself, it would have to be in a place with a community that would build her up as an artist instead of tear her down. A place like the one Kayla had suggested.

  That settles it, Siobhan thought. She was going to move far, far away. And nothing was going to hold her back.

  He’s worth millions, but he’s worthless without her.

  After a traumatic breakup with her billionaire boyfriend Derick, Siobhan moves to Detroit, where she can build her painting career on her own terms. But Derick wants her back. And though Siobhan’s body comes alive at his touch, she doesn’t know if she can trust him again.…

  Read on for a sneak peek at the steamy second book in the Diamond Trilogy, Radiant, available only from

  Hefting her bag higher onto her shoulder, Siobhan waited for the light to turn green so she could cross the busy intersection. As she transferred her weight from one foot to the other, Siobhan’s impatience escalated. She needed to paint.

  The phone call from the girls the previous night had kickstarted an emotional storm of Dust Bowl proportions. Every thought was hidden beneath a thin film of all things Derick.

  As she continued walking toward her studio, Siobhan cursed Marnel for approximately the five hundredth time. She had worked so hard to actively not think of Derick over the past month, and it had been working. Perhaps she hadn’t been completely happy yet, but she’d been getting there. Making new friends, finding a well-paying job, and having her art be well received had all been major stepping-stones toward an improved mood for Siobhan.

  But now she was grumpy. And tense. And…sad. Damn Marnel.

  Siobhan turned her head to look into her favorite coffee shop. Since she’d barely slept the night before, a caffeine boost would come in handy. But as she gazed in the window, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She jerked to a stop, not because of what she saw through the window, but because of what she saw reflected in it. Or who, rather.

  Her sudden stop had caused a man to barrel into her, breaking her focus.

  “Sorry,” they both muttered as the man proceeded down the sidewalk, and Siobhan’s eyes darted back to the window.

  He was gone. But she was sure she’d seen…no it couldn’t have been. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d left New York. Siobhan shook her head. Now she wasn’t just thinking about him, but she was imagining seeing him, too.

  Tightening her grip on her bag, she quickened her pace toward her studio where she could lose herself in her work and forget all about him.

  As if it’d be possible to ever forget Derick Miller.

  About the Author

  Elizabeth Hayley is actually “Elizabeth” and “Hayley,” two friends who love reading romance novels to obsessive levels. This mutual love prompted them to put their English degrees to good use by penning their own romances.

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  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2016 by James Patterson

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  ISBN 978-0-316-27641-2

  E3 20160926-NF-DA