Fuck fuck fuck, no no, go away. Quickly, I push down on the end call button. I don’t want to speak to Dan ever again.
When I try a second time to dial Liam’s number, I accidentally drop the phone. “Come on, Becky,” I mutter and bend down to pick it up.
On my third attempt, I hear the familiar ring tone. My whole body is shaking, and I’m rehearsing what I’m going to say.
“Liam, darling, you were right all along”―no, that’s fucking lame. Should I grovel?
Maybe I’ll need to say something like “Oh, Liam, can you ever forgive me pleaseeee?”
A little better, but I don’t think it’ll cut it. I bite my bottom lip.
He’s still not picked up the phone.
Shit.
What about just asking him if he’ll meet me and then just kiss him and beg for forgiveness? Of course, I’ll tell him I love him. Doing it in person would have the benefit of me being able to touch him.
Ugh. Bad idea, Becky.
“Liam Black’s phone.” When a female voice answers, I nearly drop the phone into the ice bucket with the champagne bottle. Ouch, that would have been a fucking disaster. Most of the ice has melted, which means my mobile would have gone for a little bath.
“Ehm.” I’m not sure what to say. I didn’t expected a woman to answer Liam’s phone. Had he run away from me into the arms of another woman for a consolation fuck?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I feel tears about to spill again. I really was a stupid, gullible little girl. How could I really think Liam was in love with me and right now pining for my lost love?
“Hello?” the female voice rouses me out of my miserable thoughts. “It’s Dahlia, Liam’s personal assistant. How can I help you?”
Personal assistant?
Of course.
I smack my forehead with the palm of my left hand.
“It’s Becky here,” I manage to croak into the phone. “I was just wondering if I could speak with Liam please?”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Becky, but I don’t know where he is.” There’s a bit of a hesitation before she continues. “Are you the Becky I’ve heard so much about, Liam’s wife?”
At first, I nod mechanically before realize I’m on the phone, and so I say quickly, “The very same.”
“I haven’t seen him for a while. I assumed he was with you.”
Her words hit the mark. Guilt floods through me.
“Ehm, I really need to find him to smooth some things over,” I admit, and my mind’s working overtime now, trying to come up with places he might be.”
“Well, you go, girl, and find him. I’m rooting for you.”
“Thanks,” I say and hand the phone to Mysti May before I sprint out of the private bar. I hear Mysti May continuing the conversation where I left off in typical Texas beauty queen fashion.
“Dahlia, is it? Well, thank you, darlin’, just ever so much for your help. You know…has anyone ever told you that you have a lovely voice?”
If I was a betting woman—which I might be—I’d say that Mysti May might be hitting on Liam’s assistant right now.
I wish her luck. I probably need a little luck myself right now.
If I’m going to catch up to my husband and beg for his forgiveness, a little luck is all I need.
Chapter 40
Becky
9:02 PM THURSDAY
If only I were a Jedi warrior or someone with some fucking mind powers, I’d be able to make the fucking lift move at twice the speed it’s moving.
Better still if I were Captain Kirk or Spock. I could teleport myself to where I wanted to go. Or something like that.
Of course, if I had mind control powers, my options would be endless. I could make the lift move, or maybe even get Liam to come to me. Now wouldn’t that be neat.
Please, please let it move at supersonic speed and take me to find Liam. I need to get there to find Liam.
I close my eyes briefly, hoping that when I open them again, my prayer will be answered, and the lift will be ready for me.
But of course it is not.
Maybe the damn thing has finally given up, or gone on holiday for the rest of the day. There are so many strange things happening at this place, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what the hell is going on.
I sigh and actually toy with the idea of taking the stairs. Of course, that would just be ridiculous.
With the lack of total food and the sheer amount of alcohol I have sloshing around in my system right now, I think I would collapse on the first fucking step.
Finally, the elevator arrives and the door opens.
Luckily, no one’s in it as I leap over that little gap every lift has.
Sometimes, I hesitate to cross that little threshold, imagining all kinds of monsters down in that tiny gap about to come out and grab me…but not right now, no. Right now, I pay no attention to this little gap and go ahead and press the buttons to get me moving.
It seems to take like forever for the doors to glide shut. Faster, faster, faster, I mumble, moving from one foot to the other as if my motion might increase the speed with which this stupid lift is moving.
Finally, I hear the low hum and feel the upward movement. Come on, let me find Liam. I need to fucking find Liam and beg for his forgiveness.
I’ve decided begging is what I need to do, and I keep rehearsing the words I’m going to use.
I’m sorry.
I should have listened to you.
You would never have lied to me.
I’m sorry.
When the lift stops, I frown.
This isn’t the level I was after. What the fuck was going on?
A man is standing at the open door. For a microsecond, maybe even less, my heart does somersaults, and I’m about to throw myself at the man of my dreams.
Except―my eyes adjust, and my heart stops beating altogether until it increases its tempo.
“H-hey, Becky-beans,” Dan smiles and reaches out for me.
When his hands touch mine, I cringe inwardly. I want to pull away from him, but he’s got other ideas.
“Dan,” is all I’m able to say, stuck for something suitable.
I hadn’t expected to run into Dan before Liam. My entire focus had been my husband.
Liam, my husband—not asshole Dan the Man.
The words fill me with a warm glow. I’ll be all right. I’ll be able to handle Dan.
“You’re here.” I put on my subservient voice. “I thought you were busy with the…” I don’t finish my sentence on purpose.
“Surprise.” He holds his arms out, and I see he’s wearing his boring suit. Liam doesn’t wear a suit and looks like a million percent better than this dick. “I finished early and thought I’d surprise my Becky-beans. About time I spend some time with my bride-to-be before the wedding.”
The way he emphasizes the word my does not escape me. I don’t like it. It takes every ounce of self-control not to hit him.
He leans toward me, and I see his mouth come for mine. Fuck. I don’t want to him to kiss me.
I turn my head a little to the side and his lips touch my cheek.
If he’s noticed my evasion, he’s pretending he hasn’t.
“Well,” I say and frantically try and come up with a plan. Should I feign illness and faint? No, I don’t think that would solve anything. Think, Becky, think.
His arm goes around my waist and pulls me into him. It feels awkward and wrong. I try and relax, but my body is about as stiff as a tennis racket.
“And about the other night Becky-beans.” He’s leaning into me, and his lips brush the top of my hair. “Whatever happened—whatever you did—I want you to know that all is forgiven.”
Of all the fucking hypocritical things to say, he forgives me. I almost laugh out loud.
Newsflash, Dan: I don’t fucking forgive you.
“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” I mum
ble and run my hand along his waist line.
Dan laughs. It’s an arrogant laugh. “Oh, someone’s been missing me.”
In your fucking dreams, I want to say, but I don’t. I’ve finally come up with a plan.
As soon as we’re inside the bridal suite, I wrap my arms around him and let my lips caress his neck as my fingers play with his hair.
“Oh, Dan,” I whisper moving further into the room.
Dan laughs. He seems a little, what, embarrassed? I’m not quite sure how to describe his reaction.
“Why don’t we just sit on the couch and have a little welcome cuddle?” He unlocks my hands from behind his neck and puts them down my side.
“Cuddle schmuddle.” I pout and put my hands on his chest. I try and steer us away from the couch.
“You’ve been back home all on your own, working you ass off, haven’t you?” I whisper and massage his abs as we continue to move into the living area. “About time you have some fun.”
Dan laughs. I think it may be a fake laugh, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything about Dan anymore.
I try and push any image of Dan in here with a hooker out of my mind. I don’t really need to go there. It’s enough that I know what he’s done. I don’t need to fucking visualize it.
“You’re very lucky I’m such a forgiving man, you know. It sounds like the other night was a wild night. I don’t think it was a night you made the best choices.”
It is with great effort I suppress the rage building in me like a tornado. Wasn’t there some saying about not throwing with stones when sitting in a glass house?
Well, Dan’s got some nerve berating me. But I bite my lip.
And as for choices he’s got no fucking clue, because that night I made the best fucking choice of my life.
“You’re absolutely right, darling,” I coo and keep moving us along in the room. “And I’m soooo pleased you’re here now. Finally, it’s just the two of us.”
Dan smiles and pats my head. “You’ll have to make sure that when we’re married, you keep making good choices, Becky. It’s important that a wife of mine behaves appropriately.”
His words are razor sharp and cut me deep. If I had any doubt about Dan before, he just sealed his own fucking fate.
Had he always been like this? I shake my head.
“I know, sweetheart,” I lower my head and sound as demure as I can. I let go of him and start to unbutton my shirt a little. “But let’s not talk about it anymore,” I plead with him.
“You broke all my rules, Becky,” Dan continues, not quite willing to let the matter go. I’ve got his interest, though, with one button coming off after another. “I know you must have.”
My head tilts a little to the right, and I smile.
“I know I’ve been a bad girl.” Another button opens, and I’ve exposed the top part of my lacy bra. Dan’s taking a step toward me.
“As long as you understand you can’t break my rules once we’re married.” He pauses and extends his fingers to caress my chest where the lace is exposed. “It’s probably those friends of yours. I think they’re a bad influence. They lead you off the straight and narrow path.”
To keep him focused on me, I nod.
“Of course, darling,” I agree, and now, I’m out on the balcony. This is slowing my search for Liam down a bit, but I realize I need to deal with this jerk first.
I know I won’t regret it.
I dance around Dan, so his back is away from the door. A few more steps, and…perfect.
My hands glide up his abdomen and chest, stopping just below his shoulder.
“You’re so right, darling, you really are.” I feel him take another step backward.
Fucking perfect.
“You know something, Dan?”
He looks at me. How had I ever thought I loved this man? There must have been something seriously wrong with me.
“What, Becky-beans?”
His hands are on my hips.
“You’re right that I’m lucky. I’m the luckiest fucking woman in the world, thanks to you.” I smile sweetly at what used to be my husband-to-be.
And then I push with both my hands against his chest as hard as I can.
I watch his face as he falls backwards into the salt water swimming pool—where, if I’m not mistaken, the sharp point of a gray dorsal fin is awakened by the splash he makes when he hits the water.
“And don’t call me Becky-beans,” I add. “My name is Becky Black.”
Dan’s a smart man. He’ll put two and two together eventually—if the shark doesn’t eat him first.
Chapter 41
Liam
9:02 PM THURSDAY
The look on my face right now says, Get the fuck out of my way.
I’m walking a million miles an hour. I don’t have time for fucking tourists right now. And yet the tourists stop me anyway.
I might as well have a blinking neon arrow pointing at me with a sign saying, Ask me how to get to the Royale, which, usually, I wouldn’t mind. After all—I own the damn place. But right now, I’m in a hurry, and these tourists are in my way.
First, it’s this little old lady. She’s got that evangelical look about her that says she knows the way to salvation, and it’s in the gaming rooms of my casino.
“Sonny, can you tell me the way to the Royale? Mavis told me I haven’t done Vegas if I haven’t done the Royale.”
I point her two blocks down and tell her to turn right, where she’ll see the sign. Her face brightens and somewhere, something inside me cracks. She’s a sweet old thing, but she’s got fire in her eyes, like she’s a teenager on her way to a slightly illegal hook up.
What the hell, I think. I might as well get her pulse racing just a little bit more. “Hey, Lois,” I call after her. “When you find the place, tell them you need five hundred in chips to get the day started. Give them this and tell them it’s on my tab.”
I scribble instructions on my card for George the concierge.
She looks at me suspiciously. “What’s the catch? You from the Royale or something?”
“Hey,” I assure her, “this town is about getting lucky, and you just did. Simple as that.”
“Well, thank you,” she says, and even though she totters, she looks like she might jump up and click her heels.
That’s one happy person in the universe, I tell myself. I resolve to stay the grouch, though, so the whole firmament of things stays in balance.
I’m dawdling now, looking at my shoes, and making an effort to shrug off the pleasure the old dear left me so that I can stay pissed off.
It’s better than feeling sorry for myself—and I’ve got plenty to feel fucking sorry about.
Becky.
No. Don’t fucking go there.
I bump into a guy holding his wife’s hand.
“Sorry,” I say.
“I’m really sorry,” he says at the same time.
My “sorry” is automatic. His is genuine and heartfelt.
I’m looking at a couple who has come straight from wherever it is you still wear cowboy boots and hats. They both have a smile as wide as the horizon.
“Say,” the man begins, “can you tell us where we might find the Royale?”
I look around and tell him to go straight for one block and turn right.
“Woohoo, Lorraine,” he says, “We almost did it by ourselves. I can feel the luck in my veins. Now let’s get there and get busy.”
There’s that glow again. I can feel my inner grouch melting. They’re about to walk off like kids with spending money who were let loose at the county fair.
“Just a minute,” I say. I sign my card and give it to them. I tell them the same thing I told the old woman.
The man looks suspicious, but Lorraine is on to me. From under her eyelashes, she gives me a wicked ‘Come hither’ grin and says, “Did we just get Vegas lucky?”
“Yup,” I say. “That about explains it.”<
br />
The man opens his mouth, but she takes his arm and says, “Come on, honey. We’ve got business to attend to.”
So okay, I’m not pissed off anymore and I’m not a grouch. But I’m still entitled to feeling sorry for myself. What’s the hurry, anyway? I’ve got all day to get back to the Royale. It’s not as if someone’s waiting there for me.
For all I know, Becky’s back in Dan’s arms by now.
No. She wouldn’t, would she?
A guy is walking toward me now, and he’s not paying attention. It’s my turn to get out of the way.
There’s something about this guy, though. He’s homeless for sure. I can tell by the state of his clothes and the hard edges on his face.
He walks with a limp, but his back is straight, and there’s pride in his stride. Something tells me he’s a vet.
“You lost, man?” I ask him.
“No, sir,” he answers. “Just not busy right now.”
I hear the pride in his voice that tells me he would rather be busy. He doesn’t seem the type to take charity, but I give him no choice. I take the wad of cash I have in my pocket and press it into his hand.
“There’s a catch,” I say as I do it. “Don’t drop it down the slots.”
And I pick up my pace and walk on.
“Thanks, man,” he calls after me.
The transaction feels more like an investment than a gift. Of course I can’t be sure, but I hope he’s fucking genuine and will put it to good use.
Maybe I still feel glum, but at least there are four more happy people in the world right now, so that’s something to smile about.
We should do good things for others more often, I resolve―but then I remember the way Becky reacted when I told her about Dan. I was trying to be nice, and what did I get in return? Fucking nothing.
A happy face attracts the best of the universe, it seems. Suddenly, I’m surrounded by softness and curves and the perfume of beautiful women.
I don’t get a say as they take me by the arms and huddle in close, arms outstretched for the perfect selfies.
“You don’t mind, do you?” one of them whispers in my ear.
It takes me a moment to realize what’s happened. I’ve stumbled into a roving bachelorette party on the move. I smile for the cameras.
The Other Brother_A Billionaire Hangover Romance Page 23
