“I have to go,” she whispered, gathering her clothes. She ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind her, just before spilling her tears. She felt like a fool, and worse, she had completely misjudged Arran.
No, not misjudged. She’d offered him the benefit of the doubt because she was attracted to him, ignoring her own instincts. He’d been showing her who he was all along, revealing his true colors, offering her little clues and warning signs but she pretended they weren’t there, like a fool. Had she learned nothing from her past?
And Luke...he saw it. He tried to make her see it too. But he also betrayed her.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then splashed cold water on her face, refusing to meet her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t look at herself, she was too ashamed. She slipped on her undergarments, trying to formulate an escape plan.
“Emma, don’t be this way. Come out here,” Arran insisted, knocking on the door. She ignored him, wrapping her dress around her and tying the sash.
“You’re overreacting. Let’s just go to bed. We can talk about it in the morning when you’re less emotional.”
His pretentious words crawled up her spine, triggering her disgust. They seemed all too familiar. Same tone, different man. Briskly, she opened the door, almost knocking him off balance.
“I’m going home, Arran,” she said, stepping around him. Exasperated, he reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.
“Don’t be silly. Stay. We’ll put this behind us and go on our trip. In a few days, it will all be forgotten.”
“No, I can’t be with you,” she admitted tersely, easing her arm out of his grip. “I tried. I ignored my instincts because I thought there might be potential, that we had something special...”
“What, when you thought it was me at the party? Jesus, Emma, I can fuck you like that if that’s what you want. I was just kidding about the blow-job...”
She shook her head and walked back into the bedroom, collecting her things along the way. She threw everything into her open suitcase and locked it up tight, stepped into her shoes and slipped her purse over her shoulder.
“Emma,” he whined, trying to block her path. He grabbed her shoulders and tried to kiss her, forcing his mouth against hers, hastily knocking their teeth in the process. She yanked her head back and pushed him away as kindly as she could.
“I’ll send the porter up for my things while I wait for a taxi. I’m sorry Arran,” she offered sincerely. She took off the earrings he gifted her and placed them in his hand, helping him to close his palm around them. She held his hand for a moment, hoping to convey her regret. She didn’t want to leave on bad terms, she just wanted to leave.
“You’re really an ungrateful bitch, aren’t you?” he spat, yanking his hand away. “So what now? Are you going to run to Luke?”
She turned away, swallowing back her emotions. He was trying to get a rise out of her, manipulate her with cruelty to cover up his own insecurity. She knew the dance well.
Men like him drank tears for breakfast.
Unwilling to give him the satisfaction or engage in confrontation, she offered a hasty goodbye. She stepped around him and opened the door, ignoring the biting remarks hurled after her.
Chapter 39
She gave the cab driver Luke’s address. She wasn’t sure what she would say or do when she got there, but she needed to confront him. She was angry and embarrassed beyond belief, but more than anything, she was hurt, crushed by his deception.
She wasn’t planning to go see him, in fact, she had almost convinced herself that she never wanted to see him again! But, by the time she’d arrived home and lugged two heavy suitcases up to her apartment she’d worked herself into a state of rage! She was furious with him. For the lies, the breach of trust, the abandonment...
....the girlfriend.
She never saw it coming. Luke had watched her claw her way out of a dark place after her marriage fell apart, he knew how much pain she’d been in. He had been the light at the end of a very black tunnel, and through it all stood by her, refusing to judge or give up on her...or walk away.
Then he did. He just fucked her and walked away, like she was nothing more than one of his cheap Tinder hookups.
So, after tossing back three or four shots of whiskey to settle her nerves (she lost count), something else happened. Her liquid courage kicked in. She was ready to confront him.
“That will be $18.00,” the driver requested, pulling up in front of Luke’s building. She gave him a twenty and told him to keep the change. Emma would have driven herself, but it was difficult parking downtown. That’s why they always ended up hanging out at her place. Besides, she was in no condition to drive.
It had been a few months since she had been to his condo. Aside from a wicked view of the Space Needle, it wasn’t very homey. A cool address to impress the ladies but his furniture was super uncomfortable, designed so women wouldn’t stick around after, the perfect bachelor pad. It had served Luke quite well over the years...
....being that he was a no good, piece of shit player, she thought, wobbling to the door.
She hoped he hadn’t changed the keyless entry code. She punched in his birthday numbers and unlatched the door. Walking as steadily as she could, Emma nodded at the security guard as she passed him, hoping to appear respectable. He didn’t even look up at her.
She took the elevator to his floor, feisty and fired up. It was late, but she didn’t give a shit.
She knocked on his door several times but he didn’t answer. It was a Thursday, close to midnight, and it didn’t dawn on her until right then and there that he might not be home. She banged on the door again, this time with a little more urgency, wondering what the probability was that he was in bed, fucking his supermodel girlfriend.
The door swung open, just as she leaned in to knock one last time. She had to catch herself on the door jamb so she wouldn’t tumble over. Luke reached out to steady her but she pulled away, glaring at him.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she slurred, righting herself.
“Mimi? Have you been drinking?”
“Of course I’ve been drinking! Otherwise, how would I be this drunk?” she spat, “Sheesh, what a dumb question.”
Amused by her response, Luke raised a brow and grinned, stepping aside to invite her in. She shook her head derisively, tossing her shoulders back, and walked inside. His apartment was dimly lit, the glow from the lamp in the bedroom the only light.
“Are you alone?” she asked, peeking down the short hallway.
“Yes, I’m alone, Mimi, it’s after midnight.”
“Like that makes any difference,” she snapped, looking him up and down. Fuck, he looked hot. He was wearing nothing but a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms, cinched tightly around his taut waist, with a six pack for days.
“No Maggie?”
Luke shook his head, regarding her curiously. “No. Why are you here? I thought you would be somewhere over the ocean by now.”
“Ha! You wish!” Emma rolled her eyes, randomly poking his pecs.
“Now, why would I wish that,” he smirked, looking down at her hand as it came to rest on his chest. She reluctantly tore her eyes away from his chiseled torso, raising them to his face.
“Because you’re a fucker, Luke. You’re a friend fucker!” she snorted tersely. She tightly balled her fist and punched him in the shoulder, punctuating her point. He didn’t even flinch but it sure as hell hurt her. “Ow,” she croaked, raising her hand to look at it. “Mimi, what are you talking about?” Luke mused, massaging her sore hand. She wished she wasn’t so drunk. Her brain felt like it was immersed in quicksand, her thoughts completely muddled. And he sure wasn’t helping with his cute little smirk and the hand holding, and all that hotness...
“I’m talking about the party, Luke,” she spat, yanking her hand away, suddenly remembering her mission. She watched the recognition cross his face, his expression instantly changing from mi
ld amusement to deep regret.
At that moment, she knew it was true. She had hoped that maybe Arran had lied, that it was all a big misunderstanding, but Luke’s expression left little doubt. The whole thing made her ill.
No, it really made her ill. She felt her stomach flip, nausea slowly inching up her throat. Wide-eyed, she silently begged Luke to help her. He knew exactly what was happening and without a word, grabbed her hand and quickly escorted her to the bathroom. He switched on the light, kicked up the toilet seat, then held her hair back while she purged everything out. The beef bourguignon, the wine, the whiskey, along with all the pluck she had carried with her to Luke’s apartment, every ounce of courage.
The only thing left was her embarrassment, and plenty of it.
She stood up cautiously, the room spinning around her. Luke was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed casually over his chest. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m going home,” she whispered, leaning over the sink. She turned on the water and splashed it over her mouth and neck, cooling her flushed skin. Cupping her hand under the stream, she raised some water to her mouth, rinsing away the acrid taste of bile.
“You’re not,” Luke objected, handing her a towel. She snatched it from his hands and used it to wipe her face, then set it on the counter beside her.
“I am,” she insisted, bending down to pick her purse off the floor. Big mistake. She felt her balance shift, Luke’s arms the only thing saving her from hitting the floor. She needed to lie down.
“I’m not letting you leave, Mimi. Seriously. Take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Your couch sucks,” she argued, trying to keep her eyes open.
“Yes, but I’,m willing to sacrifice my back for you. Now, let me take you to bed,” he said, leading her out of the bathroom.
“Pffft, that’s what got you into trouble in the first place,” she mumbled, heavily leaning into him. He brought her into his bedroom and lifted her onto the bed, yanking off her shoes. She grabbed the pillow and wrapped her arms around it, allowing Luke to tuck the blankets around her. He turned the light out and started walking toward the door.
“Luke,” she whispered loudly, the way lady drunks do.
“Yes?”
“When I sober up, I got a bone to pick with you!”
“Yes, I gathered that.”
“You suck,” she slurred, her tongue as heavy as her eyelids.
“Yes.”
“I need to tell you how fucking bad you hurt me,” she choked, “then I’ll leave, and you never have to see me again...”
She was asleep before Luke even closed the door.
Chapter 40
Luke woke up, the morning sun hitting his face. It took him a moment to get his bearings straight, confused by the unfamiliar brightness. He groaned his disapproval, pulling the blanket over his head. It took him a minute to process where he was, and why he wasn’t in his own bed.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, sitting up, his thoughts quickly shifting to the night before. Frowning, he pulled his hand through his hair, trying to force his head to clear. It had taken him hours to fall asleep, his guilt eating away at him. Mimi had shown up at his door, crushed, and more than a little drunk, visibly shaken. He knew he had to talk to her, to come clean about everything, but he thought he had more time. He planned to confess everything when she returned from her trip, but she didn’t leave.
Why?
He tossed the blanket to the floor and stood up, stretching out his stiff back, accepting the pain as his penance. The agony in his back was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching pain in his heart. He had hurt her. He would have thrown himself at her feet, begged her to forgive him, tried to repair the damage he’d done, but she’d been so wasted and in no condition to reason.
He filled a glass of water and palmed two Tylenols, quietly picking his way down the hall.
She was going to have a hell of a hangover, no doubt.
“Mimi,” he whispered, gently opening the door. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, his dark bedroom a stark contrast to the sunlit living room he left behind. The bed was empty.
“Fuck,” he sighed, his heart sinking in his chest. She must have woken early and snuck out. He hurried back to the kitchen to find his phone, hoping she’d left him a message. She didn’t. It was early, only a few minutes past 7:00. When did she leave, he wondered? He tossed his phone on the counter, much harder than he meant to.
Chapter 41
Luke tried to text Mimi all morning, even calling her once or twice, but she didn’t respond. His brain, consumed with thoughts of her, was completely useless at work so he feigned a migraine and slipped out before noon, drawing curious looks from his co-workers. His boss, Barry, raised a brow, certain that he was just trying to get a jump on the weekend, but Luke just ignored his cynicism. He rarely took time off and was almost never sick, so Barry could go fuck himself. The way he was feeling, he was no use anyway.
After an important errand, Luke found himself in Mimi’s parking lot, trying to summon the courage to go up and talk with her. Her car was in her parking space, so she was definitely home he surmised, unless she took a cab somewhere else after leaving his place. He frowned at the thought, picturing her in Arran’s arms, being comforted and consoled by him. He hated the image and dismissed it quickly, giving his head a shake. No, she couldn’t be with him, he reasoned. She’d called off the trip.
“Stop being a pussy and go,” he scolded, “it’s now or never.”
He turned off the ignition, shoving his keys in his pocket and opened the car door. He hauled himself out of the car, his limbs heavy with dread, anticipating the worst. He had no idea what he was walking into or if he would be leaving without a friend.
He used her spare key, afraid that if he buzzed up she wouldn’t let him in. He quietly knocked on her door, calling out her name.
“Mimi, it’s me. Can I come in?”
She didn’t seem surprised to see him. She just opened the door and stepped aside, her face devoid of emotion. He hoped it was due to a hangover and not because she despised him.
“I apologize for my behavior last night,” she offered flatly, motioning him inside. He followed her into the living room, where she sat down, landing heavily on the sofa. She was in rough shape, he observed. Her eyes were puffy, as though she’d been crying. He swallowed hard, choking back his guilt.
“I had no business showing up at your place after midnight, drunk like that. I’m not sure why I did it.”
He smiled weakly and shrugged, taking a seat beside her.
“It’s fine.”
“Why are you here?” she asked coolly.
“I wanted to see if you were ok?”
“Hmm,” she mumbled, holding her feelings close.
Her chilly demeanor was completely out of character, making Luke even more anxious. He sat back on the sofa, patiently waiting for her to say something, gathering his own thoughts. The silence was torture and after a minute or two it became clear she wasn’t offering more.
“You left without saying goodbye.” he said, breaking the awkward silence, coaxing her to open up. She rolled her eyes at him, and snorted wryly, making him wish he’d opened with something else.
“Isn’t that what we do now, Luke? Just leave without an explanation?”
“Sorry,” he offered humbly, recalling the night of the party and his hasty exit. He’d had no choice, he panicked. She raised her head and stared at him, evaluating him closely, as though measuring his worth. He hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed.
“I’m so mad at you, Luke,” she snapped, her cheeks flush with anger.
“About which part?” he replied softly.
“All of it! How could you do that to me? You just left me?” she cried, her eyes accusing him. “You fucked me and then let me believe that another man touched me like that...another man made me feel the way I did...Why? Was it that awful for you?”
“No,” he whispered, drop
ping his head.
It hadn’t been that way at all. Nothing about that night had gone as planned. He had been impulsive and protective and if he was being completely honest, a little possessive. He’d been wrestling with his feelings the entire week up until the party and had even considered backing out. Instead, he convinced himself to go, locking it all down, hoping that if he ignored his desires they would magically evaporate into thin air.
She had looked amazing that night too, her eyes glowing with excitement, cheeks flushed with anticipation. He knew she was anxious but it only added to her charm, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to her. No one else in the room that night excited him the way she had, her scent intoxicating him. When the time came to draw names, he held that slip of paper in his hands, anxiously hedging about participating, unsure he even wanted to fuck another woman. Then Arran walked in. The smug bastard just walked right in front of him, turning back to give him a wink. The son of a bitch was goading him, and they both knew it. In the most charismatic way, Arran told the hostess that he expected Mimi to draw his name, then slipped her a fifty.
That’s when it happened. At that moment he could have made a dozen different choices, better choices, but he acted on impulse. The thought of Arran with Mimi that night was just too much for him to process. He wanted her. Mimi was his.
After Arran left, he asked the hostess not to do it. He pleaded with her to make sure it was his name left in the bowl for Mimi to choose, not Arran’s. She seemed to take pity on him, appreciating his romantic gesture.
He led Mimi to a private corner, still unsure what he would do. She waited for him, her timidness arousing him. Fuck, he hungered for her. So he kissed her, tentative at first, but then something clicked. Her mouth felt so right on his, and at that moment, nothing else mattered. Everything about her was perfect, he could have swallowed her whole. Her kisses, the caresses, her taste, his flesh against hers, it was sublime.
He’d never experienced such intense sensations with any woman before...and it wasn’t just physical. Every part of him surrendered to her that night, body and soul, and it scared the fuck out of him. As their love-making came to an end, he realized what he had done, how wrong he’d been to deceive her. He crossed the line, contaminated their friendship. The emotions were spinning so violently in his head he couldn’t think straight, and he was livid that he acted so impulsively. He couldn’t deal with those monumental feelings.
Protecting Her Heart Page 21
