I’m quaking inside. She’s right. He doesn’t really care about me, and it’s obvious to her because she knows him really. Even though I’m here to make her believe he loves me, I’ve fallen short. She’s seen right through our lie. And it is still a lie. No amount of mind-blowing sex will change that. Darn her for doing this to me.
She folds her tanned, toned arms and smiles in smug triumph. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“He’s still in love with me, but he’s just too proud to admit it. That’s why he came here this weekend. Because he can’t stand knowing I’m marrying another man without being here to see it for himself. I wonder if he’ll even be able to get through the ceremony without objecting.”
I gaze at her in wonder. “You’re deluded.”
“We’ll see,” she whispers with a triumphant smile. Then she turns on her heel and walks away.
I wish I could sink into the floor and never come back. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this level of humiliation. No amount of money is worth this. I can’t believe I ever agreed to leave myself open to this.
After all, who in their right mind would believe Brock would actually want me? I’m nothing compared to Charlotte. Maybe I’m smarter, and I’m a decent person, but what difference does that make in this cruel world? If he went for a girl like her, she’s the kind of girl he really wants. Sexy, flashy, sophisticated. I was crazy to ever think a few hot kisses and an afternoon in bed can make any difference.
I stand in the middle of the foyer. I was going to the spa, wasn’t I?
It all seems pointless now. Why would I bother looking as good as I can tonight when Brock doesn’t really want me and Charlotte knows it? Then I straighten my shoulders. I took on this job and I will do it to the best of my ability. Brock will never be able to accuse me of doing half the job. Only sheer willpower keeps my feet moving in the right direction. I may have done a very, very stupid thing to get emotionally involved with Brock, but it doesn’t mean I have to go to the wedding not looking my best.
I still have my pride.
“You seem rather tense this afternoon.” The stylist frowns at me in the mirror, where I can gauge the progress she’s making on my hair. It hangs in long curls, fresh out of the rollers she just removed.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I lie through my teeth.
“Maybe you should spend a little time with the masseuse,” she suggests. “If you clench your teeth any harder, you’ll break them.”
“Is it that obvious?” I ask, my shoulders slumping. A complete and total stranger sees how depressed I am right now. I’m sure Brock will be able to see it too, and that just makes me feel worse.
“I’m afraid it is,” she confirms cheerfully.
Of course, she might just be trying to sell a massage. What do the masseuses do? Tell their clients they have split ends? It’s a relief when my phone buzzes. Saved by the text.
And what a text. From Brock.
Where are you? Get up here now. We need to talk ASAP.
Oh, wonderful. I’m halfway through my appointment and he needs to talk. No, he demands to talk. Where does he get off demanding anything from me?
Oh, right. He’s the person giving me a quarter of a million bucks for being here with him. I guess I could make something out of the way my hair currently looks. “I’m going to have to cut this short,” I explain, removing my cape. At least, I don’t have to answer any more questions about what’s wrong with me.
Anyway, he needs to know about my little altercation with Charlotte. He should know that we didn’t fool her. She might act like her bitchy, smug self when we see each other after the wedding and it will go better if he can anticipate what she thinks she knows. Or what she’s absolutely right about.
That he’s still in love with her.
God, why was I stupid enough to forget that part? I should’ve put a stop to what happened today. Still, I can’t pretend I didn’t want it just as much as he seemed to.
“Brock?” I call out when I open the door to the suite and find that he’s not waiting for me. I expected to see him standing in living room, hands clasped behind his back, demanding to know why it took me so long to get upstairs. Instead, the suite is quiet.
“Hello?” I walk to his closed bedroom door and tap gently on it. What if this is the opposite of what I’m thinking? What if he brought me up here for Round Two? And what do I do if that’s the case? I open the door. “Brock? You in here?”
He’s not.
Charlotte is.
Chapter 32
Dani
Charlotte bolts upright in bed, gasping and clutching the sheets around her naked body.
I have to lean against the wall because—oh, my God, the room is spinning. This is a nightmare. I fell asleep in the elevator, or down at the spa and this is just the worst nightmare of my entire life.
It has to be.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I try again. “What are you doing here?” As though I need an explanation. I can’t understand this. Because having sex with only one woman in a single afternoon isn’t enough for him, I guess. His side of the bed looks messed up and the shower is running.
“What’s it look like?” Charlotte challenges, glaring at me like she has the right to be annoyed that I’m here.
I tremble for a moment before coming back to my senses. Well, I won’t let her make me feel like the bitch here. “It looks like you slept with Brock on your wedding day, you slut.” I’ve never, ever in my entire life, said something like that to someone. Not to their face, at any rate, but she truly deserves it.
The bathroom door opens before she has the chance to reply, and I turn my rage towards Brock.
He steps into the room wearing a towel around his waist and nothing else.
Rage and heartbreak. How could he do this? All the things he said. And he had to go and sleep with her now, after having sex with me this morning.
God, I was so stupid.
We stare at each other in shock. I suppose if I’m honest it’s not like he lied to me, is it? He told me he was still in love with his ex and wanted to make her jealous. He told me this was a business arrangement, and I wanted it that way. And maybe it has worked out perfectly for him. I made her jealous. She came to him and now, they are together. Maybe I have no right to suffer through the chest-crushing heartache at the sight of his face, but here I am. Suffering nonetheless.
“What the fuck?” he says.
“You pig! How could you do something like this? How could either of you?” I yell. I don’t stick around to wait for his pathetic excuses, since I have no desire to hear any of them. I wish I could forget all of this, forget I ever met him. Forget the way he touched me and kissed me and stared into my eyes…
“Wait, Dani!”
He’s probably following me, but I don’t care. I can’t stop. I don’t ever want to see him again. If I look into those eyes, I might want to believe the lies he’ll inevitably spew and I can’t leave myself open to him. Not anymore. Not when he’d go so far as to have sex with her. Her! The same day as me, hours before her wedding. I never really knew him. He must be as cunning and manipulative as she is. No wonder he wants her. They’re perfect for each other. The thought bounces through my head as I run through the suite and back through the door, out into the hallway.
I can still hear him as I throw myself into the elevator, calling my name. Let him. He got what he wanted, didn’t he? He got his real, big true love back. I was just the cleaner that he paid to do a job. My eyes fill with tears of self-pity. I dash them away.
No, I should take responsibility for my pain. It’s not his fault I was stupid enough to give my heart to someone who never lied about who they were truly in love with. By the time the doors glide open to reveal the lobby, I’m half-blinded by tears and choked by sobs. I don’t even know where I’m going or how I’ll get there. I left everything upstairs. I just want to go back home to my little apartment and my little job. At least there, I
knew where I stood. I was the cleaner. I cleaned their shit and they paid me money. They didn’t pretend to want me and hurt me. I’ve never felt this lost in my life.
“Dani?” Mark takes me by the shoulders when I bump into him. Literally. I can hardly see a thing and don’t care very much, anyway.
At least, I bumped into someone familiar.
“What’s wrong?”
“I—I can’t talk about it,” I babble, shaking my head. I have to get away from him too. He belongs to the same class of people. People who use their money and everyone around them to get whatever they want. Anyway, the last thing I want is to talk about Brock with his best friend. I don’t want to talk to anybody about what just happened.
It’s all too shameful.
He seems to understand this. At least, the slight smile he gives me says he does. “You need a drink, I think.”
I don’t have the chance to disagree before he’s slinging an arm around me and guiding me out the door. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here. I’m tired of this place, anyway,” he announces. “Some situations call for a drink at a dive bar, don’t you think?”
Truer words were never spoken.
Chapter 33
Dani
“They’re both royally screwed up. They deserve each other,” I say miserably, finishing my drink. Whiskey goes down way too smooth when it’s mixed with ginger ale…and an aching heart.
“I think there’s been some kind of a mistake,” Mark muses, toying with his still half-full glass. Compared to the way he was slinging them back last night, he’s exerting quite a bit of self-control. Or maybe he’s hung over and taking it easy. Regardless, he seems to be thinking hard about what I just described.
“A mistake?” I snort, rolling my eyes. “I should’ve known better than to think I’d get any sympathy from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re bros, right? You wouldn’t take my side here. Not that I really have a side,” I admit, staring at my empty glass.
“Thanks for giving me so much credit.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t you guys have a stupid code or something? Wouldn’t he defend you if you were in his shoes.”
“I never said I was defending him,” he argues, leaning in. “I just said it seems like there’s a mistake here, somewhere. I know Brock. And he wouldn’t do this.”
“Stop. Just stop, okay? This is the mistake, right here. Talking with you about this.” I start to stand.
He holds me in place. Just as demanding as his buddy. “You’re going to wait a minute, and I’m gonna clear up a few things for you.”
I slam myself back onto the vinyl stool. He’s right about this place being a dive. Windowless, a little grimy, and very depressing. Strangely, this is exactly what I expected when I came to Las Vegas. It was from a movie I saw when I was a kid. The sort of hole where losers come to drink their troubles away after taking a gamble and losing everything. I took a gamble, and look where it got me.
I sigh. “What could you possibly clear up?”
“For one thing, Brock is not in love with Charlotte.”
I rear up instantly. “Bull. That’s the reason he brought me here in the first place, because he’s so hung-up on her.” I pat his shoulder in a fake show of sympathy. “It’s okay. I understand. Sometimes, even best friends don’t share everything.”
“You don’t know half of what you think you know,” he insists. “Stop with the smartass comments and listen for a minute. Do you know how to listen? God, no wonder he likes you so much. You’re both just as thick-headed as the other.”
“Very nice,” I mutter.
“I’m serious. Just listen. Please.” He takes my hand, and holds it tight in both of his. “Brock isn’t in love with Charlotte. He was never in love with her. I don’t know what it was, really. Lust. She was his mistress, you know? He gave her lots and lots of money and she gave him sex. It’s how he operates. I’m sort of the same way, so I get it.”
Yeah, I know how he operates. He’s giving me lots and lots of money too.
“When he found out she was getting married, he probably felt secretly relieved. Especially since, it’s so obvious that it all was such a sham. I mean, me as the best man? When I never met the groom before this weekend, and was never friends with her? It’s painfully obvious this was all an elaborate ploy to get under his skin, and looks like it failed big time too.”
“Actually, judging by the fact that I found her in his bed, her plan worked very well.”
“You still don’t get it,” he insists. “He didn’t come here out of love for her, or some deep need to make sure she knows what she’s missing out on by marrying somebody else.”
“Oh, really? Because that’s what he told me. He brought me here to make her jealous, because he couldn’t stand seeing her marry somebody else. This was all a great, big lie. Like I said, I don’t think you two are on the same page.” I shrug, as though it doesn’t matter, as though my heart isn’t breaking into a thousand pieces. “I get it. You’re guys. You don’t want to talk about your feelings or whatever.”
“You’re the one who’s two steps behind,” he says. “Listen to me. Really think about this. Don’t you remember Brock? From when you were kids?”
I stare at him. This is unexpected. For the second time today, I’m truly gobsmacked and have no idea what to say. “From when we were kids?” I eventually whisper, more to myself than to him. “I met him for the first time a few days ago.”
He chuckles. “No. You didn’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Both of you know each other.”
I frown. “We do?”
“Well, maybe you weren’t good buddies or anything. But he remembered you the minute he saw you. He told me all about it. God, I wish he would’ve just told you. This would’ve all been a lot simpler.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You went to the same school before you got sent away. Really think. Don’t you remember him at all?”
He’s right. I remember the feelings of déjà vu I keep getting every now and again. I think. I think hard, combing through memories I would’ve just as soon have forgotten forever. Brock, in my past. Was he there? In school? I hate thinking back to those days and all the boys who made fun of me and laughed, yet would stand in line to buy kisses—
And that’s when it hits me. The dark-haired boy. Standing against the wall, watching me. Staring. And how I cried because it was him I wanted to be kissing, not the poor fat boy in front of me. How ashamed I suddenly felt, knowing he was watching as I sold my kisses out of the sort of desperation only hunger can inspire.
“My God,” I whisper, suddenly seeing everything in a different light.
“I guess you made a strong impression,” Mark observes with a wry grin. “He’s been crazy about you ever since those days, even though you disappeared. Maybe because you did, I don’t know. He’s never been able to get you out of his head. He always wondered what happened to you. When he saw you again, he had to find a way to keep you with him. So, he pretended to need you to show up Charlotte. That’s all. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you.”
I can hardly believe it. My heart’s racing to the point where even breathing is a struggle. “Tell me—you’re serious. Please.”
“I’m serious. Which is why I’m sure what happened up there with Charlotte is a mistake. If I know her, she set it all up. Go to him. He’s probably out of his mind by now, trying to figure out where you ran off to.”
And I do, but only after I throw my arms around Mark’s neck and squeeze as tight as I can. “Thank you.”
“You want to thank me?” He laughs. “Defend me when he threatens to kick my ass for outing him like this.”
Chapter 34
Dani
Brock is at the front desk when I race through the doors. I can hear his voice, raised over the general buzz of activity in the lobby.<
br />
“Nobody here saw where she went? You want me to believe you all happened to be looking the other way at the same moment in time? Is that the sort of fool you take me for?”
“Nobody takes you for a fool,” the anxious concierge insists. He glances over Brock’s shoulder and the sight of me makes his eyes light up in sheer relief. “Here she is, sir.”
Brock spins, eyes wide.
I see him now. I really see him. He’s more than just the dominating, self-assured control freak. He’s out of his mind with worry about me. He thought I might have run off for good. He brought me here for himself. Granted, he could’ve just been honest with me that first night, back at his penthouse and saved himself a lot of money in the process.
“You’re here.” He looks me up and down, eyes darting back and forth as though he’s checking for signs of damage.
It makes my heart go out to him in a way it never has before. “I’m here. And I think we need to talk.”
“We definitely do.” He leads me to the elevators. I catch sight of the concierge leaning against the counter with a sigh of relief. We don’t say another word until we’re back in the suite. The empty suite. Charlotte is long gone, thank goodness.
“You left before I had the chance to explain.” He folds his arms.
Now, I notice for the first time how disheveled he looks. His polo isn’t even tucked in. The collar is askew. I want to reach out and fix it for him, but I hold back. “I know, I should have waited and given you a chance to explain, but you have to look at it from my point-of-view. Would you wait around in the same room with that—that—person?” I gesture toward the bedroom and the empty bed.
He gets the hint. “You’ve got to know I had nothing to do with her being in my bed,” he says, and sits on the sofa.
I do the same, leaving space between us. We’re not out of the woods yet. I’m not ready to climb into his lap. “What happened?”
The Promise Page 28
