Chapter 2
AN AFFAIR TO FORGET
Alistair
“Do you love me?” Erin murmured, penetrating my sleep with her hand on my cock. “Tell me, Scotty. Do you remember when we were college kids?”
Did I remember? Fuck, yeah. I stood up from the hotel bed and stretched my sore back. “College was a lifetime ago,” I muttered, glancing at the nude woman on the mattress.
Erin was fucking beautiful, and I was a bastard… a bloody bastard.
“Tell me you love me, won’t you, Scotty?” she begged. There it was. Her demanding pout.
Shaking my head, I replied, “Last night should never have happened.”
Nothing beats the sting of waking up with a woman I couldn’t have. Reality smacked my hangover hard. Erin Everton-Scott was my brother’s wife.
The brunette’s crestfallen face tilted up at me. Loose teardrops rolled down her rosy cheeks as she touched my palm. “You once said you loved me.”
I shook her hand off mine and stared at the minibar fridge. It was nine a.m., and I could use a cold beer to drown my guilt. I frowned, resisting temptation after glancing at an empty Moet & Chandon bottle. It was evidence of our affair.
“We were lovers before you married Saira Quinn.” Erin’s voice quivered as her tears kept running.
“That was eleven years ago. I’m a divorced father in a custody battle for Damian now.”
“Your son. He should have been ours.”
“It is what it is.” I sighed, remembering why I wedded the daughter of my dad’s former business partner. “I had to marry Saira. She was pregnant with my son.”
“You broke my heart,” Erin whispered. “That was why I left town all those years ago.”
Sometimes I wondered if fate was just screwing with me… like when Erin suddenly resurfaced, all smiles and glowing with Oliver at that family party, matching wedding bands on display. She looked better than ever. And I couldn’t help myself.
I took what I wanted.
Even if it meant taking my brother’s wife.
Welcome to the Scott family. Lester Harbor’s oil kings, property tycoons… at least that’s what everyone saw. In reality? We ran the city by day, wrecked each other by night.
I raked a hand through my tangled hair and scrubbed my jaw, the rough stubble catching on my palm. “Oliver trusts us, and we blew it,” I said, grabbing my phone off the mahogany nightstand.
Erin sat on the edge of the bed, eyes rimmed red.
“I’m heading out for a run.” I pulled an old T-shirt and sweats from my bag, ignoring her stare as I got dressed. Her gaze lingered on my torso, but I didn’t give her anything back.
“We’ve still got a few hours before Oliver’s flight lands,” she tried, voice shaky.
I didn’t look at her. “We’re checking out after I shower. I have work to do.”
“On a Saturday?” She sounded small.
“Business doesn’t care what day it is. I’ve got contracts waiting.” My words were clipped, leaving no room for an argument.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I married your brother just to get close to you. Running off with Oliver was the only way I could see you. Your parents never wanted me with you.”
I let the words hang, jaw clenched. “That’s on you, Erin. You used him. We both screwed up. It ends now.”
She stared at me, fury flashing through the heartbreak. “You pig.”
I left her like that… alone in a hotel room, still clinging to someone else’s ring.
I needed to shake off the guilt, but a run wouldn’t cut it. Erin was gorgeous, sure, but whatever I’d felt for her was long gone. I’d already wasted enough time on the past. It was time to let go and move forward.
Friday, April 8
“Scotty?” A syrupy voice floated through the door, followed by two lazy knocks.
I groaned, squinting against sunlight screaming through the yacht’s windows. Artemis was rocking gently. “No,” I muttered, burying my face deeper in the pillow.
“Won’t you join us on deck?” Teresa… maybe Tanya… tried again, her whine scraping the edges of patience. Playboy model, perfect tits, sweet on the tongue, but not a woman I’d ever let carry my last name.
“No, you and the girls go and have fun,” I yelled at the door.
“Okay, Scotty. We hope you’ll change your mind,” Teresa sang.
I rolled over, let my body sprawl in clean sheets. After a night like last, the only thing I wanted was distance. Emotional intimacy had no place here. Teresa and her crew crashed next door in the guest suite. Each would leave with Cartier, roses, and a stack of NDAs, my assistant’s specialty.
I stood, stretching naked, and flicked on the radio. Aretha’s voice filled the space with “Respect” as I grabbed my phone and scrolled through Lester Harbor Daily’s latest drama.
One photo stopped me. Yeah, that was me, shirtless on Artemis, three topless models at my side. Tabloid gold.
Billionaire ‘Scotty’ parties with Playboy models on his luxury yacht.
Hashtags and envy in the comments. But the next shot made me freeze.
That smile… full wattage, caramel hair, brown eyes with attitude. Her face was pure Marilyn with a JD. Lester Harbor’s rising legal eagle: Vera Richland, magna cum laude, Hunting & McCormick. Nothing trashy about her. She was confidence in heels, the kind of woman who made suits look like lingerie.
I grinned. Hunting & McCormick. Brenton McCormick and I went back. He owed me.
I hit call. Two rings.
“Scotty, it’s been a while. How are you, old sport?” Brenton, always a Gatsby wannabe, but a loyal friend.
“Never better.” I watched the sun spill over the water. “You still owe me for the Romanovsky deal.”
“That’s what friends are for. What’s up?”
“Heard you hired a new lawyer, Vera. What’s her story?”
He chuckled, loud as a foghorn. “We’re expanding. Rented one of your buildings downtown.”
“Perfect. Let’s do lunch next Tuesday. I want to meet her.”
He hesitated. “Vera’s… not your usual type. She’s smart. Stubborn.”
“Even better.” I smiled. “Noon, your office?”
He caved. “I’ll clear my schedule.”
We hung up. Game on.
Just as I set the phone down, Erin’s name flashed across the screen.
Another knock at the door. I turned off the phone, opened the door, and let three bare-breasted women sweep in… wine bottles, weed, and hungry smiles. One dropped to her knees, mouth hot around my cock.
For the next hour, I let myself forget everything except the pleasure. Vera could wait.