Chapter 37 Nico
THIRTY-SEVEN
NICO
I want to run after Scarlett the second she disappears from my sight.
Not that I would know what to say if I caught up to her. I’m still confused and hurt and terrified of the idea that I may have been played.
But my heart doesn’t understand any of that. All it knows is that I hate the sight of Scarlett walking away from me.
I take one step after her, stop, then take another.
Fuck it.
Uncaring about the people I bump into, I bolt after her. She’s in heels and in need of a ride; she shouldn’t be hard to catch up to. I just need to talk to her, beg her to make sense of the mess of thoughts in my head. I’m sure we can figure it out. We just need—
I explode onto the front steps, breathing too heavily. My eyes dart around, looking desperately for Scarlett’s blonde hair or gold dress. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world; she should be stopping traffic everywhere.
She’s nowhere to be found.
I let out a muttered curse and look back at the gala’s entryway. Did I pass her?
Twenty minutes later, I’ve reached the conclusion that she’s disappeared.
Also, that I am completely fucked.
Because now that she’s out of my sight, I have no way of finding her. Beyond sending her three texts—that go unanswered—I have no idea where she lives or where she might go.
With another bitten-off curse, I spin toward the bar and order a double whiskey. I have no idea what to do from here.
When Lucas finds me an hour later, I’m sufficiently drunk.
“Whoa,” I hear his voice from behind me. “What the fuck did I miss?”
I lift my glass toward him with a crooked smile. “Nothing. Your timing is perfect. I was just about to take this shot.” I wave at the bartender. “Can I get one more for my brother, pretty please?”
“Uh, actually…” Lucas takes the glass from my hand, and I send him a glare. He waves the bartender off and says, “Just a water, when you get a chance.”
“Spoilsport,” I grumble. But my head is already starting to spin, so I don’t have the energy to argue.
“I’ll repeat my question, Nico. What did I miss? What happened to you?” He looks around in alarm. “Did something go wrong with the sponsor?”
I snort, the pounding in my head increasing tenfold. “You mean the sponsor who’s seen my girlfriend naked?”
At that, his eyes widen. “Him and Scarlett?”
I tip my imaginary hat. “That would be the one.”
Lucas mutters a curse of his own and throws the shot back.
“Exactly what I said,” I mutter with a groan.
“Wait a minute. How did that even come up?”
I scoff. “If you’re asking from a business standpoint, don’t worry. The sponsorship is still intact. They’re sending it over in the morning for you to review.”
“I’m not asking because of that,” Lucas snaps, exasperated. “I’m just trying to figure out what you’re dealing with. Was Scarlett here?”
I can only nod miserably.
“So, you brought Scarlett as your date and the sponsor recognized her. And then what?”
I stare at him in shock. “What do you mean, then what? He was her client!”
Lucas’s expression shifts to confusion. “So? You knew she was an escort.”
“It’s not just— Forget it, you wouldn’t understand.” I chug half of my water. “You hated that I was with her anyway.”
He sighs. “Nico, I didn’t hate that you were with her. I was just worried she was playing you.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Welp. Turns out, you were spot on.”
Lucas’s brow furrows as he spins the whiskey glass between his fingers. “It doesn’t make any sense. I saw you two together. That girl was smitten with you.”
I let out a drunk hiccup as I stand. “Well, that’s just where we are. I’m going to get out of here.”
“Where are you staying? You’re not going home, are you?”
I freeze as I’m pulling a few bills out to tip the bartender. Shit, I had planned to stay at Scarlett’s tonight.
Lucas sighs. “Alright, let’s just go back to my hotel. You can sleep this off and then figure out how to have an actual conversation with Scarlett tomorrow.”
“She won’t return my texts,” I mumble. “And I have no idea where she lives.”
He slaps me on the back and starts to lead me toward the exit.
“Lucky for you, I’m a problem solver.”
I wake up with the hangover from hell.
Groaning, I roll onto my back. Unsurprisingly, Lucas put me on the couch last night after I raided the mini bar in his room.
“Morning, sunshine,” I hear him call out from the kitchen area. “Sleep well?”
I can only summon the energy to flip him off in answer.
But it isn’t until I blink open my eyes and spot my suit draped across the nearby chair that all the memories from last night come flooding back.
Scarlett, looking like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Meeting one of her clients face to face.
Finding out I’ve been played by the woman I had fallen for.
Suddenly, I want to puke for more than just alcohol reasons.
Lucas’s sympathetic look distantly registers as I bolt for the bathroom. As I heave the entire liquid contents of my stomach into the toilet, I can’t help remembering the last time I watched someone vomit all night long.
Once my stomach is empty, I collapse back onto the cold bathroom tile with a pained breath.
How did I let things get this fucked up?
I thought I’d been getting through to her, peeling back her layers by giving her a safe environment to do so. How had I been so wrong?
I need to talk to her.
It’s the only thing I can think of as I drag myself back to the hotel room. Confusion or not—heartbreak or not—I want to hear the truth from Scarlett’s lips. I just need to figure out how to find her.
When I stop in the kitchen and reach for the coffee machine, Lucas is giving me a blank look. I merely quirk an eyebrow at him in question.
“So…weird thing happened this morning,” he starts. “Your accountant called me.”
I finish pouring out the coffee and spin toward him with a snort. “Why? Did he assume I’ve been robbed because a hooker sweet-talked me out of a ridiculous amount of money?”
I still can’t read the look he gives me, but he’s not amused. “Not exactly.”
And then he spins his laptop toward me.
I take a sip of coffee before moving closer. Squinting, I try to make sense of the numbers on the screen.
“Fifteen thousand? What’s that charge for?”
“It’s not a charge, Nico,” Lucas says carefully.
When I look closer, I realize he’s right.
It’s a deposit.
“Who—? Wait, is that from a sponsor? I didn’t think—”
And then I see the note beside it.
And my stomach falls straight through the floor.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to give and receive affection without a dollar sign, but for now, this is where I’m at.
Thank you for being patient with me these past few weeks; I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.
I held onto your money because it never felt right to use it.
In hindsight, it was because I always knew my feelings for you were real.
So, I’d like to give it all back, in the off chance that yours are real, too.
I’m so excited to see you at the gala tonight.
xoxo
Scarlett
I think I start to hyperventilate. I get dizzy as soon as I straighten, and I have to grab the back of the kitchen chair to steady myself.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.
There’s only one reason Scarlett would give back all the money I spent on her.
“I’m a goddamn idiot,” I breathe.
Lucas leans back in his chair as he studies me. “It would look that way, yes.”
I don’t even have the energy to smack him for the comment. I just turn my attention to him with slack-jawed shock.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” I ask, my tone pleading. “She was planning to give all the money back, and I—”
Christ. I made her feel like a money-hungry prostitute.
“I need to go see her.” Suddenly, everything feels urgent. I can’t let Scarlett spend another second thinking I don’t see her as the most incredible woman in the world. That I always felt that way, and that I just got really fucking scared and stupid for a second.
I go to pull my shirt on, but with that motion I get a whiff of my own booze and misery-fueled stench. When I wince and drop the shirt, the pause in my panic brings a big dose of reality to the moment.
I collapse onto the couch in defeat. “I have no idea where she lives.”
Lucas rolls his eyes at that. “I told you, I already solved that problem. Go shower before you make the poor girl pass out from your stench.”
My brow furrows. “You solved that problem? What does that mean?”
He lets out an exasperated sigh and leans back in his chair. “It means I have a private investigator on my payroll, and I asked him to find Scarlett’s address.”
I gape at him. “You what?”
“What, so doing a google search is immoral, but hiring an escort isn’t? Pick your battles, little brother.”
It only takes one reminder of Scarlett’s face as she walked off last night to make my decision.
“Send me the address.”