Chapter 12
Emma
T hat asshole stole my fruit tray. Miles’s audacity and the whiplash he gave me kept me up half the night analyzing a man who’s both an issue and an equation I can’t solve. I’m not in the habit of dwelling on people or situations that lack significance in my life, but a woman has her limits, and fucking with my snacks is high on the list.
Miles surprised me with the compassion he showed last night after Carter’s unexpected drop-in. I can take care of myself, but I didn’t mind someone having my back for once, someone other than Justice. He was a quiet anchor opposite me in the booth, holding space for me to handle Carter while also having zero tolerance for his disrespect.
The “my man” declaration left us both confused. It was a slip that escaped my lips without effort, and I didn’t register it until it stood proud for all to see. I don’t claim men, but dare I say the words felt right in the moment? Miles wouldn’t call me out for seeking a lifeline. He’s a dick at times, but he’s not an asshole like Carter, who’d relish in my downfall before dangling it over my head and pretending to care. Miles doesn’t owe me anything, but he had my back. He’s...a surprise I didn’t expect.
The same sensation that kneaded between my ribs at Justice and Terrence’s reconciliation squeezed and tugged last night at the seductive scent beyond the door that separated me and Miles’s rooms. I swallowed back drool at the Adonis before me, in a white towel hugging his waist and the water droplets clinging to his chest.
Until he took one look at me and barked at me to go to bed.
“Em, did you hear me?”
“Sorry, what?”
Justice tilts her head, her worry lines on high alert. “I’m staying in.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
“I should. We haven’t spent much time together on this trip since—”
“Since you and your man started coating the hotel sheets in bodily fluids?” I smirk at her blush. “No apologies necessary, Jay. Are you happy?”
Tears well at the smile pursing her mouth. My friend is in love and will never not cry about it. “Yeah.”
“Then by all means, reclaim your time and that dick.”
Our cackling bounces across the chandelier and down the four-poster bed in her room. I wouldn’t resurface for most of the trip if someone laid good pipe for me to put up an “Under Construction” sign, either. Justice has never once judged me for my vacation escapades, and I refuse to give her shit for hers.
She deserves to live her fairy tale out loud.
“Are you sure, Em?” Trepid eyes search my reaction with a selflessness I’ve admired for years.
“Yes, but—”
“And were there times I did my own disappearing act without apology?”
Her answer is a small nod.
“I’m okay, Jay. I’ll always be good.”
“Okay,” she says softly and reaches for a hug. Her and her Hallmark ways. “You know I—got it, sorry!” She pretends to lock her lips to hold in the apology she’s itching to give. “Where are you off to tonight?”
I turn away to fiddle with the knot in my silk robe. “Dinner. Nothing fancy.”
Minus the private jet.
A squeal too enthusiastic for this conversation rings in my ear. “That’s right! How was last night’s date? Did you match with the person you wanted?”
Did I.
“It was a surprise,” I say with caution.
“Uh, what was that?”
“What was what?” The tips of my finger graze the side of my face, careful not to disturb the curly updo that took an hour to pin.
Justice’s brow hikes. “That expression. You already said you like a man here.”
“I said I was unsettled.”
“Same difference.”
Nope, not doing this . I hop up from the wingback chair with an eye roll. “Your little black dress is cutting off circulation to your common sense.”
The breath I’m holding burns my throat. If Justice suspects something is off, we’ll spend the next four hours dissecting feelings I don’t have for a certain fruit-stealing penis wrinkle. What is there to talk about? Miles and I messed around. We might have sex. It’s not breaking news, but if Jay is this giddy about the prospect of something more, I’ll take this to my grave. Damn those Hallmark movies, for real.
“Don’t you have a man to let down?”
Justice is meeting with Preston, and Terrence is meeting with Madison to tell each of them about their reconciliation.
Time drags on through silent looks until my cell vibrates in my pocket. Justice nods to it with a smirk. “You should get that.”
I sigh and pull it out. “It’s not a big deal.”
The butterflies in my stomach still at the message from Carter, reminding me to meet him in the lobby in ten minutes. My hair and makeup are done. All that’s missing is the floor-length gown hanging on my door, the one I brought in case of a special occasion or emergency.
I don’t bother with a response. After his stunt last night, he can stay on read. I know when to be downstairs. The question is, will Miles? I haven’t seen or heard from him since yesterday, and I don’t have his number to ask if he plans on showing up. Justice does, but then I’d have to explain why I need it, and Detective Nosy is already eyeing me with a toothy grin.
“It’s him, isn’t it? The man.”
“This conversation is over,” I say in a huff over my shoulder on the way to my room.
We really did luck out with our suite.
The palette of linens and shades of gray against hardwood flooring and the backdrop of the valley next to the fireplace are reason enough for Justice and Terrence to hole up in here.
I swipe the dress off the French door and toss my phone on the bed. Justice plops next to it like she has nowhere to be. I figured she wouldn’t let up, but damn. “My father requested I attend one of his fundraiser dinners.” The robe pools at my feet, revealing my low-slung black thong bodysuit. Changing in front of each other has never been an issue since Justice and I started doing it in high school. “I’ll be back later tonight.”
“That could be fun. You love good champagne, and maybe you’ll bag a congressperson,” Justice says with a smile even she doesn’t believe in. I’m in store for a night of highbrow cuisine and stuck-up politicians who feed off each other’s bullshit. The perfect way to spend a Saturday night.
The straps of my black dress settle in place. The slit is high on my thigh but not high enough for my mother to lose a pearl over the “indecency.” I step into the bathroom for a final look.
“Who’s picking you up? I know it’s not your daddy,” Justice calls from the room. She’s been around long enough to notice him missing in action. I spend more time with her family than my own.
My stomach grumbles. “Carter.” I step back into the room to catch her teasing grin.
Justice’s hands lift in surrender. “I’m not saying anything, except”—here we go—“you two have chemistry and years’ worth of pent-up sexual tension. I get he’s—”
“A self-absorbed asshole.”
“But maybe he’ll change his tune if he knows he has a real shot with you.”
Peel away Carter’s looks and conquerer mentality, and you have a man I can’t stand pretty much every day of the week. On paper, we work. Beyond that, I’d speed up to the “until death do us part.”
“Don’t hold your breath, sweetie. Enjoy your night, and good luck.”
She stands for another hug. “You too. Have fun.”
The elevator opens to a casual flow of hotel guests shuffling between the front desk and the restaurant bar. Singles’ retreat activities have wrapped for the week, leaving the option to pack up and head home or enjoy the grounds for one more day. I chose the latter for this trip, to get us home on Monday instead of Sunday. A four-day work week after vacation is simply nonnegotiable.
Carter stands next to one of the fireplaces near the entrance, earning every bit of the Grey’s Anatomy nickname Justice gave him. His black dress coat hits his calves and matches his classic tuxedo and leather shoes.
Blue-green eyes lift from his phone in a slow drag up my champagne platform heels to the wrap coat belted around my frame. The collar hides the plunging neckline of my dress, but Carter stares like he sees through the fabric.
He takes a step toward me and reaches for my hand. “You look amazing.” Soft lips ignite shivers when they press to my skin. My inhale isn’t sharp, but he catches it in his gaze that has yet to leave mine. “Where is your man ?” His voice carries a bitter edge.
“He’ll be here.”
He better.
A low rumble of laughter builds in his clean-shaven throat. “We’ll see.”
Time is many things, but it’s not a liar. By six thirty, Carter is ushering me to the car to head to the airport, leaving Miles wherever he chose to be instead of here with me.
“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Davis?” The flight attendant all but purrs in his face with a stare that makes it clear she’s more than okay getting bent over at cruising altitude. This is her third check-in. Our trip isn’t long enough for this level of customer service.
Carter leans back and sips the bourbon she poured him two minutes ago. He flashes a grin in appraisal of her slender body in a navy dress as she leans and juts her breasts in his face.
If it were anyone else, I’d say, “Get yours!” and mind my business. But I don’t need the visual of Carter pushing her onto her knees seared into my brain. I’m horny as it is and pissed I’m heading towards a good-dick dry spell, and I got stood up tonight.
Was ghosting Miles’s only option? I still don’t know what had him so angry last night, but it couldn’t have been bad enough that he didn’t slip a note under the door or leave one at the front desk. Something .
We’re not friends, but I expected better.
“No updates?”
Two men might get smacked tonight, starting with the one in the seat across from me showing his ass and a full set of perfect white teeth. A considerate human being wouldn’t gloat at another’s pain—but that’s not Carter. He enjoys watching me squirm, especially after I claimed a man I waited around to show but never did.
I shoot him a hostile glare and toss my phone into my clutch. Why am I looking for texts like Miles has my number? “I told you the last time you asked, something came up.”
Now I’m lying for him. Great.
Carter drops his elbows to his thighs and leans forward with narrowed eyes. “Know what I think? I think you wanted to save face in front of your parents and picked the first bum—”
“Bum?” Miles is many things, but a bum isn’t one of them.
“Bum, Emma.” His scowl deepens. “You and I come from a different circle. Someone like that isn’t fit to be on your arm and will disappoint you every time.”
I fold my arms, annoyed that this flight is taking its sweet time. “Enlighten me, oh wise one. Who’s fit to be on my arm?”
Carter’s gestures to himself, and it takes everything in me not to laugh in his face. Impatience seeps into features I once fawned over. “Em,” he sighs. “We could rule Washington if you knew what was good for you.”
“Wow.” I choke out a laugh and lean toward the aisle to find where the flight attendant went. “Let me get you someone who will entertain this nonsense.”
“I’m serious, Emma.”
“No, I’m serious, Carter,” I snap. “You seem to be under the delusion that I need to be on a man’s arm to unlock a new level I don’t have a key for my damn self. Save your I Have a Dream speech for someone else.”
The words I uttered last night slide into memory. I shake my head for calling Miles “my man” like I’m not strong enough to stand on my own. The disappointment cuts deep, at myself for pretending to have a man in the first place, and at Miles for ignoring me so effortlessly.
To hell with him and Carter.
The ten-minute ride to the hotel was silent after I stormed off the plane ready to battle whoever else wanted some. Carter rightfully chose to shut the hell up, opening the door to our limo and sneaking glances when he thought it was safe. Tonight isn’t the first time we went at it, and it won’t be the last.
I check my coat and proceed down the red carpet with the fakest smile for photographers. Carter guides me into the crowded ballroom with a hand on the small of my back. Steel blue and gray lights streak across campaign donors and career politicians swarming white linen tables and bars stationed around dark hardwood flooring under the gleam of chandeliers.
My father spares no expense with his fundraisers or the chance to plaster his face on every wall within a mile radius.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say over my shoulder. I march in with my head high and enough anger in my veins to hold a lifetime of grudges.
My parents are nowhere in sight, but a congressperson close to my father comes into view alongside a man molded to his tux.
“Emma! So nice to see you.” Congressperson Daniels pats his companion’s shoulders with a broad smile. “Allow me to introduce you to someone.”
I clamp my jaw tight and stare.
Son of a bitch.