Chapter 8
Lily
Ican’t breathe.
That was what Brady did to me. He made it impossible for me to draw in any air. Or if there was some already in my lungs, I couldn’t release it.
My body froze.
My mind became this giant game of dodgeball, where I was constantly ducking every thought and emotion thrown my way.
I didn’t understand it.
I just knew that when his arms were around me, it felt as though nothing could ever get through. That cave between his hands and chest was the safest place ever.
Just him and me.
But the reality was, that was far from the truth.
Maybe with other women, that was possible.
Not with me.
That admittance was what took hold of me as I left my room and went down to the hotel lobby. The resort was beautiful, directly on the water, backed up to a marina. The front-desk clerk, when I’d checked in to the hotel with the pilots, told us we were in the Channelside section of Tampa. A quick search on my phone showed the list of bars and restaurants in the area. Every cuisine I could ever crave was nearby, along with outdoor and indoor bars, live music, and lots of walking paths and parks.
I had the next couple of days off, and for tonight, I planned on finding a spot outside, in an area that was well suited for people-watching, where I could order a drink and take in the scenery. But first, I wanted to wander. I wanted to cruise the boardwalk by the marina and check out the boats and smell the salty air. I wanted to meander under the bridges and experience a water taxi and have some ice cream and admire the windows of the shops.
As I reached the revolving door that separated the lobby from the street, there was a vibration in my purse.
A rattle that was as startling as a fire alarm.
I reached inside the small bag and pulled out my cell. As I read the words on the screen, my feet halted.
My free hand clenched into a fist.
My teeth ground together, my jaw locking, an instant headache splitting my skull.
Why?
Why?!
A word I found myself internally screaming so many times per day.
I looked at the sidewalk through the glass, craving the city I’d been excited to explore—the humid air, the scents, all goading me.
But I wasn’t stepping out.
I was going back to my room.
I turned around and stopped at the store inside the lobby, robotically going over to the shelves that housed the alcohol to grab a bottle of vodka that I brought up to the register.
“There are mixers over there”—the woman behind the counter pointed to the opposite side of the store—“if you’re looking for some cranberry or orange juice or even tonic.”
“No need.” I kept my eyes on the clear liquid inside the glass. “I want it straight up.”
“I like the way you drink.”
I handed her enough cash that would cover the transaction and walked to the elevator, glancing behind me before I stepped inside. I leaned on the side wall prior to hitting the button for my floor. And I stared at the top of the bottle as the door opened, checking the space outside, and then I quickly made my way to my room.
When is this going to end?
A sentence I repeated every day as well.
Not just daily though.
Several times a fucking day.
And I never had an answer.
I tossed my bag on the desk and kicked my shoes off, closing the curtains and turning off the lamps. When the room was dark, I grabbed one of the glasses off the counter and carried it with the bottle into bed, pouring enough into the cup that I wouldn’t have to constantly refill it.
I exhaled the air I’d been holding in and pressed my back against the headboard. My feet dived into the mattress, heels pushing as hard as they could kick. With my eyes closed, I tapped the back of my head against the fabric-covered headboard, the cushion preventing the banging from hurting.
By accident, my eyes opened toward the large rectangular windows.
I immediately regretted it.
Because I knew the view outside. I’d been admiring it for the last few hours. Now, it was blocked by the thick, heavy shade, where a small rim of light seeped out from the perimeter along each side. It wasn’t sunlight; it was long past sunset. It was light from the adjacent buildings and the liveliness of Tampa.
It was a tease.
The sound of my phone caused my eyes to flick open, and I reached for my cell on the pillow next to me, checking the caller ID. I blinked a few times to make sure I was seeing the name correctly and connected the call.
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Aubrey asked.
“It’s okay.” I rubbed my eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What time is it there?” She paused. “A little past eleven, and you’re already asleep? On your night off? You’re worse than me, and I have a newborn.”
“I went out earlier.” I pushed myself toward the headboard, dragging the blanket up to my chest. The lie made me feel less pathetic even though I hated giving her one. “I had too many proseccos and tucked myself in.” I glanced toward the bottle of vodka that was two glasses lower than when I’d bought it. “How are you? How’s the baby?” I cleared my throat, trying to sound more awake.
“Colicky. I’m honestly wondering at this point if there’s a way I can push him back inside of me. At least when he was cooking in my oven, I could sleep for increments longer than twenty minutes, and no one aside from me was screaming all day long.” She sighed. “How’s Tampa? How’re the Daltons? How’s life without a baby crying twenty-four/seven?”
“Everything and everyone are great.” It occurred to me just then that if Brady frequently traveled with Dominick or one of the other Daltons, Aubrey could know him. “There was an interesting guy on board today. Brady Spade. Do you know him?”
“Do I know him?” She laughed. “I know him and his two brothers, Macon and Cooper, they’ve been friends with the Daltons for as long as I’ve worked for them.”
My thumb instinctively went into my mouth, where I chewed the skin off the corner. “What can you tell me about him?”
She laughed again. “Do I sense a crush?”
“No.”
“A visual crush?”
I filled my lungs, surprised that I could breathe, given the topic of our conversation. “He’s undeniably handsome.”
“That he is and very, very single as well. He’s the only Spade brother who hasn’t yet settled down. I’ve met Macon’s girlfriend and Cooper’s girlfriend—both are lovely.”
“But you’ve never met anyone Brady has dated or someone he’s brought on a trip?”
“You must not keep up with the LA gossip sites. The Spades and Daltons and Westons—another set of their friends—are constantly discussed, and Brady’s love life is a hot topic.”
“The only people I know in LA, aside from the pilots, are you and the Daltons.” I crossed my legs under the blanket. “It wouldn’t make sense for me to keep up with the gossip—I wouldn’t know anyone they’re talking about.”
Now that I knew Brady was a conversation piece, maybe I needed to check out those sites.
But why?
Did it even matter what they said about him?
If anything, that was even more of a reason why I needed to keep my thoughts far away from him.
“Well then, let me fill you in. Miraculously, the baby is down, which means I have approximately ten minutes before all you hear is screams.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper. “Brady Spade is quite the ladies’ man. But he’s never photographed with one on his arm, and he always attends events alone because he’s not even willing to commit for a couple of hours, long enough to take one to a gala or an opening—can you even imagine?”
I couldn’t imagine anything at the moment, and it wasn’t the vodka’s fault.
“Anyway,” she continued, “he’s seen around town with women—at concerts, restaurants, sporting events, just nothing major where there will be photographers. As for personality, he and his brothers are nothing alike. Macon is the bubbly, kindhearted one. Cooper is much more to the point and charming. Brady has the attitude of a lion. He’s not rude; he’s just extremely domineering and impatient and fearless. Fearless in a way where he knows what he wants and he’s unafraid to go after it.”
Nothing she’d said surprised me. That was precisely the way I’d suspected him to be.
“He’s not going to give you the warm fuzzies,” she went on. “Unless your idea of warm fuzzies is getting ravaged against a wall, after which it’ll probably take a few days before you’re walking straight again.” She giggled. “If that’s your thing, then that’s your man.”
“He’s not my man.”
He couldn’t be.
But I certainly knew that what she’d described was his thing.
And after experiencing him, I knew that was my thing too.
“You know what I mean.” She giggled. “They’re honestly a wonderful family. I can’t say a bad word about them. Respectful, mature, and it seems they really must have a good head on their shoulders because they’re running an empire.”
“Spade Hotels. That is an empire.”
“Cole and Spade Hotels now since the merger, making their company even larger than it already was. I wouldn’t hate waking up with that much money in my bank account. How about you?”
Money had never been my motivation as a kid or an adult. I just wanted to do what would make me happy. Even when my parents died and I inherited their house and savings, I didn’t spend any of it. I earned my own money and didn’t need theirs.
And what I’d earned and what I’d inherited hadn’t brought me happiness.
Because even though I was financially comfortable, happiness was an emotion I hardly ever felt.
But I’d felt it with Brady.
Aubrey didn’t know that side of me.
No one did.
“Hey, Aubrey, do you know?—”
My voice cut off at the sound of a knock on my door. Knuckles hitting three consecutive times in a row from a hand that had strength and power.
The pilots would have texted me if they needed something. Plus, they didn’t know what room I was in.
That only left one other person it could be.
Oh God.
Every hair on my body was now standing straight.
My heart pounded so hard I swore it was going to come through my skin. My flesh went from cold to hot to cold again.
My mouth turned dry.
“Aubrey, I’ve got to call you back.”
“If I don’t answer, it’s because the baby?—”
A second set of knocks rapped against my door, and I pulled the phone away from my face and disconnected the call.