2. Maddison #2
I take a breath, but where to begin? And how much to reveal?
I won’t give names. My engagement to Barrett Emerson hadn’t been made public, but his name alone makes what happened today newsworthy.
That doesn’t mean it’s not my story to tell.
And since I’m going to own it, I might as well embellish it just a little.
I need to turn what was a cold business deal into something more palatable.
“It was my brother who introduced us,” I say, beginning with a truth.
“They’re both successful businessmen and they move in the same circles.
” This is the first exaggeration. Barrett is undoubtedly successful, even if it does appear he sold his soul to get where he is, but as for my brother…
he can only dream of reaching the Emerson’s level of wealth, something I know he does, often.
“So, are we talking brother’s best friend?” asks Melissa. “It’s one of my favorite book tropes.”
I lift my shot glass in cheers. I like this girl.
“I think we read the same novels,” I say, “but as I’m sure you know, real-life men infrequently live up to the fantasy.
It turns out, my fiancé is no-one’s friend.
He made promises he didn’t intend to keep.
Something I didn’t find out until today, when I was standing at the altar, ready to make my vows. ”
As I knock back the second shot, I notice movement in my periphery. The bar isn’t busy and I’d already spotted the guy in the wrinkled suit sitting in a booth when I arrived. He slides onto a bar stool near enough to feel too close.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing,” he explains. To Melissa, he adds, “Put her next drink on my tab.”
My new friend and I simply stare at him.
“Please ladies,” he begs. “I’m just someone else who wants to hear what brought a beau–” He pauses when he notices me bristle.
“Sorry, again. I’m not trying to make a move on you, I promise.
I just want to hear your story. And the server gets to pour your drinks directly.
I’m not some weirdo aiming to spike your drink or take advantage. I’ll stay here and keep quiet. ”
“You want to pay to just listen?” Melissa asks with a heavy dose of cynicism.
“I want to help,” he answers. He takes a swig from his beer bottle, then shrugs. “OK, what can I say? I’m alone on a boring-as-hell business trip and I’m a good listener.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I feel the gentle buzz of the alcohol in my system. I waft a hand at him and turn to give Melissa my undivided attention. “Let him listen,” I say, pointing to my shot glass for a refill.
“Is there anything else I can get you now that our friend is paying?” she asks, glancing to our eavesdropper. He nods.
“How about a room for the night?” I say too quickly. It’s only when I see his eyes light up that I realize my mistake. “Jesus, not like that. I need somewhere to stay. I don’t want to go home tonight.”
The man shrugs. “I’m sure we could come to some arrangement,” he says. “And Melissa, I believe the lady wanted another drink.”
“Actually, make it a coffee,” I say. The last thing I need is a drunken mistake tonight.
I adjust my dress around the bar stool and press a hand to my heavily corseted waist. At least no one can come near me in this thing, but while I have it on, maneuvering is going to be difficult.
I should probably limit my liquids, but I do need something to help me think my way out of this situation.
“Actually, make it a shot of espresso. A double would be good.”
Melissa leans closer. “If the reason you’re keeping to shots is what I think it is, then don’t worry.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she adds, “If you need assistance getting to the bathroom, I can help.”
“Honestly, I could hug you,” I say, choking up. It’s ridiculous how her simple offer has me on the verge of tears.
Melissa gives me a wink before turning away. As I watch her make my coffee, I press a hand to my cheek and trace the salty trail of the single tear I’d let fall earlier. Cruelty and betrayal hadn’t been enough to make me cry. Kindness on the other hand… I blink away my tears.
“Come on, then,” Melissa says as the coffee machine grinds the beans. “We need more details. What made you realize you were marrying a douchebag at the very last minute?”
“You know that point in the service where the pastor asks if someone wants to object? Well, someone objected,’ I say as an image of Hunter forms in my mind.
Melissa sets down my espresso and peers at me. “Oh. My. God. Please, say it was another man,” she begs. My expression must give me away because her mouth gapes. “It was, wasn’t it?”
Ignoring the coffee, I reach for the dregs of whiskey in my glass and knock it back. The heat goes straight down my spine to my… “I don’t know who this man was,” I explain quickly.
“But he was hot,” Melissa concludes.
I offer a nervous laugh. “If you ever get bored of bar work, you should join some elite interrogation unit,” I reply, to which, Melissa waits patiently. I huff out a sigh. “Fine, yes he was damn hot.”
“Describe him, woman.”
I stretch my hand high above me. “Tall enough that I’d need to be on tiptoe to touch the top of his head.”
“Or run your fingers through his hair.”
“Dark brown locks just long enough to grip,” I reply, helping her paint the picture. The whiskey has certainly loosened my tongue, and is now working on my inhibitions. “And his green eyes were so intense. It was like they held the power to see right into my soul. ”
Melissa shudders in a way she seems to enjoy. “Was he ripped?”
I roll my eyes. “He was wearing a custom-made suit that strained around his biceps. And his thighs were as thick as tree trunks.”
“Lots of tattoos?”
“Not visible, but yeah, I imagine so,” I say with a groan because now I’m imagining in exquisite detail what might have been underneath that suit.
“Jesus.”
I check the guy next to me who’d been sitting quietly until this point.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he explains. “But for the record, I accept defeat. I don’t think I want to get on the wrong side of this guy.”
“No, I don’t think you would,” I agree, but I can’t help smiling. Hunter has inadvertently saved me from the lecher next to me. For the second time today. What had been in store for me if I’d gone ahead and married Barrett? It wasn’t just me he intended on ruining, but my family’s business.
I notice Melissa’s eyes sparkling. She’s still thinking about Hunter. “Damn, I’ve never met the guy, and I can already tell you that I’d be saying I do to whatever he asked,” she says in a low voice. Her eyes narrow. “And so would you.”
“Stop!” I warn before she gets carried away by some fantasy and takes me with her. “This isn’t some wild, romantic story. He wasn’t my hero. I didn’t have two men fighting over me on my wedding day. It was just two men fighting each other. I was collateral damage.”
That sinks the mood, and we fall silent long enough for me to drink my espresso, clear my head and plan my next move.
My bladder has become painfully full despite my efforts.
My sister-in-law had needed to lift my dress for me this morning while I used the bathroom.
Jennifer and I have become close friends and confidantes since she married my brother, and I don’t envy her being left behind to manage whatever fit Hugo’s throwing right now.
With no more than a subtle nod to Melissa, she finds someone to cover the bar and leads me to the restroom located between the bar and reception.
After my earlier humiliation, the prospect of having a stranger pull down my panties because I can’t reach past the interminable layers of tulle and silk, barely registers.
Melissa couldn’t be sweeter and I don’t begrudge her the story she’ll be able to tell for years to come.
My relief as I head back to the bar is short-lived when I catch furtive movement in my periphery.
I scan the reception area, but there are columns that block my view.
If it was a glimpse of a man in a dark suit I’d caught, I don’t see him now.
The hairs on the back of my exposed neck stand on end.
It’s enough of a reminder that I should book a room and hide out of sight sooner rather than later.
Using the corporate account is still my backup option, but I might see if I can persuade the guy at the bar to exchange cash for my ring since Melissa wouldn’t take it.
I follow closely behind the server, and as we reach the bar, I glance over my shoulder to check the reception area again. I don’t see anything amiss.
My sigh of relief catches in my throat as I face front again. Melissa has slipped behind the bar, and I get my clearest view of the man waiting for us. It isn’t the bored businessman we’d left.
When the new arrival stands up, I have to tip my head to look up into his moss green eyes. “No, no, no,” I repeat as I start backing away .
My heel spears through a layer of my dress, pinning it to the floor, and my next step back snags on more fabric. As I start to fall back, Hunter slips one arm around my waist, and the other snakes around my neck. The touch of skin against skin sends my emotions into freefall.
“I think you should sit down.”
“I don’t want…” His thumb strokes the nape of my neck. I should resist. I need to resist, but my heels are snagged in my dress. I can’t move forward or backwards even if I wanted.
Hunter lifts me by the waist and drops me onto a bar stool. “Stay,” he orders, his voice so deep it vibrates through to my core.
He takes the empty seat my eavesdropper had previously occupied, and my eyes widen as I note the beer bottle resting on its side, the contents soaking into a beer mat.
My heart thumps so hard that I’m sure Hunter must see my pulse in my neck. “What did you do to him?”
“He left,” Hunter says. “Quietly.”
When he smiles, I can’t tell if it’s meant to put me at ease or intimidate me. My jaw clenches. I’m in no mood for either. “Did you kill him?”
His green eyes sparkle. The smile doesn’t falter. “Wow, you do have a low opinion of me. The man walked,” he says, his voice suddenly cold.
I strike with my next question before I lose my nerve. “How did you track me down?”
Hunter leans forward, his eyes never leaving mine as his arm slips around me. I jolt upright, my back stiffening as his hand rests on the back of my bodice
“You don’t have to be frightened of me, Maddison,” he whispers, his face drawing nearer to mine.
I shudder as the bastard’s fingers follow my spine, exploring the cord that laces my dress. I ball my hands into fists, refusing to let him get to me. “I’m not scared,” I hiss into his ear. “I’m pissed.”
“Noted,” he says with an infuriating chuckle.
His head comes too close to my chest for comfort, and I’m debating whether or not to punch him in the nose when I feel a sharp tug on the back of my dress.
Hunter straightens and shows me a pill-sized button. “Tracker,” he explains before pocketing the evidence.
“What the–?” Blood rushes to my head and my mind whirs. When did he plant that? Then I remember. “The goon outside the chapel put it there, didn’t he?” He’d tried to grab me as I ran. Except, I see now, he hadn’t been trying to stop me.
Hunter’s smile broadens into a grin. “My brother,” he explains. “The guy you elbowed.”
“I’m not sorry.”
He laughs. “I’m getting that impression.”
I’ve had enough of this. My life has turned into a dumpster fire and he’s treating it all like a joke. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
“Just to talk,” he replies. “You might not believe it right now, but I’m one of the few people you can trust.”
“Says the man who tracked me down with a bug his brother planted on me,” I scoff.
“For which I apologize, but you really shouldn’t have run, Maddison.”