Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Myles
I wake to hands on me, sliding up and down my cock.
It feels rougher than I remember Zara being but I’m into it, if that’s what she wants.
Happiness floods through me again at the memory of last night, mingled with desire.
I roll over, pulling her against me. Lace scratches my skin, and someone bites my earlobe.
What the hell?
Whoever is in bed with me doesn’t smell right, or feel right. They smell fine, but not like Zara. I open my eyes fully, and realise why the hands on me feel so familiar.
Katya. Fuck.
Somebody gasps. I look over Katya’s shoulder and my heart sinks.
Zara is standing in the archway, a stricken expression on her face.
Her hair is pulled back, but she’s wearing her dress from last night, and I know she has nothing underneath it.
I fight for understanding. Last night I fell asleep with her, yet this morning I woke up with Katya. Was it all a dream?
“What the hell are you doing here?” Katya snarls.
Zara flinches, her eyes filling with tears. It’s as though I’m turned to ice, unable to speak. I still don’t understand what’s happening.
“S-sorry.” Zara’s voice is trembling. “I just needed to ask Myles about something, er, about a meeting this morning.”
“Well, you can text him or something! Can’t you see we’re about to fuck?”
Zara’s gaze flicks from Katya to me, and then back again. I feel as though I’m trapped in a nightmare, bound in cobwebs, unable to move.
With what sounds like a sob Zara turns away, her dress whirling around her. A moment later I hear the thud of the suite door.
“What the hell is her problem? Who does she think she is, coming in here like that? And what was she wearing? You need to rein her in, Myles.” For such a beautiful woman, Katya really can be ugly.
Her lush mouth is contorted in a sneer, but it changes to a smile, her tongue flickering as she presses against me.
“Imagine if she’d showed up a few minutes later.
Wouldn’t have liked to see her boss fucking another woman, would she? ”
“Katya.” I finally find my voice. “What the hell are you doing here?” I push against her restraining arms, managing to extricate myself.
I look around for something to wear, and pull on crumpled linen shorts and a T-shirt.
I need to go after Zara, need to explain…
well, I still don’t know what’s happening, or how Katya got in here. But I know it doesn’t look good.
But if Zara wants to be with me the way she says she does, then she’ll understand when I explain.
This is something we can laugh about together, another of Katya’s stupid stunts.
A sense of unreality drops over me again.
Christ. I need coffee. I need Zara. I need to wind back the clock and figure out what the hell is happening.
Did I imagine the whole thing, the entire glorious evening with her?
I know I didn’t imagine the devastation on her face. I need to find her, quickly.
“What the hell am I doing here?” Katya screeches. “What the fuck is your problem? Is it because I wasn’t nice to your little assistant?”
Her voice changes, becoming softer. She sits up. What the… Are those actual tears in her eyes?
“I tried with her, Myles. I tried to be nice, because I knew it was what you wanted.”
It’s not what I want. What I want has just walked out of here. But I try to rein in my anger, to speak calmly, even though my mind is in a panic. “We ended things, Katya. Why are you here?”
She shrugs. “You ended things. Just like I did, last month.” There’s a pleading tone to her voice. “This is you and me, baby. We fight, we break up, we fuck, we get back together, right?”
“Not anymore,” I growl, my need pulling at me. “We are done.”
“Done? Why, because you’re fucking her now? I saw the photos.”
I go cold. “What?”
“You think you can bring her here for sex and someone wouldn’t see you?”
“What. Photos?” I grind out the words. I’m desperate to get to Zara, but I also need to know what’s going on. The chill down my spine worsens. This could be a massive screw-up.
“You and her, eating dinner and laughing.” Katya shakes her head, her red hair tumbling down her back. “I saw them. Everyone did. And I know she has a crush on you. So, did you screw her?” She laughs, even though I can see hurt in her eyes. “Bet that’s the first time she’s been with a real man.”
“Get. Out.” I am almost on fire with rage. But it’s threaded with relief. A photo of me having dinner with someone is no big deal. I’d been worried that someone might have seen us on the beach together. I’ll protect Zara as best I can, nonetheless, but dinner is easy to explain away.
“No.” Katya pouts.
I don’t have time for this. I need to find Zara. I don’t even know what goddamn room she’s in, but I’ll knock on every door in this damn hotel if I have to. “Fine.” I snap. “But be very clear on one thing. We are done. You can stay here if you want, but I’m leaving. Today.”
I don’t give her time to answer. I leave the suite, letting the door swing closed behind me. I don’t care if it locks, don’t care if Katya steals everything in there, or sets the place on fire. Everything I care about just walked out, and I need to find her.
Zara
I think I’m going to be sick.
I run to my room, tears running down my cheeks, fumbling with the key card so I drop it. I need to get out of here.
How could I have been so stupid?
He must have been lying to me about breaking up with Katya.
A stupid ruse, just to get me into bed. What the hell is wrong with me?
I obviously learned nothing from the Dean situation.
I try not to sob as I pull my case out, open it and start shoving my clothes in.
I take off the silk dress and leave it on a chair, draped over the rug from Taghazout, then add the bathing suit and other things he bought me.
I don’t want any reminders of how stupid I’ve been.
I was just a distraction, that’s obvious now.
He wants to be with me? Myles Brandon, billionaire, wants to date his assistant?
I must have rocks in my head to have believed any of it.
I was just someone to have sex with until Big Red showed up again, and I fell for it, like the stupidest fish on the line.
Tears catch in my throat as I throw the last of my clothes in the case, followed by my toiletries. I pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, slide my feet into sneakers, and zip up the case. I need to get out of here. I need to go home.
Longing for my quiet blue room, for the grey streets of London, for Eloise, rolls over me. The spell is well and truly broken, and I’m on the other side of it, a little more damaged than I was before.
A lot more damaged, to be honest. Myles might have been lying about wanting to be with me, but I wasn’t.
This hurts so much, far more than losing Dean ever did.
I don’t know how I’m going to get over this.
But I do know I need to never see him again.
I open my hotel room door, glancing nervously down the corridor.
He’s probably shagging Katya right now but, on the off-chance he’s come after me, I don’t want to be found.
The hallway is deserted. I take the stairs, carrying my case with both hands as I descend to the lobby. I head to the desk, dropping my key card. The young man behind it, the same one who’d showed Myles and I around the suite, looks up, surprised.
I must look a fright, my hair slipping from the knot, tears on my face. I don’t care. I just have to get out of here.
I lug my case to the door, ignoring the calls of “Madame!” behind me. The hotel is paid for, nothing else needs to be done.
“Can you get me a taxi?” I ask the man at the doors. One pulls up just as I ask, a family tumbling out. I stick my head in the door. “Airport?”
The driver nods and, as soon as the family and their luggage are out, I’m in, pulling the door closed. Not until we’re out of the street, joining the maelstrom of traffic, can I breathe properly again.
But each breath hurts as though my ribs are broken, sobs threatening. I pull myself together with an effort. I need to get on a flight and get home, and then I can break.
I run through the airport to the ticket desk, dragging my bag behind me. I’m terrified that Myles will suddenly appear and I’ll have to face him. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that. I need to put space and distance between us.
Thankfully, there’s no one waiting at the desk. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and pull my wallet from my bag. I’ll have to dip into my savings to get home, but I don’t have any other choice.
“Good morning.” The woman behind the counter is pleasant and smiling, her dark hair pulled back.
“I need to get on the next available flight to London.” My throat feels constricted, and I clear it. “Economy class, please.”
The woman’s dark brows draw together slightly. She nods, typing something into her computer. She frowns at the screen, then her brow clears. “I have a seat left on a flight leaving in forty-five minutes,” she says. “But you’ll have to run.”
“I’ll take it.” I hand her my card. “Thank you so much.”
The price isn’t too bad but, as I say, I don’t care.
I need to leave this place behind. Ticket in hand, I race over to the bag drop and leave my bag, then head for security.
I still have FastTrack clearance, so I use it, holding myself together as I step through the archway, collecting my carry-on and heading into the perfume and lights of duty-free.
I pass a large poster of Big Red and resist the urge to put my fist through it.
Anger is surging in me now, breaking through the shock. I channel it into walking quickly, heading for my gate. When I arrive, boarding has already started, and I join the queue.
It’s not until I’m on the plane, strapped into my seat, that I actually start to breathe properly. As we soar into the clouds, I turn my face to the window and weep.