Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Outside of the hotel, I tried my best not to gawk.
Five stars weren’t enough for the building that sprawled in front of me.
There was valet parking and as I got out of the car, André met me on my side.
I’d expected the PDA to take a backseat when it came to work, but André didn’t hesitate to grab my hand and lead me inside.
The crystal chandelier that hung from the vaulted ceiling had to be bigger than my bed.
People bustled around us. Guests came and went, bellhops zoomed past us with carts of luggage.
I was completely immersed in the rich red and gold environment.
I was glad André had my hand because otherwise I’d have made a fool of myself.
He led me through the lobby and stopped outside a door marked “Grand Ballroom One.”
Did that mean there were more?
“You ready?” André asked, looping his arm around my waist.
“Not in the slightest.” I tried to focus on his eyes instead of all the overwhelming sensations around me.
He flashed me that award winning smile and leaned down to kiss me. “You’ve got this baby. Just follow my lead. And if all else fails, there’s an open bar.”
“Alright, that makes it better.”
André opened the heavy wooden door, leading me straight to the bar. He had a drink in each hand before I could blink.
“Here, baby.” He pointed across the room to a couple of guys that looked like they were plucked straight off Wall Street. One was a head taller, the other more slender, but both had the same identical black hair and dark eyes. “Those are my partners. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Here we go. My heartbeat rushed in my ears, and I took a long sip of my drink, letting the burn of the alcohol ground me.
As we approached the two men, a blonde woman in a stunning black dress joined them, slipping her arm around the slender one’s waist. She caught sight of André—and me standing next to him.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh my God, aren’t you just the cutest thing?
” she screamed in a thick Southern accent.
A big smile spread across her face, and she lunged forward to give me a hug, knocking my drink in the process with her very pregnant belly.
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, rushing to find a napkin, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Don’t worry about it; she’s only getting in the way at this point. André, why have you been hiding him from us?”
“Have you met your husband?” André quipped. “And at that, have you met your brother-in-law?”
“I take personal offense to that,” the taller one answered.
“You should.” André kept a hand on the small of my back and gestured around the group. “David, this is my business partner Penn, his wife Amanda, and our office pet, Mitchell.”
Ignoring another grumble from Mitchell, André crouched in front of Amanda’s belly. “And this little girl is going to be the new face of our—ow!”
Amanda had just smacked him on the head and told him to cut it out. He straightened, and his hand returned to my back. He fell into work talk, so I turned to Amanda.
“Can I ask how far along you are?”
Amanda rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her bump. “Thirty-eight weeks too far. They say pregnancy is a beautiful experience. I can’t say that I agree.”
She asked how I met André, and the story rolled off my tongue way too easily. Amanda listened intently, starry-eyed. I hadn’t realized that everyone else had stopped talking to listen to me until Mitchell spoke, startling me. “So, have you set a date yet?’
“What for?” I brought my glass to my mouth for the last slip of my drink…
“The wedding.”
And inhaled it.
“Mitch!” André scolded, rubbing my back as I choked.
“What? You’ve never had a boyfriend before! This has to be serious,” Mitchell defended, unfortunately setting his sights on me once more. “Where’s your ring? As bougie as André is, it must be huge.”
Amanda blotted my mouth dry with napkins, shooting Mitchell a look that could kill.
“Put a sock in it or I’ll tell him about the Christmas party,” André threatened.
The coughs turned to laughter, and I managed to speak. “I think I need another drink.”
“I’ll go with you,” Amanda offered.
“Please,” André added. “So I can strangle your brother-in-law with as few witnesses as possible.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Amanda told me as we waited on our drinks. “He thinks he’s funny but he’s just an asshole.”
“He’s fine.”
I scanned the room. There must have been at least a couple hundred people cramming the space. I noticed André break away from his business partners and head straight toward a man in the middle of the room, shaking his hand as he sat down. My man oozed charm, his smile lighting up the room.
“How long did it take you to get used to these events?” I asked Amanda.
“Penn and Mitchell started the firm a couple years after we got married, so I’ve watched it grow with them. I guess as the number of clients grew, I never noticed.”
She must have registered the panicked expression on my face because she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder to redirect my attention.
“Don’t be nervous. Your only job here is to let him do all the talking. You just sit back, look pretty, and enjoy the free drinks. If I can say so, André’s done a damn fine job at making you look pretty.”
So much for not being a kept boy. Oddly enough, though, I didn’t hate it.
Our drinks were finally placed on the rail, and I had to try both because the bartender couldn’t remember which one had alcohol in it.
“While you’re enjoying the free drinks,” Amanda said, taking hers, “have one for me because the little dictator in my belly won’t let me.”
She gave me a kind smile and returned to her husband, and almost of their own accord, my feet carried me back to André. André was lounged back in the chair, with one ankle crossed over his knee. His elbow was resting on the table, hand flying along with his words. He looked so comfortable.
I tried to be as respectful as possible, slowly approaching André and setting my hand on his shoulder to alert him to my presence. The guy in front of him noticed me first, and I gave him the best smile I could. André turned his head, smiling as he finished his sentence.
“Is this your partner?” the guys asked with a charming smile. He couldn’t have been much older than André. His golden hair was frozen into a flawless hairstyle, like a Ken doll.
André’s blinding grin widened in a way that made me feel like my stomach was in a vice. “My boyfriend, David.” They both stood up. “This is Dr. Travis Sadler. Last year I sold him the building for his now world-famous urology clinic, and his sister’s been trailing after me ever since.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I choked out as he shook my hand.
“Likewise. Though I have to say, my sister’s going to be heartbroken. I don’t think she believed me when I said this man was gay.”
André moved to another chair and offered me his. “She’ll still fawn over me like a lost puppy.”
Travis brought his own drink to his mouth. “Yeah, that girl doesn’t give up easily.”
I nursed my second drink, trying to keep up with the conversation. Mostly, I focused on André’s thigh pressed against my own. The heat from his skin poured through thin layers of clothing.
André kept close, but still remained professional. His arm draped over the back of my hair and his other hand would periodically drop to my thigh for a reassuring touch.
By the end of the second drink, my head started to spin. God, how strong was this booze?
André introduced me to countless people, but I couldn’t remember any of their names.
Not that they were there for me in the first place.
I smiled and nodded when I needed to, and let André run the show.
He won over every single person, trading details with almost all of them.
The more I saw him charm the pants off everyone else, the more I accepted being a bit of arm candy.
When André grabbed scotch for someone, he handed me a third drink—which hit ten times harder than the first two.
I hadn’t gotten halfway through before I started to wobble on my feet.
Before I could take too much attention from André—or make either of us look sloppy—I excused myself to the restroom.
Thankfully, it was empty. I didn’t trust my legs to hold me up long enough to use the urinals, so I let myself into a stall and managed to at least get my pants down before my knees buckled. Dropping my head into my hands, I begged the room to stop spinning.
I knew bourbon was strong, but it wasn’t often that I felt like I’d killed the bottle after a few drinks. I was nauseous, unable to pick my head up for fear of vomiting everywhere. I felt like I was about to fall asleep.
With deep breaths, I let myself feel that way long enough to notice my phone going off. Only then did I stand up and force myself to get it together. This was a big night for André. I couldn’t screw it up for him.
As I was doing up my belt, the door opened and someone entered the stall next to me.
I unlocked my door and staggered over to the sink, splashing cold water on my face. While I had my eyes closed, whoever was in the other stall left. Heavy footsteps came to a stop from behind me. My skin pebbled into goosebumps, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
“I’m sorry; I’ll only be a second.”
“You really want to keep me waiting?”
My stomach dropped and my eyes shot open. Twisting in my gut, and I barely had time to turn and throw up into the trash. Thankfully I’d missed the sink… or the floor. No, he’d taught me my lesson about making others clean up my messes.
Regan strolled across the room, turning the water off. I tried to talk, but every time I opened my mouth, it wasn’t words that came up.
“Still a lightweight, I see.”
My body told me to run. Everything in me was saying to bolt and grab ahold of the first person I found and beg for help—but he was blocking the door. He was too good to give me any way out, but made sure he could still see who came in.
“R-Regan,” I choked, spitting up bile.
When I finally managed to look up again, he sneered at me, satisfied that he’d broken me yet again.
His formerly long, curly red hair was cut off and dyed dark along with his eyebrows. He’d put on more muscle, but it was still Regan. I couldn’t mistake that voice, nor the way he looked at me. He stood like he commanded that room and in that moment, he did.
I dry heaved, scared to step too far from the trash can.
“It’s been—”—gag— “you all along hasn’t it.”
“What are you talking about?” Regan crossed his arms over his chest.
Gag. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
Regan barked out an evil laugh that I’d often hear after he’d make a catch. “I’m the best bounty hunter on the east coast. Besides, if you want to go into hiding, you should change your phone number. While you’re at it, a new bank account wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”
“Why now?”
“You got too comfortable. I was actually starting to think you forgot about me.”
Regan took three slow, intimidating steps towards me, steel-toed boots thumping against the tile floor.
“There are other people here so I’ll keep this short and sweet.
Sugar Daddy’s going to have to leave you alone some time, and when he does, I’ll be waiting.
” I heard a whoosh, and when I looked down, he had a pocketknife in his hand with the blade pointing towards me.
He pressed the blade into my side, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to prove his point.
It hurt, the edges digging into my skin.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what’s going to happen if you tell anyone I’m here. Don’t forget who I am.”
The door pushed open and Regan snapped the knife shut. I forced myself to stand upright, leaning against the wall. Mitchell entered the room, taking in his surroundings. Naturally, he asked me if I was okay.
Regan answered for me—as he always had. “Oh, everything’s fine. Guess the little guy just can’t hold his booze.”
He clapped his hand down on my shoulder, making his threat clear in the way his thumb dug into my shoulder blade.
Keep your mouth shut. He let go and skirted around Mitchell to exit the bathroom.
The man turned back to me, and I braced myself for another smartass comment. Instead, his eyes turned soft.
My vision blurred. The room spun again.
“You’re white as a sheet. Should I get André?”
Yes, please. I opened my mouth to talk, but nothing came out. My lungs seized. I coughed, trying to breathe. I managed to nod, and then everything went dark.