THIRTY-FOUR
PLENTY OF CHAMPAGNE later, with more than a few cocktails thrown in, the music and intoxication were doing their work. Baer…? Baer who…?
Sigh. If only…
The Ruby Room was a place of joy, oblivion, openness. For those granted the right to be there. It was the super-restricted playroom of Zairn and Roxie. Ensconced beyond the VIP area of the exclusive Crimson nightclub, it was an extension of the Lomonds’ home, seventy-something floors above. Full of friends, safe, where anyone could get anything at any time. Hosting was what the resident couple did best. Publicly anyway, she wouldn’t venture to guess what they did best in private.
Bar visits weren’t necessary, unless someone particularly wanted to prop it up. Guests were taken care of there. Nestled in the corner of the couch perpendicular to the one reserved for Zairn Lomond, she was enjoying the latest full glass brought to her by a server.
Someone dropped onto the couch at her side. “Dere! You’ve been tucked up here all night. Time to hit the dance floor. Come on.”
“Tripp Breckenridge, you’re a secret sweetheart, aren’t you?”
“Secret? No secret, everyone knows I’m a teddy bear.”
“I know Roxie wants to take care of me…” Or more accurately, wanted him to take care of her. “But what would your mother say?”
“She’d have the church booked before breakfast. You’re one of her favorites.”
As they laughed, he threw an arm around her.
“You only get one shot with Roxie’s girls. We have rules. Don’t waste that shot on me. I’m not your forever girl.”
“No such thing. No woman will tie me down.”
They would if his mother had anything to say about it. Family was a big deal to the Breckenridges. A big, huge deal. While Deres were scarce, there was an abundance of Breckenridges. Alice Breckenridge, his mom, would always support her boys, no matter what, and the woman believed in the joy of love.
Did she believe in the joy of love anymore? Had she ever? Maybe once upon a time… to still believe would be sort of ridiculous.
A woman stepped up, out of the bodies dancing nearby to approach. Astrid. One of Roxie’s assistants. Young, sometimes a little uncertain, but a beautiful person with a heart of gold.
Astrid crouched in front of them and Tripp leaned in to listen to the words whispered less than an inch from his ear. A young woman like Astrid could learn a lot from an experienced guy like Tripp Breckenridge. But he wouldn’t teach, not Astrid… would he? Tripp liked women, that was for sure, but he wasn’t indiscriminate, he had his own… parameters.
She bet everyone in that room had had sex of some sort in the last two weeks. Not her. No. She’d slept with the hottest man she’d ever met and somehow had been stubborn enough, ridiculous enough, to demand he keep certain body parts to himself. What had she been thinking? Stupid rules. Why couldn’t she just let loose and have fun? What was wrong with her?
Maybe if she could figure that out, she wouldn’t be facing a lifetime alone. Truman was all she had. And he wouldn’t be around forever. Would she move into the house after he was gone? That big, echoey house. All alone. She loved living in it growing up, being there was a treat, and she’d rather have been there than at school most of the time.
Tripp laced his fingers between hers. “Come on.”
“Come on where?”
He hoisted her to her feet and used their joined hands to hook her back against his chest. Weaving her through the dancers, they slipped into the elevator and then were going up.
“Roxie’s got something for you upstairs.”
“For me?” The hostess hadn’t been at her side for a while. Roxie had a lot of people to entertain, so she hadn’t thought anything of it. Now she learned the woman hadn’t been in the room. “Upstairs where? What is it?”
“Just my job to get you there. I’ll be around if there’s trouble.”
Trouble?
Why would there be trouble? Oh, what had Roxie got them into now? The tenacious woman was bold and unapologetic, whatever awaited her wouldn’t be something subtle or benign.
They left the elevator on a floor of private suites. Not Roxie and Zairn’s penthouse. Was that reassuring or not? Still with a hold of her hand and their bodies pressed together, Tripp guided her up the corridor and reached over her to shove open a door to send it rocking back, presenting the room to her. There was Roxie, not alone, with a couple dozen other people milling around. This was a private-private party of some kind.
There was music, alcohol, servers, canapés… Her friend spotted her and quickly rushed over.
“Okay, don’t be mad,” Roxie said, maintaining her smile though there was almost a wince in her eyes. “It was a spontaneous decision. Toria’s suggestion actually…” Toria was another of Roxie’s girls. “This is the best way to get answers. We’re through letting them get away with it.”
“Letting who get away with what?”
At that moment, the door in the far corner opened and Toria came out with two men. One of whom stopped her in her tracks. Okay, she hadn’t actually been walking, but the whole world seemed to jar to a halt.
“Baer?” she hissed at Roxie, leaning in closer. “How did you get him here?”
“Honey, I get anything I want here. And if I phone for service, somewhere like Squires answers in a heartbeat. You know how much business we throw their way?” Roxie took her hand from Tripp. “We’re going to give him a piece of our mind.”
“Collectively?” Her friend led her across the room and her feet were too stunned to think about resisting. “Who are all these people?”
Roxie waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder. “People. Window dressing. A smokescreen, just like the half dozen other guys we requested from Squires.”
Now that she mentioned it, the male faces were familiar. No Donoghue or Leon, but she got a flashback or two to the James Bond convention. Did they recognize her? What did it matter? The only person who mattered—oh, God, Roxie was taking her over there. She couldn’t even bring herself to look up. Turned out she didn’t need to, he made himself known.
“What the hell is this?”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, Baer,” Roxie said and blocked his way, gesturing toward the door still open behind him. “Get in there.”
He did as ordered, though his gait betrayed his reluctance, his anger.
“This how you get around what I said?” Baer asked, stopping next to the bed.
Yes, this was a bedroom. Great. Just where she needed to be holed up with him. The immaculate linens didn’t bear a single crease. What a wonderful representation of their future. Pristine, perfect from afar but never to be touched.
“She knew nothing about this,” Roxie said. “This was all me. Freya is one of the best, most kind, generous, incredible women not only in the city, but in the whole damn world. And men like you, who think just because you’re pretty and women lineup, that you can treat kind, goodhearted people anyway you want. I say no. You don’t get to treat her like dirt. Any woman like dirt. You don’t pick them up, use them for their wealth—”
“Is that what she told you? Because the damn opposite is true. I don’t want anything to do with her money. She’s the one who chose to use it, to manipulate me and my family—”
Roxie laughed. “Not a chance I’ll believe that. Of Freya Dere? No one would. You should do your research before slandering a woman like her. You’re a creep, a letch, like all the other men who came before. You see her as a soft touch, a free ride. What you do allows you access to women with means, it doesn’t follow that you can treat them like crap. Having money doesn’t make them any less human. Did you think about that? What it’s like to never know why people want to be in your life?”
“Yeah, she sold me that line too. Missed the part where she wanted every guy kowtowed. I sell sex, sure, that doesn’t mean I’ll give up my free will to the highest bidder.”
She didn’t get it. “I never wanted your free will. I wanted us to be together. What I said in the car—I told Roxie, before I came over to yours, I didn’t want it to spook you. I could never have guessed it would make you do this. I don’t understand how so much can change in so little time.”
“You know exactly what you did. And it was nothing to do with what you said in the car.” He scoffed in a sort of ironic laugh. “I was pissed then, sure. Not because you said it, but because you told me not to say it back. I thought we were there. I thought we had this and then you—”
“What?” she begged, cursing the alcohol for putting tears in her eyes. “What is it that you think I did? Conrad has the check, I wrote it before we left. And I told you the money was yours regardless of what happened on the vacation.”
Except nothing had happened on vacation. As in, nothing bad. They’d been fine before they left, for the car rides, the flight. She couldn’t understand where this was coming from.
“I don’t give a shit about the money. You can keep your check. Conrad gave it to me, I put it in your mailbox on the way over here. I don’t want it.”
Now she was even more confused. “When did this change? The guy in the back of the car, when we were alone, the guy who invited me to dinner… How did we get from there to here?”
“You put us here. What? It wasn’t enough that you paid all the past due bills—and my mom’s tab, you put the damn account in credit like you were doing us a favor. Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I start dating a rich princess and it’s a magical coincidence my rent’s paid for the year, and the twins get accepted to some private school we never applied for, full tuition paid.”
What was he talking about?
“Freya?” Roxie touched the groove of her back. “Are you okay, honey?”
No, the room was spinning. “I don’t understand. How we got here… How we…”
Roxie guided her over to the bed practically barging Baer out the way. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You should lie down. I’ll send the asshole away.”
“I’m no asshole,” Baer declared, offended. “She interfered. She went behind my back and tried to buy my family—”
“Oh, would you listen to yourself?” Roxie sneered. “You didn’t know her at all if you think she’s like that. She would never, ever go behind anyone’s back. She would open her bank account to anyone in a heartbeat, but sneaking around, manipulating, being underhand, sly—”
“Roxie—”
“No, he doesn’t get away with it. And you know what? I’m so damn pleased this has fallen apart now. God, do you have any idea what Zairn would do to this guy if he heard the way he’s talking to you right now? So, asshole, if I were you, I’d get the hell out of here and never breathe Freya’s name to anyone for the rest of your life. If you don’t, you’ll never work another day in the city, in this country. We’ll make sure people wouldn’t let you near enough to even shine their shoes.”
“We’re not like that. Roxie, we could never—”
“We don’t have to be like anything. Just because you don’t have a vindictive or scornful bone in your body doesn’t mean I don’t. I’m more than happy to ruin this asshole.”
The door burst open, interrupting the moment. Astrid. Slightly out of breath, fixated on Roxie, and a few shades paler than she’d been downstairs. Uh oh.