I should have handed him a real bottle of water the instant his words started slurring beyond recognition, but when my vindictive bitch claws are out, I have a hard time reeling them back in.
I shift my eyes back to the driver. “Three flights of stairs, what’s it gonna cost me?”
* * *
“Rae. . .” I stop tiptoeing out of Alex’s room when he murmurs, “Stay with me.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
I’m not being mean; I truly can’t. The guilt on my chest feels like an elephant is sitting on me, trapping me as desperately as Alex’s deceit blindsided me. This is the reason revenge never works, because neither party feels good once all is said and done. Luca’s death should have taught me that, not the pained groans of a man I hardly know.
“I’ve got stuff to take care of. I’ll see you in the morning. Okay?”
I don’t know why I lie. Perhaps I hope it will ease my guilt enough I won’t smell the alcohol leeching from his pores. It’s suffocating his manly smell as effectively as the vodka drained the color from his cheeks. He looks truly unwell.
“Please, Rae. I don’t feel good.”
No, I guess you wouldn’t since you drank a fifth of vodka in under an hour.
“I can’t—”
“Please, baby.”
His throwaway nickname should annoy me more than it pleases me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. It reminds me of good times more than bad, and how for a whole week, I thought I was more than just a pretty face.
My lips shake when I begin to speak. “I can only stay a little while. I do have important things I need to take care of.”
Hearing the uneasiness in my voice, Alex lifts his head from the pillow to glance my way. I’m shocked he has the strength to do that. “I understand. Thank you.”
I smile to hide the wobble of my top lip. “You’re welcome. Now scoot over.”
After a deep breath to expel my nerves, I kick off my heels, then slip between the sheets. Bad move. Everything I am losing is now displayed directly in front of me. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.
Alex inhales a sharp breath. “Rae, baby, are you crying?”
I shake my head, sending tears flinging off my cheeks. “I’m not crying. You’re just drunk, that’s all.” My quivering voice ruins my campaign.
Vodka fans my lips when Alex laughs. . . or is he groaning? I can’t tell. “I’m not drunk. I don’t drink. I’m just a little unwell.” His glassy eyes bounce between mine for several seconds before he murmurs, “Perhaps I’m love drunk?”
“Please don’t,” I beg through clenched teeth, consumed by an equal amount of anger and resentment.
I may not know this man, but I’ve studied him enough the past week to know some of his telltale signs. His eyes are blazing with the same ownership they held in the wee hours of this morning when he told me he loved me, and the thickness bracing against my thigh hasn’t been hindered in the slightest by his intoxicated state. He wants to ravish me—both my pussy and my heart.
“We arenotgoing there again.”
Alex scoots down the bed so we come eye to eye. He takes his time assessing my wide eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and downturned lips as if he’s not viewing them through a kaleidoscope.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” he asks a short time later. “What I said to you this morning scared you? That’s why you’ve been distant?”
The pain in his words cuts through me like a knife, but I do a good job of pretending my heart isn’t being torn in two. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. I get it was a heat of the moment thing.”That you were playing the part.
“Playing the part?” Alex asks, clearly confused.
Oh shit, I said that out loud?
I roll my eyes like it’s no big deal. “You know? The act guys play when they want to get in your panties. They’ll say anything if it gets them laid.”
Some of the haze in Alex’s squinted gaze shifts toward anger. “I was already in your panties, so why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”
