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“But none named Addison, right?”
He shook his head this time. “Good. Pass me your room key and tell me their names.”
“Demanding tonight, aren’t you?” he said, taking a key out of his pocket and watching as I tucked it into my bra. “But you’ve always had a reputation for taking what you’ve wanted, right?”
“Absolutely.” I leaned in closer, so we were almost touching, and tilted my head to the side. “Can you guess what I want now?”
“Maybe a repeat of all those years ago? Because Jocelyn, Katie, Cynthia, Brenda, and even Madison couldn’t satisfy my appetite.”
“Wow, all those college girls. You have the stamina of a teenager.” I giggled, swallowing down the bile that bubbled up in my throat.
“Yeah, and those are the ones I remember. Thank fuck I have Ronald to help me cover shit up if they get mouthy. Now, enough talking. Get over here.”
His voice took on a dangerous edge as he grabbed my waist and hauled me against him, pushing my dress aside so his hand could trail up my thigh. I had what I needed: the proof to bury this dickweed. Now I had to make a clean getaway.
“Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” an achingly familiar voice growled, his heavy footfalls moving down the hallway.
Please no. Not Simon.
“I’m Brad, and you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve talking to me like that,” the asshole said, pushing away from the wall and causing his greasy fingertips to dig into my thigh. “As you can see, the lady is occupied. Well, she’s not much of a lady,” he scoffed, his beady eyes peering into mine as he released his hand and stepped toward me.
Like we were playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, I backed up, but he lunged forward and pinched my face, squishing my lips together and glaring over my body—making me feel dirty. “But she’ll do for tonight.”
“Get out of the way, Addison. I’m going to flatten this brazen prick for daring to touch you,” Simon snarled, rage pulsing around him in violent waves as his body trembled with restraint. He barreled forward, but Brad grabbed me, shoving me in front of him and peeking around my shoulder like the pathetic dickfrog he’d always been.
“You better put your dog on a leash,” he snarled, gripping my upper arm so hard my vision blurred. I wasn’t counting on Brad being a hateful drunk—or buzzed enough that his true colors were on display.
I’d steeled myself for this and mentally built my walls back up in my mind to protect my fragile psyche from the hurtful things Brad might say. I never imagined Simon would hear them—never wanted to take the chance of Brad ruining what we could be. We were a hair’s breadth away from this all going to shit, and with the ice-cold glint radiating from Simon’s eyes, that was about to happen.
“Say one more derogatory thing about my girl. I fucking dare you,” Simon said through clenched teeth, his neck turning an angry shade of crimson.
“Your girl? Oh, Addison. He doesn’t know, does he?” The douchebaggette rested his chin on my shoulder, close enough I could smell his sour breath. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, preventing me from responding.
I shrugged him off as the hair clip continued to record every damning word—digging him in deeper and preventing me from elbowing him in the ribs and vaulting into Simon’s arms to share the whole horrid tale. If Brad thought this was a set-up, he and his filthy partner could claim this was all some sick joke and walk. My eyes blurred with tears I refused to let fall as a muscle twitched in my jaw.
Simon remained stock-still, his nostrils flaring as his eyes darted between us.
“Tell him, Addison. Tell him how you messaged me, how we met here. Reach into your dress. Show him my room key. Go on. Do it.” He pushed me toward Simon, throwing me off balance in my heels as a visible vein bulged in Simon’s forehead.
I unconsciously touched the edge of my cleavage where I’d tucked Brad’s key—the key I had no intention of using—then clasped my hands together, dropping them to my waist. His gray eyes turned to concrete before widening in surprise, in disbelief.
“Tell me he’s lying, Addison,” he uttered, his voice raw and deep. I closed my eyes and shook my head, willing the tears to stay away for a little while longer.
“Tell me!” he roared, his voice echoing off the walls, bound to draw attention away from the main ballroom. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and I heard a taunt behind me, glad I couldn’t make out Brad’s words.
The hallway faded to Simon and me as I studied the man who held me in his arms not an hour earlier, whispering promises of a future. His anger and rage simmered under the surface as his eyes darted over my face. “Tell me, now. Or end my suffering.”
We were broken.
At that moment, I made a choice. I chose to save Charlotte. To ruin the sleazeball. To put the story above whatever we could have been. I chose the greater good or whatever bullshit excuse I’d tell myself at three in the morning so I could sleep.
My hand slipped into the sweetheart neckline of my dress, then inside the bra cup, grasping the key card and pulling it out. Simon tensed, widening his stance before yanking on his hair with both hands and bellowing into the hallway, “Fuck!” He turned on his heel, taking long strides down the hall, as one lonesome tear spilled down my cheek. I didn’t have the energy to wipe it away. I watched it drip from my face and stain my dress, marring the beautiful fabric with a perfectly round splotch.
“Why don’t you fetch me a drink, doll, now that your little lap dog has left, and we can finish what we started?”
My head bowed, almost touching my neck, and I focused on the dark marble floor, illuminated by the faint red glow of the exit sign. I had everything we needed for the story, but I couldn’t just bust one of his testicles with my stiletto and run for the exit, setting off the fire alarm to start a new life in Australia. I had to fake my period, a migraine, or perhaps give this bumknuckle a concussion.
I rolled my eyes, pushing down the edgy feeling threatening to overtake my body, and turned around. Brad leaned on the wall with his leg propped against it, and his arms crossed, like the finality of our relationship amused him.
