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Chapter 24
Shit, shit, shit.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? Solo pitched towards Emma like someone trying to avert a tsunami with a bucket and spade.
From across the room, Polly’s eyes lasered into his spine as he managed, “Em, hi, this is a surprise!”
Next to Emma, Carts bounced on his heels, looking apologetic. “Sorry, mate, I completely forgot to tell you, with all the party excitement.”
Solo could only stare at him, perplexed.
“I rang,” Emma explained, placing a hand on Solo’s arm. It was all he could do not to jerk away from her touch. “Carts picked up and said you were in the shower, and”—she gave a nervous laugh—“invited me to come to his party tonight. He said he’d tell you. I didn’t do the wrong thing, did I?”
He smiled and shook his head, though his features felt like they’d crumple right off his face. Emma’s eyes travelled past him and somehow— Christ, the thought made him want to punch himself repeatedly in the jaw—he needed to introduce Emma to Polly, explain this debacle to Polly. And still retain his balls.
“No, no, look, I’ll introduce you to some people. Drink?”
“That would be nice,” Emma said, following him.
In the kitchen, Polly was leaning against the sink with her champagne glass hovering around her nose. He went over and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Her eyes were like iceberg chips over the rim of her glass. When she looked past him, her smile took on angelic proportions. “Hi, you must be Emma. I’m Polly, I work with Solo at the hospital. So lovely to meet you; Solo’s told me such wonderful things about you.”
“He has?” Emma’s brows rose as she cast a quick glance at Solo.
Polly shrugged a shoulder. “Just in chatting, you know how it is. Anyway, I’ll let you two catch up, sooo lovely to meet you, Emma.”
Solo tried to will Polly to look at him. His telepathy attempts bombed. She sashayed past, her movements fluid, shoulders pinned back, but he wasn’t fooled for a second. There were poison arrows darting at him from every cell of her body.
Fuck! This was the price you paid for hiding the truth.
He stifled a groan as he handed Emma her drink and glanced quickly past her to see Polly deep in conversation with the Chris guy, whose face looked strained just from the effort not to gawk at her breasts.
A spasm of violent rage tore into his gut. He’d happily take the guy by the scruff of his shirt collar and throw him out, but he’d asked for everything he got. And if Polly chose to leave with this guy, it would serve him right.
The rage was directed at himself, not the poor man who was being razzle-dazzled by Polly’s charm. Heart in his stomach, Solo turned back to Emma and forced a grin. “It’s great to see you, Em,” he lied.
* * *
She didn’t meanto be rude to the Uber driver, but thirty minutes after her major humiliation Polly couldn’t help snapping out her address to the poor guy like a volley of ammunition.
She threw her bag on the seat and ripped off her stupid fake designer shoes because her toes had gone completely numb. That’s what you got for investing in fakes.
And hate it though she did, yeah, absolutely hated it, she was having to face the fact that she was hurt.
No. Scrub that. Fucking devastated.
All the memories of being sixteen and staring at Danny’s naked arse as it gyrated on top of some faceless girl came flooding back, but the one thing she remembered with clarity was how long and slim the legs were that were wrapped around his butt.
And so, okay, Solo hadn’t got that far—yet —but you bet later tonight he would be shagging that stunning twig.
She ground her back teeth together until she was sure they’d turned to powder and tried to stop the violent stabbing at the back of her eyes; the huge lump that was strangling her ability to take in oxygen.
She gulped hard, fixed her gaze on the passing scenery.
The buildings blurred into a moving haze.
Oh, Christ, she’d promised,promisedherself she would never, ever cry over a guy again.
