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“Nothing I can’t live with,” I answer honestly. “But he’s dangerous. He murdered his former lover, and he was rather aggressive earlier with me. He may be armed, and he’s good with a gun. Please be careful.”
I can hear him drum his fingers on a hard surface. “I will proceed cautiously. Thank you for your help,amor. I will deposit what I owe to your MC when we disconnect.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Signore Bianchi.”
“Likewise, Miss Holland.”
I’m about to hang up when Piero says, “And Simone…”
“Yes?”
“If your biker refuses to listen to reason, reach back out to me. I would love to make him jealous.” He laughs, ending our call.
CHAPTERFIFTY-FIVE
SIMONE
Moving as fast as my feet will allow, I rush back to the hotel suite, ready to confront Chase and fully prepared to grovel if need be. The hurt in my man’s face as he thought I was choosing Trent over him, completely misunderstanding my intent, was soul-shattering. I’m familiar with that crushing feeling all too well when your partner chooses another, and I hate I made him feel that way.
Chase may despise me currently, but when I explain what I’ve done, I’m certain he’ll understand. Especially if I confess my love for him.
It’s been a couple hours since I left the hotel room with Trent, a couple hours too long. Going a minute thinking your partner doesn’t want you is torturous enough, let alone two hours. My heart hurts knowing he went all this time in pain when it wasn’t necessary. If there’s a way for me to erase the pain I’ve inflicted, I’ll do it.
When I open the door to my suite, it’s not Chase who greets me, but Punk.
He gives me a dirty look once I enter the room. “About time you came back. How was your lunch date with your ex, or should I say boyfriend?”
Ignoring Punk’s jab, my eyes sweep the room, looking for Chase. “Where is he?”
“Why do you care?”
I run into the bathroom, hoping to find him there, but he’s not. “Dammit, Punk. Where is Chase?”
“Gone.”
I pop my head out of the bathroom, dread filling my insides. “What do you mean, gone? Like he’s in your suite, or he went out?”
Punk shakes his head. His lips turn downward in a scowl. “No, gone as in he and the rest of the team headed back home as soon as you chose dick-for-brains over my best friend. The only reason I’m still here is as a courtesy to Jo. Also, Atlas would kill me if we left you without security. Trust me, I’d much rather be on the road with my brother than stuck here with you.”
My stomach twists. I wrap my arms around my midsection as my anxiety spikes through the roof. “He left me?”
“What did you expect, Priss?” Punk jeers, looking at me like I’m the dumbest person on the planet. “You chose your ex over Chase. Why the fuck would he stay when the job is done and he has no reason to remain here? Did you expect him to pine away for a woman who rejected him? Fuck that noise, and fuck you.”
“The job wasn’t done, Moron!” I shout in aggravation.
I dig my cell out of my purse and call Chase, but it goes straight to voicemail. If he’s riding his bike, he won’t answer anyway. However, if he turned it off, it means he doesn’t want to be bothered.
“Fuck!”
I do the next logical thing and send him a text, hoping he sees it once he turns on his phone. There’s no way I’m going to inform him I love him for the first time via text. I settle on a generic but pleading message instead.
*Call me, please. It’s important.*
Tossing my cell on the bed, I rush to the closet, grabbing my clothes off the hangers before hastily throwing them into my open suitcase, which I’d left on the bed earlier.
“We have to hurry and catch up to him.”
Punk grabs me around my forearm, bringing me to a screeching halt. “What do you mean, the job wasn’t done?”
