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We went up to his hotel room. It was wild and desperate. Everything I needed to happen, he’d delivered. I didn’t even remember words, other than learning his name was Luc.
Desperately alone, I’d wanted to lose myself in someone’s arms for the night. It was out of character and I never did that, butshehad. God, I missed her.
Acting like my dead best friend was a horrible way of resurrecting her. But I was grateful to the stranger who’d made me forget, if not for the headache that I’d awakened to—in a room that wasn’t mine.
Mortified, I blinked the spacious suite into focus and did a quick visual sweep. I vaguely remembered the guy I’d spent hours getting to know intimately waking me while it was still dark out to say he had to go to work, he’d ordered me breakfast, I should eat, and then the doorman could call me a ride. Then I’d promptly fallen back asleep, my exhausted body cushioned in the most decadent bed.
Once awake, my embarrassment knew no bounds. At least he wasn’t there. It didn’t matter. I was screwed—in both senses of the word.
All I knew about him, other than what he looked like naked, was that he stayed in the high-end hotel where the bar I’d been in last night was, his name was Luc, and he had a physique like a star athlete or, judging by the scars and tattoos that graced his body, a champion fighter. We hadn’t talked unless it was to tell each other what we wanted. He was alpha to the core, something I liked in the bedroom. I inhaled a long, calming breath. I wasn’t that girl. That would not happen again, especially since I would avoid that bar going forward.
With my arms over my head, I stretched on the king-sized bed that had given me the best, if too few for my liking, hours of sleep of my life, with soft sheets in the highest thread count I would probably ever experience. We’d shoved most of the towering mound of pillows off the night before, but two remained that were so comfortable I wanted to take mine home with me, along with the pillowy-soft duvet.
A glance at the time sent a jolt of adrenaline through my system, propelling me to sit up. The sun streaming through the window should have woken me earlier, just as the hot-as-hell man I’d fallen into at the bar then into bed with had. I’d ignored both and had closed my eyes again, oblivious to everything. I hadn’t heard the shower he’d taken or the room service arriving before he left—though I could smell the heavenly scent of food—or my phone’s incessant alarm. I was late for work, and I needed to leave fast. I didn’t want to run into Luc.
Another peek at the time, and I grunted over how late I was, knowing I had to take a shower after the sexcapades but couldn’t risk it.
Then I noticed the note next to where my phone had been on the bedside table. It was from Luc:Let’s do dinner. Beneath that was his phone number. A warm flush heated my body. His offer was tempting, but after what we’d done last night, I couldn’t do it. He’d gotten the wrong impression of me. I forced myself to ignore his invitation as I threw the covers back.
I hopped out of bed and searched for my panties, finally spotting them dangling from the arm of the couch. Sheer curtains bracketed the floor-to-ceiling window partially covered by a shade that blocked the brightness of the rising sun. There was a huge TV at the end of the bed over a low dresser, where I found my blouse hanging. I ignored the spa-like bathroom and its giant walk-in shower and rainwater showerhead. I frantically searched for the rest of my clothes before vague memories of where I’d taken them off surfaced.
Cheeks heating, I went into the main room of the suite, where there was a large table, more furniture, and the rest of my clothes. I threw on my semiwrinkled skirt and blouse—last night’s clothes. I toed on shoes, the backpack purse, and my light coat—California could be chilly in December. The decadence of the suite made an impression on me, despite how desperate I was to get out of there.
So this is how the other half lives…
Dammit, Lauralee. I got that she’d wanted a taste of this life and had thought she had an easy way in. But we’d had a good thing going, living together in Georgia, and she’d had to ruin it by blackmailing her boyfriend—who’d killed her. I knew it was him.
I couldn’t throw stones about her shitty taste in men. I’d been with Jayden, my deadbeat boyfriend, for more years than was healthy. I’d ditched him and moved in with my best friend, only to discover she still had equally bad judgment when it came to men. I blew a strand of hair from my face.
I dragged my sore-in-certain-places body out of the hotel room. Racing toward the elevator, I stabbed the button to call it up. As I waited, I tapped my stiletto-clad foot while images from last night rolled through my mind in stimulating clarity, followed by the nightmare that had become my life and the event it’d snowballed from.
One month, two weeks, and one day ago, my best friend’s New York mob-thug boyfriend had attacked me. The only reason for him to have done that was obvious—she must have put her scheme into motion. Why else would he have ransacked our apartment and come after me? I’d tried to talk Lauralee out of what she’d planned before that had happened, but she was determined. The last thing she’d said played through my head like a bad horror flick’s foreshadowing of horrible things to come:“Think of the cash he’ll pay. I mean, come on, Summer, we could make bank off of hush money. No more working. Don’t you want that? Because I sure as hell do.”
I’d moved from Georgia to California after the run-in with Ben at my apartment. It had taken a few weeks of living on ramen and dwindling savings until I landed a job as an executive secretary by lying through my teeth and with the help of a friend’s sister who owned a temp agency. Last night, though, I had a momentary lapse in judgment. Too many things happening at once can do that: the buyout that left my job in a precarious position—I only had another few weeks left to work there—then finding out about Lauralee’s death were the last straws.
I swiped a few tears from my eyes and took a deep breath. I’d moved out of town because Ben Amato was on my heels. Case in point, Lauralee’s backpack contained the evidence. I’d held out hope that she’d gotten away, that she was alive. Now I knew better.
I hadn’t even watched the video stashed in one of the inside pockets of her backpack. The phone was password protected, so I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to. But I would hold on to it, as I knew it could potentially save my life.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. With no more time to think, I stepped inside and hit the button for the ground floor, missing home something fierce as I hugged my coat tightly around my body.
My hometown had a similar winter climate, but the pace of life was drastically different. I was accustomed to the slow paddle of porch fans and the humid, floral air of Georgia. California was fast cars, smoggy skies, and slick men. It was an adjustment I wasn’t sure I liked.
At least I would never see the man from last night again. That was a good thing.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened with a swoosh. Shivering from the hotel air conditioning, I dashed out and through the lobby then hailed a cab rather than ask the doorman for help in my current walk-of-shame clothing. I was splurging on the ride because I didn’t have time to try to figure out the bus. I was too late and hoped it wouldn’t result in my last day of employment. I bounced my knees up and down in the back of the car.
I slid the backpack off and pulled my phone out to dial Francis, who worked in the cubicle close to where my desk was. It rang once, and he picked up.
“Cartier Financial Services, this is Francis. How can I help you?”
“It’s Summer. I’m late. Is the new boss there yet?”
“Girl, you better get your butt here fast,” he whispered in his familiar melodic voice that usually made me smile, but there was no comfort from his guard dropping this morning. I heard his worry clear as day. “Mr. Cartier was escorted out by security. It was horrifyingly entertaining. You missed out.”
I groaned. Our old boss hadn’t been that bad. I wondered what he’d done to warrant an escort from the building. Refused to leave after the company was no longer his? “So our new boss is there?”
“He’s here, and no one wants to get caught in that man’s warpath.” He clicked his tongue. “Although I wouldn’t mind it.”
