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“But Dad booked you a room,” Scott argues, making my hackles rise.
Yeah. A fucking double with Lauren.
My father is all kinds of fucked-up, but for some reason, having him attempt to pimp me out for a night of fucking with Mr and Mrs Winrow’s daughter is just a whole new level of fucking weird.
Maybe if things were different, if this happened before Abigail became a part of my life, I’d go for it.
Take what he’s offering, enjoy it and then walk away once I got what I wanted.
Maybe I’d even entertain the idea of dating her for a bit, if she was worthy of my time.
But right now, there is only one girl taking up time in my head, and it isn’t Lauren Winrow.
“Yeah, and I’ve already told him that I won’t be making use of it.”
“But Lauren was looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“Really?” I deadpan.
We haven’t talked about the fact we’ve been pushed together by our fathers, but something tells me that she’s about as happy about the whole thing as I am.
She’s got a life of her own just like I have. She’s also a beautiful, intelligent girl. I’m sure that if she wanted a boyfriend, she wouldn’t need her father’s help to get one.
“Yes, she?—”
“I’m leaving,” I say, standing up to him.
It’s probably a bad decision, one that I’ll regret once this gets back to our father, but right now, I really don’t fucking care.
I’ve spent all night smiling and making small talk with people I’ve no interest in talking to.I’ve barely even seen the guys, they’ve also been too busy schmoozing with their father’s acquaintances.
In fact, they’re still in there flashing fake smiles and talking bollocks with anyone who cares to listen.
Well, they’re more than welcome to it.
I, however, am done.
“He’s not going to like this,” Scott warns.
“Yeah? Well that makes fucking two of us,” I snarl.
Before he has a chance to argue, I take off, pushing through the ginormous doors of the hotel and out into the night before Scott, our father, or anyone else can stop me.
The valet takes one look at me and smiles, and for the first time tonight, I give him a genuine one in return as he moves to open the door to my pride and joy. My Aston Martin.
Scott’s attention burns into my back, making my shirt and tie feel two sizes too small, but I don’t turn around or let him know that I’m aware of his stare. Of his disappointment, his anger.
Fuck him.
Fuck both of them.
The second my arse hits the seat, I reach up and loosen my tie, sucking in a deep lungful of fresh air and willing myself to calm down.
Anxious energy thrums through my veins. My need to go and do something to burn it off, making my muscles ache. But with the guys still inside working the room, I don’t have anyone to spar with.
Not that it’s getting sweaty with the guys really sparks my interest right now.
Someone else though…
