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“No!” I choke out, and Max glances at me, his eyebrows rising. “I don’t want him to know where I am.”
Looking dubious, Max nods and shoves his phone away, gesturing I follow him down the hallway to the spare bedrooms.
Mechanically, I shower and tug on the large T-shirt that Max handed me. It reads Harvard on the front. I guess that’s where he went to school. Numb, I crawl into the bed and turn on my iPad. The picture of Andrew and me that David found so offensive blinks to life, and I study it for a moment, smiling softly as my fingers trail over the screen, over Andrew’s face. I unlock the device and pull up Google Images. Soon, David’s handsome face is staring back at me from a million and one different photographs. I can recognize Max in some of them, and Bill in others. There are a series of men who must be the other Westerhaven nephews. And plenty of gorgeous women.
As if I need more evidence than the surprise on Max’s face when he realized that I was trying to tell him that David and I had been sleeping together. That was enough to remind me that men like David don’t sleep with women who look like me. And now I have all the photographic evidence right in front of me.
Honestly, the knowledge that David and I should, logically, never have even met, let alone started a fling, is the reason that I jumped at his offer. I always knew that there would never be a chance that he’d develop feelings for me. All my “no romance” stuff was to remindmeI couldn’t develop feelings forhim. Much good that it did me. I fell for him anyway.
Curling up under the coverlet, I stare into a picture of David’s eyes until I can’t see any more through the tears. I cry until I fall asleep.
David
Shafts of light assault my eyes, and I groan, forcing my head off the couch cushion, blinking in the morning sunlight. Fuck. I feel like shit. Staring out the windows, watching the sun come up over Central Park, I might as well analyze this fucking misery.
I’ve slept with unsuitable women before. Hell, I’ve slept with married women before. I didn’t know that they were married at the time, and as soon as I found out, I broke things off. But I never reacted the way I did to this. Am I such a fucking asshole that I thought that someone likeAniwouldn’t dare try to pull such a stunt? Probably not. I can hardly blame the woman. I initiated everything. Hell, she kept trying to say that it wasn’t a good idea. I should have fucking listened.
No. Deep down I know why this cut so deep. Because despite all my cockiness that it wouldn’t be a problem, I’ve gone and developed feelings for her. Ani is … relaxing… to be around. That’s not a good way to describe it. Hell, I don’t even know what the fuck I mean. My eyes land on the abstract clock. She should be emerging soon. I cock my head toward the hall, but the place is still fucking silent. Just like it was last night when she let herself out.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and scrub my face. I shouldn’t have blown up at her like a pissy little bitch. I should have fucking asked her outright if she was cheating on someone with me. Fuck it. I’ll go do it now. Clear the air, so to speak, before we have to head into the office.
Shoving off the couch, I trudge through the penthouse and around to her bedroom door, raising my hand and shaking my head. Fucking knock, David. Don’t be such a pussy.
There’s no answer to my knock on her bedroom door. Cracking it open, I peek through the gap and shove the door open, my insides cold. The room is empty, the bed neatly made. Fuck. She didn’t sleep in here last night. My heart thuds in my ears as I check all the other rooms on my way upstairs, she’s not anywhere in the entire fucking penthouse, and it’s not even seven o’clock. Taking the stairs two at a time, I burst out onto the rooftop terrace, but she’s not there either.
“Fuck.” I punch the wall of the landing at the top of the stairs when I head back inside. She clearly took me at my word last night when I told her to get out. She’s never been to New York before this. Anything could have fucking happened to her. I pull up her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. Three times.Fucking fuck. Jogging downstairs, I call Antonio. Max will know what to do. I have to catch him before he leaves for work.
Antonio meets me downstairs. He clearly took my urgency at its tone. He’s dressed in his usual slacks, button-down shirt, and a jacket, but he isn’t wearing a tie, and he’s wearing loafers, not dress shoes.
“Where to, sir?”
“Max’s place.”
He nods, holding the door of the Rolls-Royce open for me. I slide in, checking my phone as we drive through Manhattan. No emails or messages from Ani. Fuck.
I don’t bother waiting for Antonio to open my door when we pull up at Max’s building. I jump out of the SUV, jogging up the stairs, barely giving the doorman time to open the door as I slide inside.
“Sir?” he calls after me, but I’m already at the elevator bank, jabbing at the button. The ride up is excruciating, but I finally arrive, striding to Max’s door, pounding on it, not caring that it’s still fucking early.
“Coming, coming!” Max calls out from inside the condo. “Fucking hell, calm down.”
Calm down? Ani could be fucking dead in Central Park right now! Max opens the door, stifling a yawn, and I shove inside while he blinks at me in shock.
“What is this? Grand Central Station?” he mutters under his breath. Whatever the fuck that means.
“I fucked up, Max. Bad.”
Suddenly, the fucker is grinning at me. “Oh, you mean by sleeping with Uncle Bill’s little designer?”
I glance over at him in shock, my panic momentarily forgotten. “You know about that?”
He snorts at me, wandering off to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I figured it out when she showed up on my doorstep last night in fucking tears.”
I blow out a breath of relief, my shoulders sagging. Thank fuck. Ani’s here. Wait, what? Ani’shere. And Max knew that we’d been sleeping together. And he didn’t even fuckingthinkto text me. He looks up in shock as I step up to him and shove him with all my might. Stumbling backward, he manages to grab hold of the kitchen island, so he doesn’t hit the ground.
“That fucking hurt,” he groans, glaring at me as he rubs his back. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Thanks for the fucking heads up. It was nice to know that she wasn’t fucking dead on the streets.”
