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But he cuts me off, his face covered in crazy desperation. “You have to deny it, Amalia. Do it, please. Empire needs to go public and deny I wrote the book. Call the papers. All of them. Say I’ve never seen it before in my life. Say it’s some kind of hoax. You know, a joke. Like ha-ha, gotcha. That will smooth things over. I know it will. We’ll be back to where we started.”
Is he kidding?
“Levi, I… we can’t do that?—”
“You can, Amalia. You can.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I never thought Levi would be the kind of man to run from his problems. To hide behind lies.
And to expect me to tell them for him.
My stomach churns and all I can think is I need to get out of here. At this moment I hate everything—myself, my life, the guys, my profession, and every single person walking down the street. If someone so much as looks at me wrong, I’m afraid I’ll come out swinging.
Rage crawls under my skin and I’m so uncomfortable I want to get away from myself. This is fucked on so many levels.
I look at Henry and Wyatt, who just look back at me.
I knew it. I knew they’d take Levi’s side. I’m sure they want me to lie for him, just like he does. But I have news for them, all three. I’m done lying. I’ve had enough of this bullshit, trying to force things into place that never belonged to begin with.
And that starts with me. I was never meant to be with these men. It was a fluke, our hooking up. Nothing more than that. A few nights of fun. Something to remember.
And it’s over now.
I head for the door.
“Amalia, don’t leave,” Wyatt says.
I snap my gaze in his direction. “I never should have bothered with any of you. As soon as I learned Ryder Night was really Levi, I should have kept that to myself and not let the manuscript see the light of day. And I certainly should never have gotten involvedphysicallywith any of you.”
I press the elevator call button, and the doors immediately open.
“I’m done with all of you. Goodbye.”
I look at my reflection in the elevator mirror and don’t recognize the angry, tired woman looking back at me.
I don’t know who she is. And I don’t want to.
47
Wyatt
It wasmy idea to escape to the Caribbean with the guys for a few days, but it’s not accomplishing its intended purpose.
Jamaica’s a tropical paradise for sure, but it so happens that right now it’s also having its biggest heatwave in decades. So, while Levi and I have braved the heat and humidity for a quick walk to the beach, Henry’s stayed indoors with the air conditioning at full blast, watching all the old Jeopardy reruns he can find.
Not what we planned on. Not at all.
“I hate the feel of sand on my feet,” I say, kicking off my flip flops for the final few steps to the tepid ocean.
I’m not much of a beach person. Never have been. But I brought the guys here to chill the fuck out. It’s not working.
While there are people in the water, there’s hardly anybody on the beach itself. And the resort pool is pretty much deserted too. The only comfortable places are in the rooms or in the water. Not even the restaurants have AC.
“What’s wrong with you, dude?” Levi asks. “I love the sand between my toes.” He grinds his feet into it just to show how much he loves it.
I run after him to the water’s edge, hoping I make it before I pass out. And when the gentle waves hit me, it’s a fucking relief. But not nearly enough. I dive into the first wave to come my way and stay underwater as long as my breath will let me.
When I surface, I see Levi about ten feet away. Some local kids have followed him into the water and are pressuring him to let them braid his hair for a fee. When they’re finally convinced they will never, ever get to braid his hair, they switch to trying to sell him some weed. That elicits a big no as well, and when they see me watching, amused, they head right in my direction.
