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Chapter Twenty-Two
Jayden
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IWOKE FROM A TROUBLEDsleep with thudding in my temples and a throbbing face. I managed to ease open one gritty eye and swiftly shut it again as daylight hit the back of my eyeball.
My mouth tasted sour from the amount of alcohol I’d consumed, and the only way I’d feel vaguely tolerable was if I started drinking again. Unfortunately, I had a distinct memory of draining my last whiskey bottle dry during the early hours, so if I wanted more booze, I was going to need to leave the penthouse.
Then I remembered I lived in a hotel. I could call up fucking room service if I wanted.
I hated that I was conscious again. All I wanted was to vanish back into sleep.
There were times I dreamed of her, where we were back together again, and the terrible thing that had happened had been the dream—no, the nightmare. We made love, and I’d praise her while I was fucking her until she’d climaxed, and then I’d come, too, and the intensity of it would wake me. Then I’d discover myself alone and broken-hearted, and with sheets wet with cum.
I struggled to see what the point was of me being in the world. The only reason I could think of was being here for Hallie and my niece, but even then I wondered if they were better off without me. What if I did something that hurt them in the same way I’d managed to hurt Ivy?
During the days and weeks after it had happened, I’d expected Greyson and Aiden Gilligan to come for me. I’d been ready for them, too—but I wouldn’t have fought back. I’d have stood there with my arms open wide and let them do what they wanted. Then they hadn’t come, and I could only assume Ivy had something to do with that. Had she begged for my life? If so, did that mean she still felt something for me?
The Cornells were losing their patience with me, and I couldn’t say I blamed them. I hadn’t shown up for any of the business meetings I’d put in place the previous month and didn’t bother to return any calls. They’d cut me some slack at first, but I didn’t know how long that would last.
I didn’t even care.
The nasty taste in my mouth made me want to gag, so I forced my eyes open again and managed to drag my sorry arse into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stood beneath the water, letting it run over the top of my head. I closed my eyes against the flow, water rolling over my eyelids, dripping off my lashes. I thought of the number of times I’d fucked Ivy in this shower, how beautiful she’d always looked with her skin wet and flushed, her hair dripping down her back.
Blood rushed to my cock, and I forced the thought away. Making myself come with a head full of images of her was like the worst possible torture. All it did was remind me of what I’d never have, and it tore my heart from my chest all over again.
I washed myself down and then got out of the shower and scrubbed my teeth. I felt a little closer to human now, so at least I could go out in public. I didn’t want to use room service to bring me up a bottle of something, aware the staff would talk.
I threw on some clothes and raked my fingers through my wet hair. I appeared decent enough for someone to serve me alcohol, and not some homeless person on the street who clearly had a drinking problem.
The buzzer sounded for the lift.
I didn’t even care who was here—definitely not enough to bother checking who it was. If it was someone here to put an end to me, I’d most likely greet them with open arms. I allowed the lift to rise and waited for the doors to open. In a way, it would be a blessing if there was an armed man on the other side of those doors.
But, as they slid open, it wasn’t a man standing there but a beautiful young woman with wavy blonde hair and bright-blue eyes. She had lost weight since I’d last seen her, her cheekbones sharp, her eyes even more soulful than before. She was so tiny and fragile, I almost wanted to shut the lift doors again, if only to protect her from me.
“Ivy?”
