latest in technology and amenities, The Bellamy was a crown jewel in Royal.
And for the first time since stepping foot in the resort, his corporate credit card had been declined.
He downed another swallow of alcohol, the burn of it mingling with the fury that still seethed in his chest. Not only had his father banned him from the only home he’d ever known, but he’d cut him off financially. Trying to break him. To make him heel like a naughty puppy.
But he wasn’t anyone’s pet.
And he had resources and investments his father couldn’t touch. He’d use those to purchase a home for him, his son and Charlotte.
And he also had the name Rusty had given him. Ross had used that to place this stay on his own tab.
Turned out the one thing that was so important to Rusty, he couldn’t snatch away from Ross. He smirked down into the drink. The irony didn’t escape him.
“Ben is asleep.” Charlotte’s voice reached him, wrapping around his chest, sinking into him. With his back to her, he briefly closed his eyes, savoring that low, husky tone. “Considering it’s late, he didn’t put up much of a fight.” A small hand settled just below his shoulder blade. “Ross, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, not removing his stare from the amber alcohol.
She released an impatient sound that landed somewhere between a scoff and a tsk. “You’re not fine. How could you be?” She moved in front of him, and he lifted his head, meeting the concern in her brown eyes. “Listen, I know we’re feeling our way through being co-parents and possibly friends, but you can talk to me. Like you used to.”
“That’s when we were naked and sex had loosened my mouth,” he drawled. Yes, he was being an asshole. But agreeing to her staying with him had been a bad decision. He was too on edge. Too angry. Too raw. And with her scent teasing his nose, her beautiful eyes on him and that gorgeous body close, he was too reckless.
She had every right to snap at him for his crass reply. Instead, she silently studied him. And like a coward, he turned away, striding back over to the bar to refresh his drink. And avoid that piercing scrutiny.
“Now who’s spoiling for a fight?” she murmured, lobbing a variation of his words from the cabin back at him. “Classic Ross Edmond move,” she taunted.
Bile churned in his gut, but he shoved it back down, nursing the bitterness. Anger was better than the emasculating need to curl his arms around her and lean on her, until not every breath he took carried the ache of loneliness. “Lash out. Hurt before they can hurt you. Push away so no one can see that you actually feel. You told me it was presumptuous of me to claim I knew you. But some things haven’t changed in three years.”
He didn’t see her approach him again, but the thick, cream carpet couldn’t muffle her footsteps. And the hand that, once more, rested on his shoulder blade seemed to singe him through his shirt, branding him.
His movements turned jerky, and a little of the scotch spilled over the rim of the glass as he splashed the alcohol into the tumbler. Quickly recapping the decanter and smacking it back down on the bar, he seized the drink and downed a big swallow.
Only then did he step away from her—from her and the hand that he didn’t want on his back. No, he wanted those delicate, skillful fingers farther south. Wrapped around him. Squeezing him and trading one pain for another.
“I don’t want to fight, Charlotte. But I’m beginning to suspect maybe there’s another reason you’re out here pushing me. Maybe there’s something you want from me other than...honesty,” he said, sipping slower as he faced her. Making a show of scanning her from head to toe, his eyes drifted down the blue-and-white ruffled shirt and slim navy pants she’d changed into for the meeting with his family and to the tips of her black stilettos.
On the deliberate path back up all those delicious curves and dips, he struggled not to reveal how she affected him. Had him damn near trembling inside with the flare of heat and a need that burrowed deeper than simple lust. Fuck, what was he doing? What danger was he courting? In his current state, she was kindling thrown on an already simmering fire. It wouldn’t require much for the flames to rage higher, hotter