dressed in?”
“Jogging pants and a plain t-shirt.”
My reaction was immediate. It felt like someone had poured lava into my veins. My entire body heated at the image her description gave me. I froze, my vision blurring a bit with incredulity.
It was just a coincidence.
“What else?” I asked, my voice hardly above a whisper.
“He had tattoos.”
I swallowed hard, shaking. “Tattoos?”
“All down his arm, and the reason I think you know him is because I think…”
“You think what?” I bristled.
“I think I read your name on his neck.”
I stormed past her, feeling my legs wobble as I went.
“Where was he?” I shouted behind me.
Annika ran up to my side, looking panicked. “He was near the bar when I found him.”
I emerged from the corridor and stared directly at the bar. There was no man with that description there. I spun in a slow circle, taking in every face and body, but none were him.
Could it have been him?
Logic said no, it was still too early.
But then again, perhaps…
“Charlotte,” Annika pressed, “do you know who he was?”
I didn’t answer.
If I spoke my thoughts out loud, it might give me hope, and I couldn’t afford to be crushed. Not again.
I raced to the exit, demanding the guard to let me through. He opened it and I stepped into the entry room. All three men looked to me, taking in my distraught state.
I stared at Jim, demanding, “Did Conor Thames come through the door?”
Jim pursed his lips, frowning at me. “I’m not allowed to say who came and went, Miss Miles.”
“Jim,” I hissed in distress, “don’t fuck with me. Did you open the door for him?”
“You know I follow Locke’s orders.”
Through clenched teeth, I demanded once more, “Was he Conor Thames or not?”
“It was Conor,” a voice said from behind me.
I turned around to see Dorothy standing at the threshold, a silk robe covering her body. “I was dancing when he showed up. We locked eyes.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I was going to pass out if I didn’t breathe.
“Are you sure, Dorothy?” I implored, desperately.
She nodded solemnly. “Who could forget a face like Conor Thames?”
Chapter Five
Charlotte
I seethed in the car, chewing on my nail, aware more than ever he was watching me from the corner of his eye. The cheeky asshole had the audacity to smirk at me.
“Yeah, keep smiling,” I growled. “Like I can’t see that.”
“You’re wound up tight.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“I don’t even remember her.”
I’d held my tongue the entire night since the incident. Since we’d seen the random bitch try her moves on my man like I didn’t exist. Like I wasn’t heavily pregnant and carrying his fucking baby.
“Did you do anything to discourage her?” I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Yeah, I told her to fuck off,” he answered swiftly, looking so damned relaxed. “You were right there, dove. So was Jem. So was everyone at the bar.”
“I’m tired of feeling like another number.”
“The last thing you are is another number.”
“Try being in a place I’ve fucked half the town in.”
I didn’t know what had come over me, but I hadn’t been that angry in a very long time. Jealousy sat heavy at the pit of my belly. Tears spotted my vision. These hormones were making me into a crazy person.
Right away, Conor pulled the car over on the side of the road. He looked at me, the smirk now gone, as if he was just realizing how serious I was being. His mood had immediately shifted, and he appeared conflicted.
“Charlotte,” he whispered contritely, “I’m sorry.”
I blinked back tears, looking down at my lap. He was being so understanding, and I had just lost my cool. He didn’t deserve that.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I mumbled back, shrugging. “I’m hormonal as hell right now, Conor.”
“You have every right to be upset with me.” He took my hand into his, rubbing his thumb tenderly over my palm. “If I knew you existed before I’d been with anyone, I would have waited for you.”
I looked at him dryly. “Sure you would.”
He looked dead serious, though. “If you only knew for just one second what I felt for you, Charlotte, you wouldn’t be so sceptical. I’m being serious. I would have waited my whole life for you. I wouldn’t have been such a fuck up.”
“You’re not, Conor –”
“No, I am,” he cut in, sounding resolute. “I know what a piece of shit I’ve been. I’m not proud of my mistakes. I’m fucking tired of being the tough guy. With this baby on