Gilt_ By Invitation Only - Geneva Lee Page 0,17
as I scrape up what’s left of my pride. No note but my dress is neatly folded and waiting for me on the table next to my phone. It doesn’t score Jameson any brownie points, but it keeps him in the neutral zone which is exactly where he belongs. Time to suck it up and do the walk of shame through enemy territory.
My phone vibrates with an incoming text and I grab it, but it isn’t from Josie.
Mom: See you at 10!
I check the clock. 9:01. The right curse word hasn’t been invented for this scenario, so I blurt all the other ones in existence as I tug my dress on. Gathering my shoes, I tiptoe back inside, praying to every god in history that Monroe isn’t a morning person. I pass the dirty pots from last night on my way out, assuaging my guilt by reminding myself that the West’s have a full hotel staff at their beck and call. The house is deadly silent, but I can almost imagine the orgy of passed out classmates I would find if I dared to return to the scene of the party. I’m smarter than to press my luck. The door to the study is ajar and I pause only long enough to feel stupid. There’s no way Jameson is hanging around here.
“You could have woken me up,” I grumble under my breath, but thinking of him recalls flashes of our night together. I’d almost given in to my desire but somehow I had clung to my integrity. The fact doesn’t really take the sting out of waking up alone though.
Coming around the corner, two groggy faces greet me.
“Morning, sunshine,” Hugo calls. Jonas just looks confused.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to join them. Unless I want to go to brunch smelling like chlorine with raccoon eyes, I don’t have the luxury of waiting around. Also getting the hell out of here seems like a pretty good idea.
“You are looking ravaged this morning,” Hugo says. “Who’s the lucky man? The bell boy?”
I keep my eyes trained on the glowing, down button. What is the point of having a private elevator if you have to wait?
“Shut up, man,” Jonas mutters. “Hey Em, you need a ride home?”
I glance at the sliver of green left on my cell’s battery status. I can’t call Josie—even if she’d pick up. It will be dead before I can get an Uber. “I can take a cab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you,” he protests.
“What a gentleman,” Hugo says. “First, you sleep on the couch and now you’re offering rides to the peasants.”
“A cab is not an issue,” I say through gritted teeth. The elevator dings and Jonas holds the door until I wander inside.
“I insist. Hugo’s headed to the airport anyway. I can drop you before I take him.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Hugo butts in.
“Please, I will pay you to stop fighting him on this. I can’t handle all the polite tension.” He steps between us, folding his arms over his chest and watching the floor numbers descending. “So how was your evening?”
“I fell asleep.” I’m not giving him more than that. An inch is more than enough for Hugo Roth to hang me with. “I was waiting for Josie and I got tired.”
None of that is technically a lie, which means neither of them question it. The only way to salvage any of last night is if Hugo Roth never finds out that I nearly hooked up with some random guy in Monroe West’s cabana.
“Josie was here?” Jonas asks slowly. “I didn’t see her.”
“That makes two of us.” When I finally did find my prodigal friend, I was going to put a tracking device on her.
“Who’s Josie?” Hugo asks, looking at both of us.
A sigh in disgust, but Jonas answers him. “She’s in our class, man.”
He shrugs, satisfied by this answer. That’s all he needs to know. If Josie ever did make it onto his radar, he’d be all over her. That’s just how guys are around her. The last thing I need is for her to trade in her daddy fetish for a dickhead phase.
“Why’d you even stay last night?” Hugo asks and I realize he’s not talking to me. “After Monroe went ballistic like that.”
“I wanted to make sure she was okay.” Jonas glances at me. “She just gets anxious sometimes.”
“I’d call that her permanent state of being,” Hugo says flatly.
I barely manage to cover my laughter with a fake