fundraiser was the fucking worst. I’d only stopped by briefly to drop something off to Moss, who was in one of the hotel suites; I’d done my best not to see Chelsea, but there she fucking was. And she was asking if I was okay after hearing me talk to my mum. That fucking threw me. I wanted to tell her no I wasn’t fucking okay. I wanted to tell her I needed her. But she made it crystal clear the day before that I wasn’t hers anymore, so I told her to fuck off instead. That was after spending every day this week waking up thinking about being inside her, battling to get through the day without thinking about her again, and then closing my eyes to images of her at night. I should never have fucked her on Monday. Touching her and tasting her has brought her screaming back into my head, twisting shit right up.
“Thanks for your help, brother,” Wilder says an hour later, after we’ve helped him sort out the assholes who turned up to Trilogy looking for trouble. It was a guy and a bunch of his friends there to give his ex and her new boyfriend grief. She cheated on him with the new guy, and he seems hell-bent on revenge. It all hit too fucking close to home for me; I wanted to take his side.
“You heading over to Scott’s after you’re finished here?” J asks him.
“Wilder, we need to talk,” Scarlett says, entering his office, interrupting us.
“Christ, what now, Scarlett?” Wilder mutters.
She scowls. Nothing new there; she spends most of her time scowling at him. “Don’t be a dick. I told you two hours ago that we had a problem with the reservations and you said you’d deal with it, and you didn’t, and now we’ve got a family of ten pissed off because it’s their daughter’s birthday and we don’t have a table for them to celebrate it.”
Wilder runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”
Scarlett arches her brows in an “I told you” expression. “Yeah.”
“Have you tried to rearrange shit to make it work?” he asks.
Her brow arch turns into the kind of expression every man knows means imminent death. “Do I look like a fucking idiot?”
He works his jaw. Wilder’s in charge here, but Scarlett gives no fucks about authority. She challenges him often. I like her, but fuck, I’d want to kill her if I had to work with her. How Wilder’s survived her this long is beyond me. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Good.” With that, she stalks back out to the front of the restaurant.
“Have fun with that,” J says. “And by that, I mean Scarlett.”
“I doubt I’ll make it to Scott’s later,” Wilder says. “It’s been a long fuckin’ day here and I’m not feelin’ in the mood for people.”
“Yeah,” J says. “I wouldn’t either if I had to work with Scarlett.”
“Jesus,” Wilder grumbles. “She’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, brother.”
My phone sounds with a text.
Alexa: I need your help. Stat! Call me when you get this.
I look at J. “I’ve gotta make a call.”
He nods, and I head outside to call Alexa.
“Oh my God, thank you for calling!” she says, sounding like I’ve just saved her life or some shit.
“What’s up?”
“I’m down the coast for the weekend and lost my credit card last night when I was drunk. I need you to go to my place and grab my emergency card from the safe and bring it to me. Please!”
“Jesus, Alexa, how the fuck do you keep losing that card?” This isn’t the first time this has happened. My sister might be more responsible than me, but she sure as shit is good at losing her credit card.
“Shut up. I didn’t mean to lose it.”
“You want me to drive down the coast now? Are you with anyone who can lend you some cash?”
“No, I don’t want to ask anyone for money. Please. I will love you forever.”
“You already love me forever.” Fuck, heading down the coast is the last fucking thing I want to do right now.
“Well, I’ll love you longer than forever. We’re about to go to the day spa for the afternoon. I’ll be there when you get here.”
“I love how you assume I’m going to do this,” I mutter.
“I love you, Mace. See you soon.”
She ends the call, and a moment later, a text comes through from her telling me where she is.
Fucking hell. How the hell do I get roped into this