Touching the Billionaire - Holly Jaymes Page 0,40
to me and two, it seemed like a pretty shitty thing to do to Madeline. She accepted that that was what I had to do, but I could tell she didn’t like the idea of it. Perhaps maybe she was getting too attached as well. Which brought me back around to the fact that this story going public and forcing us apart, at this point was a good thing.
That night I called Blaine to go out with me to the club. He knew the purpose of this outing and would be a good wingman. He would help me look the part of the swinging bachelor but would also be able to help me get out of a sticky situation with a woman expecting to go home with me.
The music was thumping loud. The lights were too bright. But I did my duty and drank and danced. There were many women in New York who didn’t give a shit that I was supposedly seeing Madeline Fox. A couple of them even told me they would be able to make me feel better than Madeline ever could. I tried not to roll my eyes and instead smiled and I tried to waggle my brows like that sounded intriguing when inside I felt like puking.
The whole thing made me feel dirty and disgusting, and the more I drank to get rid of that feeling, the more it seemed to grow.
“Okay, lover boy, we should probably get you home,” Blaine said, hoisting me out of my seat when I downed another shot.
“I need to make goo-goo eyes at women,” I said. At least I thought I said it. I couldn’t understand my own words.
“Your eyes are too glassy to goo-goo. You’re three sheets to the wind, Theo. Let’s get you home and into bed.”
I was drunk. Well, that explained my inability to stand up straight. It also might have explained the feeling like I needed to puke. It didn’t explain why my chest felt like a boulder was sitting on it.
We got into a car and the driver drove us back to my condo building. Blaine walked with me, or more accurately, held me upright and dragged me into the building and elevator, riding up with me to the twentieth floor. I looked at the eighth-floor button longingly, wishing I could stop and see Madeline.
When we reached the twentieth floor, Blaine hauled me out toward my apartment. I gave him my key and he let us in, dumping me on the couch.
“I’ll make you some coffee and get you some water,” he said, leaving me on the couch as he walked to my kitchen.
“Why does the world give a shit about who I fuck?” I asked, laying my head back on the couch and willing the room to stop spinning.
“It’s the nature of the beast,” Blaine called from the kitchen.
“It's creepy,” I called back to him. He returned to the living room, carrying a glass of water and a bottle of pain medication.
“Men want to be you and women want to fuck you. That’s the cost of being Theo Wolfe.”
“I’m tired of paying.” I took the water and the pills that he handed me, swallowing them both and then once again laying my head back on the couch. Blaine sat in a chair across from me, studying me for a minute. “What?”
He shrugged. “I’m just trying to decide if this thing between you and Madeline Fox is real and that’s why you’re acting like this.”
“No. It’s not like that. I’m just sick of having to act all fucking day, every day of the week. I act in the movies. I shouldn’t have to act in my real life.”
“Then don’t. You didn’t seem to mind it before when you would march around town like a tomcat. You’re a big enough star now that it doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you murder somebody or something, almost nothing you do will hurt your career.”
“What about her career?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You sure have a lot of concern about Madeline Fox’s career. Are you sure there is nothing going on between you two?”
“I just don’t want to hurt her career before it has a chance to get going again.” I scraped my hands over my face and let out an expletive. “Look, man, I’ve to go to bed.”
“Does that mean you don't want the coffee? Because I think it’s about done brewing,” Blaine said, standing.
“I’ll take a cup and then I’m going to bed.” I managed to