wearing a little cream-colored dress with a scoop neck and the black pumps Ben has gotten me. I felt cute but a little unsure. I hated how working around models caused me to constantly need reassurance from Ben that I was enough. I turned away from the mirror, frustrated. I just wanted to find him.
Reemerging into the night air, I scanned the rooftop for Ben. It should have been easy to spot him in the large, open, rectangular area. I saw Fiona talking to Braydon where I’d left him but no sign of Ben anywhere. Where had he gone? I noticed two girls exit the rooftop through a door I assumed was a stairwell into the hotel, so I decided to follow them.
The girls headed down the flight of stairs, gripping the banister as they navigated the steps, wobbling on their stiletto heels. I followed them inside one of the hotel’s top-floor suites. It seemed the party had slipped into this space, too. Club music thumped in the background, and the kitchen counter was littered with liquor bottles, lime wedges, and mixers.
People stood talking in the living room, mostly girls in too-short cocktail dresses that were no doubt freezing outside. I crossed through the room, still not finding Ben. Blood pumped erratically in my veins as I realized a hotel suite also meant bedrooms . . . and if Ben wasn’t on the roof, and he wasn’t in the living room . . . Oh God . . . I felt weak, but I pushed my legs into action, heading down the hallway.
There were three doors—two were open, revealing an empty bathroom and a bedroom, and the third door was closed.
Not hearing any sounds from inside, I reached for the knob. It felt cool in my palm. I turned it slowly and pushed the door open. The lights were on but the room was empty. At the far end of the room a sliding-glass door was open; the sound of voices from the balcony outside drew me forward.
My stomach danced with nerves and my heartbeat thrummed dangerously fast in my chest. I was terrified of what I might find, but I had to know.
“Are you honestly saying you don’t miss me at all?” a female voice asked.
“London . . .” Ben’s voice answered, his tone a playful warning. “I didn’t say that.”
She laughed a soft, calculated laugh—the laugh of a woman used to getting exactly what she wanted. “Because no one fucks like you, Ben.”
“That’s a good point.” He chuckled.
“We had fun together, right?” Her voice had dropped lower, gone all sultry.
“London . . .” His was a soft plea.
I couldn’t listen anymore but rather than exit gracefully, I turned and slammed right into the glass balcony door, rattling it loudly. Ben turned suddenly and caught my eyes. “Emmy.”
I fled, feeling the first of the tears already threatening to spill over. I retreated the way I’d come, back toward the living room. I would hail a cab back to the hotel. Alone. Ben and London trailed behind me, and once we reached the living room I ran smack into Braydon.
He reached out to steady me, gripping my upper arms. “Jellybean? You okay?”
He must have come in search of us, and unfortunately he’d brought Fiona with him, too. More people had crowded the living room, like the party was slowly but surely moving inside. Braydon’s gaze wandered behind me to Ben and London and he winced. He must have known all about their history.
“Emmy . . .” Ben reached for me. “That was nothing, just London and I catching up. I promise you.”
London stepped closer on precariously high heels. Her dress, if you could call it that, was a swatch of red satin that barely covered the important bits. Plenty of cleavage, incredibly long legs, long blonde hair, and that red lipstick I’d noticed on the glass earlier. Tears blurred my eyes, but what I did see of her was stunning.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any drama,” London spoke up, sounding sincere. “I’m London.” She offered me her hand.
Oh God, she was nice, too. I just stood there, uselessly staring at her hand. Ben stepped closer.
“This is Emmy, my girlfriend.”
Fiona made a strangled cry at hearing the word
“Nice to meet you. I’ve never known Ben to have a girlfriend.” London smiled widely at me.
“Ben?” Fiona’s raspy, accented voice pierced the awkward silence. No one said anything for several long moments, but I could see tears filling Fiona’s eyes. She and Ben watched each other intently, her features awash in hurt. A second later, Fiona turned and fled, elbowing partygoers out of her way as she made a mad dash for the front door.
Ben gave me a sympathetic look then darted out after her.
Watching him go after Fiona felt like a knife was being shoved into my chest. After hiding me from Fiona all this time, he chose this horribly tense moment to announce that we were together, and then ran out after her?
My heart stopped.
I felt sick. Sicker than I had when I heard his flirty banter with London.
Black spots clouded my vision. Oh fuck, I was going to pass out.
Braydon’s hand lightly stroked my lower back and kept me from collapsing. London still watched me curiously, and the hush that fell over the room told me several others were too.
“Get me out of here, Bray,” I whispered.
His warm arm encircled my waist and he guided me away from the carnage.
The party on the rooftop had died down significantly, with just a few people lingering. Braydon led me to an out-of-the-way seating area in the corner. I stopped by the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack and two glasses. His brows shot up but he said nothing and motioned to a couple of plush chairs situated around a stone fire pit.
I sank into the chair and poured us each a healthy measure of whiskey. I wasn’t near drunk enough to deal with all the confusing feelings Ben stirred up within me. I’d told him I loved him, and he’d said nothing . . . and now tonight I catch him flirting with his ex—who, oh, happened to be a supermodel. Then there was Fiona. I gulped the liquor, just wanting to feel numb.
“Whoa, easy there, jellybean.” Braydon’s hand on mine stopped me from pouring too much into my already-empty glass.
I leaned back into the plush cushions, kicked off my heels, and rested my feet in Braydon’s lap.
“Are you cold?” He started to remove his suit jacket.
I waved him off. “I’m fine. The fire helps.” Little blue flames danced from the rocks inside the elegant gas fireplace, gently warming the air around us.
“Tell me how I can help. You want me to kick his ass?” Braydon asked finally.
I’d really just wanted some company while I got intoxicated, but his willingness to help made me smile. “You’d do that? I thought you two were friends.”
He shrugged. “We are, but I like you better. You have better tits.”
I still couldn’t believe I’d had sex with Braydon. That was random. “Nah . . . you better not. His face is his money maker. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for taking down his career. Of course, if you wanted to chop off his . . .” I glanced at Braydon.
“Baby maker?”
“Yeah.” I laughed for the first time that night. “That’d be fine with me.”
“I don’t know what that was with London earlier. I know he thinks with his dick most of the time, but he’s different with you, Emmy. You have to see that.”
I thought it over silently. I wondered if he was over London. She seemed like she was looking to get lucky tonight. “How many women did you and Ben share?”
Bray looked down. I could tell he didn’t want to betray guy code by telling me their secrets, but I also trusted he’d be honest with me. “Just Fiona and one other. A girl named Mia.”
So they hadn’t shared London. Interesting. “Was Mia a model, too?”
Braydon shook his head. “No, she was a girl in New York that Ben dated briefly.”
I winced. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse that she wasn’t a model. It might have been worse, because I liked the idea of being the first.
“For the record, I think he only shared to avoid getting too close to girls . . . he’s never been the type to want a relationship.”
The whiskey was working too well already, and suddenly I wished I was sober for this conversation. Did
