“I am honored to create another piece for your hotel,” he says, ever the charmer.
“Another Chance Bateman original. It’s the centerpiece to this lobby.” She’s right. It’s stunning. What was a hunk of metal and trash only weeks ago, is now eye-catching, unique art. I may have given him shit about the bottle caps, but they really make the piece.
“I know the expedited timeline wasn’t easy to accommodate,” she says, smiling between us. “I’m sure Jude passed on my token of appreciation.” A five-thousand-dollar bonus.
“Yes, he did.” Chance lifts his glass. “Thank you.”
We toast and offer our well wishes to her new venture, though it’s not needed. Darlene’s business savvy makes all of her projects profitable investments. I should feel fortunate to be in the room of successful people; gratitude or self-appreciation at the very least. But instead, a deep dissatisfaction seeps into my mind. None of this matters. Not really. Not anymore.
Not without her.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna head out,” I say to Chance when Darlene moves on to chat with another guest.
“Jude.” He lifts his brows and glances around. He doesn’t say it, but I know he wants to. I’m bailing too early. This event is perfect for courting new clients, for making connections, and otherwise enjoying the fruits of my labor.
“Stay. You should be here. I’ll catch an Uber,” I say.
Chance blows out a breath, his disagreement obvious.
“Excuse me. Jude Lawrence, right?” A woman interrupts, touching my suit jacket. It’s Cora Bentley, an actress, a very popular one, and personal friends with Trent Donovan. She’s the person he passed Rachel’s information to when I called him for connections in the industry. She’s tall, blonde, and exactly the type of woman I would have been interested in before Rachel. Hell, she probably knows Rachel.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.”
“The same.” Her face brightens with a smile. “Do you have a second?” I don’t know if she wants to know for professional reasons, or personal. My bet is the latter, and I can’t get away fast enough.
“I’m sorry, I don’t,” I say. “I was just leaving.”
“Wait.” She hands me an envelope. “Please read this before you go. It’s important.” The way she put emphasis on important causes me to pause. There’s no sexual innuendo to her words or actions. It’s that and the fact she turns away without another word that feeds my curiosity. I’ve been handed hotel keys before. This isn’t a proposition.
“Open it already,” Chance says.
I grit my teeth, wanting to tell him to fuck off, but focus my irritable energy into ripping open the envelope. Inside is a note and a hotel key. My interest deflates like a balloon stabbed with a needle. I hand them over to Chance, annoyed at myself for anticipating anything different. “I’m out of here.” I pass through the crowded lobby and pull out my phone to request a ride.
Fuck this night. Fuck getting over Rachel. Maybe this was my penance. A lifetime of discontent for deceiving the woman I love.
“Jude!” Chance jogs out to the drive. His gaze lands on mine, eyes wide and expectant. “Jude, wait!”
“What?” My pulse races at his wild expression. Maybe it’s something with Aubrey?
“You need to get upstairs. Now.” There’s no question in his voice.
I shake my head, confused.
“Room 612. Here’s the key.”
“Chance. I’m not in the mood.” I push away the key he offers. There’s no way. I’m not sleeping with anyone, let alone some celebrity hookup.
“Mate.” His voice is stern. His scowl fierce. “You don’t understand. You need to be in this hotel room. You’ll regret it the rest of your life if you don’t.” There’s something in his delivery that catches my attention. Plants a seed of faith in my heart. It’s almost too much to hope for.
I lift my gaze; my lips part but words escape me.
He nods, as if he understands. “612. Go get her back.”
This time I take the card when he shoves it in my hand. I nearly trip over my feet as I race back inside the hotel. Not caring how insane I must appear, I run through the lobby, only stopping briefly to ride the elevator. My chest heaves and I’m out of breath when I stop in front of the door marked 612. Fuck, I’m out of shape. And nervous. My hands shake as I scan the key on the door and turn the handle to open it.
There she is. “Rachel.” Her name falls from my lips as a whisper. A prayer. A promise.
“Jude.” She smiles, but it’s reserved. Timid. She’s wearing one of my favorite dresses. The wrap kind that hugs all her curves. Her makeup is perfect, no surprise there, and her wide eyes don’t leave mine as I step inside. “You came.”
“How could I not?”
She swallows thickly. “I didn’t want to disrupt your party, or your big moment, but I couldn’t go another day.”
It’s almost too much to hope for. “Another day?”
“Without you.”
“Rachel.” I want to fall to my knees. I want to cry in relief. I want to pull her in my arms.
“I have something I want you to see.” She blows out a long exhale, her lips twitching with a nervous smile. “Please tell me you have your phone with you.”
“I do.” I pull it from my jacket and hand it over. She pulls up YouTube and before I can ask, she hands it back. It’s her, and this is her channel. I turn up the volume as the headline of the video fills the screen. How to create the perfect I’m sorry, I love you, evening look.
My stomach does a little flip, and emotion fills my chest. I glance at Rachel as her face fills the screen, and take a seat on the edge of the sofa.
“Hey, Rae here with all your makeup and beauty tips.” She’s sitting in front of a white wall, bright lights illuminating her face, and a mirror to one side. The dark circles
