Diana’s heart thundered to a noisy halt. David had said that about her? Thinking back, she really couldn’t remember how David had introduced her to the other guests throughout the evening. She’d been so caught up in David, in the glitter of the evening, that she’d hadn’t focused on the empty conversations around her.
Perhaps you should have. You could have saved yourself from being his charity case all evening.
“David always has been generous with his time—”
“And his body. Damn…the things that man can do with his tongue….”
The voices died down as the women click-clacked back out the bathroom door, leaving a decimated Diana sitting on a throne of humiliation.
Stumbling from the stall, Diana couldn’t remember if she washed her hands before leaving the bathroom. Dazed and heartbroken, she leaned against the wall, attempting to gather her thoughts.
“Charity case…” the words dripped like tears from her lips.
Suddenly, a prickling rage began building in her gut until it grew into a full-blown blaze.
Fuck him! She wasn’t a charity case, she was the mother of his babies, the woman who had dealt with more loss, and accomplished more hard work in her life than any of those plastic women David preferred to be with.
Snagging the attention of a passing waiter, she intoned, “Please tell Mr. Brenner that his ‘charity case’ has gone home.” The man lifted his brows quizzically but nodded in acknowledgement before proceeding on his way, a tray balanced expertly in one hand.
Pulling her cell from her clutch, she clicked on the Uber app, requesting a car to pick her up down the block. She couldn’t stomach another moment with David, especially surrounded by people who thought she was as much a money grubber as all the women who’d come before. It wouldn’t matter that she was a ‘charity case,’ it still made her look like something out to get money, attention, or fame from an association with David Fucking Brenner, Billionaire asshole.
Gritting her teeth, she headed toward the door, immediately noticing the throng of paparazzi still gathered outside. They looked like a ravenous horde of zombies, hungry for the next hot scoop.
Well, she’d give them a hot scoop alright.
Straightening her spine and throwing her chin into the air, she pushed the doors open and stepped into the fray. Camera flashes and rapid-fire questions all hit her at once.
“Who are you?”
“Were you the one with David Brenner earlier?”
“Who are you to David Brenner?”
All good questions…which one to answer first. She forced a smile, eyes unfocused so she wouldn’t go blind.
“I am Diana Bluth, formerly a paralegal at Kilgore, Ayers, Beecham,” she answered loudly and calmly, giving herself an inner high five.
“Who are you to David Brenner?” Now that was the question of the evening, one she’d answer smartly.
“She is the mother of my children,” a familiar, deep voice announced from behind her, turning every bone in her body to pudding. She wouldn’t turn to look—she couldn’t.
The voices got louder then, the people moving closer until she could smell the miasma of the mixture of cologne, perfume, sweat, lies, and desperation.
As sickness rose in her throat, she forged ahead, pushing through the jostling bodies until she was out the other side. She hurried up the sidewalk toward where the Uber car was waiting for her. The paparazzi didn’t follow, the much juicer piece of meat was still there with them.
But why had he come out of the building, and why did he tell them about the babies? About her?
Her chest heaving with breaths and emotion, she practically jumped head first into the waiting Uber. Trying to catch her breath, she gave the friendly-looking man the direction to Margie’s condo. She refused to go back to the hotel. She couldn’t, not now, and not ever—if she had a choice.
You have no choice. He is the father of your babies, you cannot hide from him forever.
No, she couldn’t, but she’d be damned if she continued being his “charity case”—even though he was the one who forced everything on her. She was fine living with her mother and sister, looking for work, and budgeting to the last penny. Then he’d come along, blowing her plans and life right out of the water. He was the reason she was holed up in a luxury hotel room. He was the reason she had used his money to buy all those baby things—for his babies. He was the reason she was at the goddamn event where she had to overhear another woman talk about David’s gorgeous naked body, his generosity, and his tongue.
It made her sick, and not just because they were speaking about him as though he were nothing more than a piece of beef. It was also because she was jealous as hell…even though she had no right to be.
She wasn’t his girlfriend, his lover, or even his friend—though up until the incident in the bathroom, she’d hoped they were.
So much for being partners.
Her phone beeped, announcing an incoming text.
DAVID: WHERE DID YOU GO, DIANA?
She wouldn’t answer him. He didn’t deserve to know.
DAVID: THAT WAS A NASTY THING YOU DID, MAKING ME TELL THOSE SHARKS ABOUT YOUR PREGNANCY.
Rage choked her. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on! He didn’t have to do anything! He didn’t have to follow her out into the throng of photographers. He didn’t have to open his mouth and say a goddamn thing. Yeah, she was considering telling them that she was David’s baby momma, but she decided against it. Her babies weren’t tabloid fodder, they were her treasures, the most precious things in her life.
DAVID: YOU CANNOT AVOID ME, DIANA. I WILL BE AT THE SUITE THIS EVENING. WAIT UP. WE **WILL** BE HAVING A CONVERSATION.
She gave his text the finger. She wouldn’t be there, and David could bluster and bellow into the empty hotel suite until his face turned blue. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t hurt her.
Because, fool
