No way I’m taking that bet.
My throat tightens as anxiety takes hold.
I cannot spend the night with Miles in this absurd love nest. It’s too much. But if I don’t follow through, my career as an influencer will be over before it even gets started.
Because if I bail, there’s a good chance my followers will do the same.
Or worse, they’ll drag me for being a lying liar.
I draw a slow breath and release it as Miles moves to the couch and drops our bags.
“It could be worse,” he finally says.
“Could it, though? Because I’ve got to be honest, I have my doubts.”
“It could have roaches. Or bed bugs. Or—”
“Stop!” I don’t want to know what’s worse than bed bugs. Just the thought has a shudder racking my spine.
He grins. “It has a hot tub.”
True. But like everything else in this room, it’s cringe. Honestly, who needs a red heart-shaped hot tub?
“And the folded towel animals on the bed are welcoming.”
The white towels are folded to look like two swans kissing, their necks forming the shape of a heart.
“At least they’re not red.” I sigh and drag the back of my hand across my forehead. “You’re right. We shouldn’t panic. I’m sure we can stage a few decent pics.”
Ones that don’t suggest we’re living our best lives in a tacky no-tell motel.
“Let’s get this over with.”
“What’s the rush?” He holds up the bottle of champagne. I’m no connoisseur, but even I can tell it’s the cheap stuff. “You’ve been working your ass off. You deserve a night to relax.”
I shoot him a wry smile. “Where was this Miles when we were burning the candle at both ends before the last investor meeting?”
“Rumor has it his head was shoved so far up his ass he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s one theory.” He grins and moves to a small black wet bar where two champagne flutes sit next to an empty ice bucket.
“Do you think he’ll be making a return?”
I shouldn’t be asking. It won’t change anything.
But I have to know.
“Only time will tell.” He peels back the foil on the champagne and pops the cork. It explodes from the bottle and flies across the room, landing on the carpet as white foam spills onto the counter. “After all, talk is cheap.”
My stupid heart flutters, clearly reading too much into the words. It’s a luxury my brain can’t afford. Not if I want to get Miles out of my system once and for all.
He fills two glasses and offers me one.
I take it, nervous energy coiling low in my belly.
“What are we drinking to?” I ask, hating the way my voice warbles.
