Iwas sure she was going to be gonewhen I gotback. That the only thing waiting for me would be hotel security but ten minutes later, when I walked through the door with an ice pack and some antiseptic, the only thing waiting for me was Millie.
She’s sitting on the side of her bed, looking at her phone. She must’ve rescued it from the living room as soon as I left.
“Do I have time to administer first aide before I get arrested for kidnapping,” I ask from the doorway, only half kidding.
When she hears me, her head comes up. “I think the most they could charge you with at this point is unlawful imprisonment,” she says, giving me a flat smile. Setting her phonedown, she watches me while I make my way toward her. “And destruction of property.”
“Sorry,” I tell her, glancing at her phone. The screen is cracked but it still looks operational. “I’ll buy you a new one.” Dragging the chair from the corner, I position it in front of her before sitting. “I’m also sorry for?—”
“Getting drunk and breaking into my room?” She finishes for me, hitting me with that cool, detached tone that drives me crazy.
“I already told you Manuka, this ismyroom—” Reaching for her, I pull her hand into my lap so I can assess the damage. She caught me with a few good ones. I’m surprised she didn’t break it. “Didn’t you see my clothes in the bathroom? Or maybe notice that the shower had been used?”
“I did but I just thought that maybe…” Looking chastised, Millie pulls her lower lip between her teeth and shrugs. “From what I can tell, there are about a hundred Gilroys here. I just figured one of them used this room to get ready for the gala.”
Smoothing my thumb over her palm, I let out a quiet scoff. “Because I was the last person you expected to see tonight.”
“Well, I might have if you’d told me that you know Conner Gilroy,” she counters her tone sharpening slightly like I kept something important from her.
Gingerly setting the ice pack in her palm, I look up at her. “I grew up with the Gilroys,” I say, giving her the shortened version of the convoluted mess that explains how I got here. “I told you I was from Boston the night we met, remember? We lived in the same neighborhood. Went to school together. His dad coached our city league ball team. His mom drove us to practice.”
“Yougrew upwith Conner Gilroy?” For a second Millie just stares up at me. “You’re friends?”
“Yes. No…” Struggling to explain it I give her a shrug. “Friendsis a strong word when it comes to the Gilroys. They don’t really dofriends. They have family. Everyone else is just noise. But yeah I know them. Henley too—we all grew up together. That’s why I was at their wedding. I was invited.” Remembering the wedding, I let out a quiet scoff. “Con invited just about everyone from the neighborhood. He said something about balance and symmetry but honestly, knowing Con, he was trying to incite a class war.”
“You told me you worked it,” she says in a slightly accusatory tone. One that says she remembers the conversation we had that night in the Hamptons and what I told her. “You told me that?—”
“That wedding was the social event of thecentury,” I remind her with an impatient head shake. “If I told you I was there as aguest, would you have believed me?”
The look on her face tells me the truth before she has a chance to say otherwise.
No.
If I’d told her I was invited to a wedding—the same wedding as the governor of New York and her multi-billionaire family—she would’ve clocked me as a liar, trying to work an angle on her, and bounced me out of her room so fast my head would’ve spun itself off my shoulders. For a second she stares at me, her gaze cloudy with indecision before her shoulders go stiff and her eyes narrow on my face. “That’s not the point.”
“Then you mind telling me what is because, to be honest, Mills—”Closing her hand around the ice pack, I reach for her. Lifting her off the edge of the mattress, I turn her and settle her on my knees before it even occurs to her to fight me. “I can never be sure with you.”
“The point is that I…” She trails off because she knows as well as I do that thereisno point. She’s not mad at me because I didn’t tell her about my connection to the Gilroys. She’s angrywith me because I left. While she was crying in the bathroom, I got dressed and walked out the door and she hasn’t heard from me since. That’s why she’s angry and she has every right to be, even if she’ll never admit it. “You should’ve told me.”
“You’re right.” Settling her bruised hand, palm up, on her thigh, I carefully gather her hair and lift it off her back. The scrapes on her shoulder blades are angry and red. Some patches look like a sunburn while a few of the smaller abrasions look deep enough to scab. “There are a lot of things I should’ve done where you’re concerned.”
“Like?”
Tugging the sheet lower on her back, I fight the urge to lie. Hide behind another sarcastic comment or a biting remark that’ll let her keep believing the worst. Prove she’s been right about me, all along. “You won’t believe me if I tell you the truth, Mills,” I say quietly while I retrieve the bottle of antiseptic spray I scored from behind the hotel bar. When I walked in, Paige was long gone and most of the people who were there to witness our fight were gone too. When I asked for his first aid kit, the bartender handed it over without question. “And I don’t want to lie.”
“Truth Island?”
“No.” I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “There’s no such thing with us. I don’t know what I was thinking when I?—”
“I’d try.” Turning herself on my knees to look at me, Millie shakes her head. “If you told me the truth, I’d?—”
“Youwouldn’t, Mills.” Shaking my head on a heavy sigh, I feel old frustrations try to take root. “Because thetruthis, you don’t want the truth. Not from me. You won’t let yourself trust me, no matter what I do.”
“And who’s fault is that?” she asks, brow crumpling under the weight of her own frustrations. “You?—”
“Alright, Mills.” Dropping the bottle of antiseptic in my hand, I hook my arm around her waist, dragging her deeper into my lap on a defeated groan. When she feels how hard I am, her eyes go wide and her mouth opens slightly on a soft expel of breath that goes straight to my cock. “You win.” Her back pressed against my chest, I lift the arm around her waist. Wrapping its hand around her throat, I angle her head on my shoulder so I can see her face. “You want the truth?” I growl down at her, my mouth inches from hers while my other hand pushes under the sheet she’s using to keep herself covered. “You want a list of all the ways I fucked up with you?” Hooking my hand around the inside of her knee, I feel that fucked up thing buried inside me start to fight and claw its way to the surface when her hazel eyes go cloudy before they drop to my mouth. “You want me to tell you that you’re the reason I answered my phone when she called. That the only reason I said yes to Paige was because being her fucktoy was the only way I had access to you.” Dipping my head, I skim the tip of my tongue along the loose seam of her lips, nipping at her with my teeth, hard enough to make her whimper. “That when I fucked her, I called her by your name.” Dragging my hand up the inside of her leg, I nearly come all over myself when her hips shift restlessly in my lap, her thighs parting to make room for me. “That I couldn’t get hard for her—fuck, I can’t get hard for anyone—unless I’m thinking about you.”
“Dean—” Eyes wide, Millie shakes her head.
