Itookanotherlargegulp of overpriced hotel wine. Already a bottle in, the pleasant, spreading numbness grew. It was exactly what I needed to drown my stupid sorrows. So what if it had been a setup? So what if he’d stomped all over what I had to give? Renzo who? That was right. In an hour, I wouldn’t even remember the jerk’s name. Who needed a guy like him anyway?
My phone rang for the hundredth time. I swayed and bobbed my head to the musical ringtone until it dropped off. Another missed call from the man who proved he only saw me as another tool in his toolbox.
I sighed, dropping my head back against the cushioned headboard, and took another gulp of wine. Infatuation really made me stupid.
I just needed one night to get over him and let go of my delusions. One night to cry. One night to drink. One night to forget. That was all I was giving myself. Tomorrow, everything would be better. It had to be.
Someone knocked on the door. I crawled over the comforter and memory foam mattress, almost tripping off the edge. The knocks came again. Bee, silly girl, must have forgotten her key card.
“I’m coming.” I staggered forward, my hand against the wall for support. Maybe that last glass had been a little too much. “Give me a second, babe. How’d you already lose—”
I opened the door and froze, blinking, then rubbing my eyes. He wasn’t Bee. Why did Renzo always have to look so damn good? So tall. So fit and broad-shouldered, wearing the same suit as earlier, not the least bit disheveled. With a jaw chiseled from granite, the perfect contour of facial hair for his mustache and goatee, and ruthless eyes that pierced the soul like blades. I groaned. He was a walking sex dream, while I was in a hotel bathrobe, eyeliner dried up in trails down my eyes, my hair half out of its pins.
“What are you”—I shoved a finger against his chest—“doing here?”
He wrapped his hand around my fingers. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
I wrenched away, stumbling back a few steps. “Leave. I don’t want you here.”
“We have things to discuss.”
He stepped through the threshold and shut the door behind him—always so composed and unflappable, not a hair out of place, not a twitch of emotion on his face. I deflated with a trill of my lips and staggered back to the bed, collapsing backward.
“This isn’t the time. Just go away.”
The bedding rustled and dipped where he sat.
“You left. I was worried.”
I huffed. “Doubtful.”
“Don’t do it again. Or I swear, I’ll pinken your ass until you can’t sit.”
My eyes widened. I did not just hear that. I swept my hands down my face to hide my blush. “It was a shitty date. Any woman with dignity would have left. So don’t be such a spoilsport because I didn’t wag my tail and stick out my tongue like a goodlittle pooch. If that’s what you want”—I thrust my hand toward the door—“out you go.”
“You could’ve been hurt. I thought somebody had you.”
“And whose fault would that’ve been?” I hiccupped.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“So?” I threw my arms wide open. “I’m twenty-two. It’s a free country.”
“Come on. I’ll get you home.” He started to tug on my arm, but I lurched free to plummet back on the comfy bed.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Ainsley.” He growled my name.
“No,” I burst out, vaulting upright. The room spun. “You made it seem like you wanted to try for us, but this wasn’t a date. It was a mirage. Just a show. You used me to get to Dimakos.”
“It was the easiest way.”
I tossed my head back and laughed hard, the alcohol clearing from my brain. “Do you hear yourself? You don’t give a shit about me at all, do you? I’m still just that kid to you, the one whose brother you killed and who burned down your car.”
He rubbed his temples. “You’re not. You haven’t been for a long time.”
“I don’t believe you.”
