Page 45 of Treachery

If it doesn’t work, if she doesn’t take you back, it won’t matter, you’ll be dead, because she’ll have burned your heart to ashes.

Internally snarling at that thought, he considered his next steps.

“Shit—” He knew what he had to do next. Texting Red, he waited for a response, then plugged the new phone number into his cell.

The line rang four times before someone answered, “Hello?”

His heart in his throat, he said, “Hey…this is—this is James…err…Locust—please don’t hang up!” There was silence on the other end as though waiting to weigh and judge what he said next. “I need your help. I’m…I’m desperate. I love her…I love her so much….” He dragged in a fortifying breath. “And I need your help to prove that to her.”

More silence groaned over the line, then, what felt like an hour later, a muttered, “What do you need?” jump started his sputtering heart.

“Shannon, what is this request for an ice sculpture shaped like a giant penis?” Nadia demanded, incredulous, as she swept into guest services office, her gaze scouring the request sheet and invoice her assistant had filled out. “The client wants it today, and they want it delivered to the Garden Room.” The Garden Room was one of the poshest of the event spaces at Emerald Greens. Deep green wallpaper decorated with gilt flowers lined each wall, ten-foot-tall Grecian columns stood in each corner, wrapped in living ivy, gold inlay framed the sky blue wainscoting, gold and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, large, verdant, flowering plants in Greek-style urn-shaped planters were perfectly placed throughout the room, and a circular, freestanding, gas burning fireplace sat dead center of the opulence like a pyre in a pagan temple—it looked like if the Garden of Eden, a Greek temple, and Trump Tower had aménage à trois. It was a smaller than their largest banquet room, holding only around twenty people, but it was intended for smaller, more intimate affairs like dinner parties. Definitelynotthe appropriate place for a giant ice phallus!

“You have to call and tell them we cannot accommodate their request,” Nadia said, holding out the request sheet to a noticeably nervous-looking Shannon.

“Well, um…that isn’t going to work,” Shannon stammered.

Crossing her arms, Nadia inquired, her patience thinning, “Why the hell not?” She knew she was being snippy, that shewas taking her frustrations and sadness out on Shannon, but she couldn’t help how she felt. Nadia was angry—at James and at herself. At James because the asshole didn’t know the meaning of the word “space,” and at herself because she really, reallylikedhis definition of “space.” She lived for his daily texts, even though she never replied—shedidhavesomepride. And she was so well fed from all the takeout deliveries, she had probably gained five pounds.

Not that he cares. That man loves your ass and tits.And she did believe that. Yes, she’d been body-conscious most of her life, always worried about how people saw her as her size. Before she’d met and had been duped by Joe, she’d only had sex twice, once when she was nineteen, and they were both drunk on Kraken—she still avoided rum at all costs—and another time with a man she’d met on Plenty of Fish. He’d chatted with her online, wanted to meet in person, and when they met up, he spent the night trying to make her feel like she won some kind of prize because he was so willing to be seen with her. Then, because she was a pitiful, lonely, loser, she let him fuck her in the back seat of his Buick. Joe hadn’t treated her much better, but with him, she’d thought they were in a relationship.

But James…not once had she felt anything but desirable with him. He’d, not once, made her feelless thanbecause she was physicallymore thanother women.

“I can’t call them and tell them that because some of the guests have already arrived for the event,” Shannon explained, her cheeks turning pink as she tucked her chin.

“For an event I didn’t even know about until five minutes ago?” Nadia exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “What the hell is going on around here?”

Shannon shrugged, her blush deepening. “I don’t know. I just filled out the form. I think you should go talk to them, tell themthere was a mix up or something, so they don’t get angry and call Bengwell.”

Oh, shit, just what she needed, some raging Botox Barbie calling her boss to bitch about something. She was already getting sideways looks because of how grumpy she’d been over the last six weeks.

Grumbling, she gripped the request sheet and invoice in her fist, straightened out her pleated ankle-length skirt and brushed the loose hair from her face with the other hand, then she squared her shoulders, and pointed her feet toward the door to the Garden Room.

She stopped just outside the fancy, dark wood double doors, and took a long, slow, deep breath. She couldnotbe a bitch to whoever was on the other side of the door, even though she was feeling particularly bitchy. Because she missed him. She missed his scent, how he smiled of motor oil, cedar, and rich whiskey. She missed the way he filled out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt like they were a second skin. She missed the way he smirked when he caught her looking at him, then kissed the hell out of her. She missed the way he would wrap her in his arms, plant his nose in her neck, and just breathe her in like he’d suffocate without her. She missed how he felt inside of her, his long, thick cock filling her, making her explode with pleasure. But, what she missed the most, was his strength—no, not just his physical strength, but his presence, the depth and breadth and width of his essence. He could walk into a room, and she would immediately feel at ease, safe, content…and sometimes horny as hell.

James—Locust—was all man, loyal to the death, even at the risk of his own heart, and all hers. If she wanted him.

And, God, do I want him.

But that wasn’t enough. Right?

Maybe I should text him back…see if he wants to hang out…as friends….

She snorted, rolling her eyes at her own idiocy. The man made it clear he didn’t want to befriends—he wanted all of her or nothing.

But she couldn’t give him what he wanted, because he only offered a portion of himself in return. Most of him was taken up with duty to his club, and his honorable debt to Frost for saving his life and giving him purpose. What was left of him after that? Not to mention how he’d been so scared of telling her the truth, he hid it from her, which only hurt her much more deeply when she overheard him and Cluster. If he had told her the truth, even a month into their “relationship,” she’d have forgiven him by now.

The sad truth was…she loved him, so much it hurt to be separated from him, but she would rather live with the pain—and hope it lessened over the years without him—than get back with him, and live with the fear he would betray her again. For the club. For Frost. What was to stop him from following Frost’s orders to target another single woman? Would he agree? Would he leave Nadia at home while he seduced and charmed and tricked another woman? What would that make her?

Muffled masculine voices on the other side of the door jerked her from her thoughts. The backs of her eyes burned with unshed tears, just as her chest burned with a terrible ache at the choice she must make.

She had to cut James—Locust—out of her life for good. Cutting him out would hurt like a sharp wound now, but it would hurt more if she let the wound fester, if she let him back in only for him to choose duty over her again and again and again. Would he be too scared to tell her the truth then, too? Would she only find out what was going on when she overheard him talking to one of his club brothers? Or would she see him, holding handswith the other woman, snuggled up close to her as they walked down the street, or sat in his truck at a stop light, or?—

Shaking herself, she knew it wasn't the time to let her emotions swallow her.

Steeling herself for whatever Botox Barbie and Ketamine Ken had in store for her in the Garden Room, she plastered on her concierge smile, and pushed the doors open.

She came to a dead stop, her eyes nearly popping from her face, her mouth dropping open in utter shock.

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