Page 66 of The Master

I was drunker than I thought. The word had been dancing around in my head, true, but to have it just come out like that told me I was slipping. Definitely a good reason to not have Ashlee here with me at the moment. If I kept drinking, I could end up doing or saying something monumentally stupid and fuck everything up even more than it already was.

I took a long draught from the bottle, barely even tasting it anymore. I briefly considered swapping it out for something that would get me just as drunk but didn’t have memories associated with it. Except that would mean I’d need to get up again. Besides, Blanton’s was my self-pity go-to drink, and even if I didn’t like thinking of myself as being self-pitying, that was what I was doing. If I couldn’t be honest with myself, then who could I be honest with?

I made a derisive sound and frowned at the bottle. Honesty. What was the point? If people said they were being honest, it didn’t really mean they actually were, so why even bother pretending? We should all just accept the fact that people lied and stop trying to act like honesty was required for intimacy.

Intimacy.

There was a word as loaded ashonesty. What was wrong with just fucking? Pure physical pleasure that didn’t need to include emotions. I’d been good at that. Hell, I’d beengreatat it.

Okay, Calah and Roma proved that doing things that way wasn’t always smooth sailing, but maybe they had seen what Isti had seen, which set them off. It wasn’t a stretch to think that the reason they’d come after me the way they had was because they knew Ashlee wasn’t just another warm body to play with.

She’d been more than that from the first moment I laid eyes on her, even if I hadn’t admitted it at the time. There was no turning back. Now that I’d had something real, I could never go back to a meaningless fuck, and in my maudlin state, I didn’t know if the change was good…or bad.

If I was an asshole sober, what did that make me when I was drunk?

Not that I was drunk. Just on my way there.

Someone buzzed the intercom.

“Fuck off!” I shouted even though I knew whoever it was couldn’t hear me. I’d have to push the button for that to happen.

It buzzed again, and I ignored it.

Then again.

Shit.

I stumbled a little as I got to my feet, but my path to the door was straight. Halfway there, I realized that it could be Ashlee. Maybe she was planning to surprise me by showing up with a coat, heels, and nothing else. I liked that idea.

I hit the button, still hoping it was her, then realized I probably should have doublechecked first. If whoever had broken into Ashlee’s place wanted to do the same here, I’d just given them grounds to say that they’d been invited in.

Reality hit when I remembered it couldn’t be Ashlee in that elevator. She was busy cleaning up the mess at her apartment. A mess that was my fault, and I hadn’t even offered to help. Even if I’d still wanted to be alone, I could’ve called a cleaning service so she could stay at her mom’s while someone else did the dirty work. I’d even told her that’s what I’d do.

I was a shit boyfriend.

The elevator dinged, and the door slid open.

Two women. Heels. Fairly conservative black dresses. I blinked a couple times, but there were still two women. Women who weren’t my girlfriend. Women who most definitely shouldnothave been able to get into the building.

“You’ve had a rough day.” Calah put out a hand to stop the elevator door from closing.

“We’d like to make things better,” Roma said, her expression soft. “Can we come inside?”

Forty-Four

Ashlee

Owen offeredto come up with me, but I told him I had a key. As good as he was at keeping his face blank, he couldn’t completely disguise his surprise. Even if I only had it because of extenuating circumstances, it still meant something that Nate cared more about my comfort and care than about his privacy.

I just hoped he wasn’t going to regret giving it to me before the night was over.

The ride up to the penthouse felt like an eternity, and I kept catching myself tapping my toes or fingers, making all sorts of anxious little ticks that revealed just how tightly wound I was. I hadn’t texted or talked with Nate on my way here, but now I was wondering if that had been a mistake.

The elevator door slid open, and I stepped into the quiet penthouse. I waited for a moment, then heard faint voices. I set my purse and jacket on the closest table, then headed for the bedroom, not walking with any extra care. I wasn’t trying to hide my approach, but I also wasn’t going out of my way to make noise either.

When I reached the door to his bedroom, I didn’t bother to knock since the door was open partway. I pushed it open and took in the scene in front of me.

Nate was on his stomach in the center of the bed, completely naked, if the fact that only half of his ass was covered by the sheet was any indication. He was sound asleep. The women on either side of him, however, were very much awake.

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