Page 31 of The Billionaire's Second Chance
Charlie
Take her home,then come back for me, I’d told my driver. What she’d said made sense, I knew–she didn’t want to be seen leaving together, and the Sterling Hotel was the kind of place where one was seen–but it meant that I was now alone with half of averynice bottle of red and a tangle of knots in my stomach. Was it regret? Worry? Or just butter-seared steak sitting too heavy after our…exertions?
I lifted my glass to my lips, downing the last swallow of wine, and poured myself the rest of the bottle.
What the hell am I doing?
Sleeping withSamanthafuckingScott.
A third time.
I flopped back onto the bed, groaning. Somehow I didn’t think that this time would be, as they said,the charm. Although we hadn’t fought. That was saying something. Maybe.
I didn’t fucking know.
A one-night stand after a wedding was one thing.
But this–whateverthiswas–was something different. Maybe it was just the venue that had Sam and I back here again, although the New York Public Library was hardly the world’s mosteroticlocale. Or even the city’s. Or even theblock’s: I glanced at the embroidered robe draped across the back of the side chair. We certainly weren’t the first people to have an expensive liaison at the Sterling. Certainly not the first people to do so and then go back to work the next day, pretending nothing had happened.
I scrubbed my hand over my face and let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sigh. When I saw her again tomorrow, she’d be the same Sam Scott she always was, frosty and untouchable in another of her blue blouses, all the heat and life iced over once again with cold professionalism. The whole thing was ridiculous, but nothing was more ridiculous than the way I longed to see her melting gaze cast in my direction again.
Greed was right.
My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it.
Home.
I nodded, sliding the phone into my pocket. My driver would be here soon; I wouldn’t have to sit by myself in this hotel room anymore.Sure, you’ll sit by yourself in the back of a car, and then in your apartment.
My eyes landed on the glass on the other bedside table. I moved over the bed, dropping my feet over the edge and rolling back my shoulders. My muscles were loose, but with sex or wine I couldn’t tell. Better to be sure. I grabbed her abandoned wine and took a deep swallow, my lips where hers had been. I placed it back on the table and pulled on my socks, then my leather sneakers, lacing them up. James had made fun of them–sneakers at the office, Charlie? Really, is that appropriate for a CEO–but Veritech wasn’t like the publishing company. Veritech was mine. I could wear sneakers if I wanted to, and anyway they were just as expensive as his dress shoes. My phone buzzed again against my thigh. My driver.
I stood, glancing around the room for anything we’d left–but we’d hardly brought anything. All that remained were two glasses, two plates. Two robes, one tossed over a chair and the other still hung neatly in the wardrobe.
One bed, the sheets rumpled, and not from sleep; It wasn’t even ten o’clock.
I dropped another fifty on the bedside table for housekeeping, leaving the heavy brass key on top of it and letting myself out, down to the waiting car. I sank into the familiar backseat and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. It smelled like leather and, faintly, of her.
* * *
It wasn’t until later, when I’d gotten home, taken a quick shower, and lain down on top of the sheets on my own bed, that I checked my phone. I’d meant to pull up my work email, but I saw the unread notification and swiped it open instead.
Home.
There was a second text, sent a few minutes after the first.
Thank you for the lift.
I checked the time; she’d still be awake. After all, she probably had a bunch of manuscript submissions to read. I smiled, leaning back against the pillows and typing out a reply.
I couldn’t have you missing that billionaire group date.
I thought you were jealous.her text came in almost immediately, and I smirked.
Envious,I corrected.
No, in this context I’m certain it’s jealous.
What was it she’d said the difference was? Envy was when you wanted something you didn’t have, jealousy was…
