Page 30 of R Is For Revenge: Part One
Lola hops up from the couch, scooping her duffel bag with one hand. “Give me twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. Don’t leave without me.”
She disappears down the hallway toward the guest suite, already humming some tune under her breath. The energy she brings is like lightning—bright, a little chaotic, and hard to ignore.
I take another sip of my drink and roll the glass between my palms.
Aspen is the kind of place I avoid when I want tothink. But maybe that’s the point tonight. I don’t want to think about Jules. About the way she stood in my suite last night, eyes big and brave, even after Braedon put his hands on her. I don’t want to think about Braedon’s hands on her. Or fact that she didn’t flinch when I stepped in—but she didn’t thank me either.
I don’t want to think about the way she looked like she didn’t trust me. And worse—how much I liked it.
The fact is, I don’t want to think. I want to lose myself in mindless sex with someone who doesn’t look like Jules.
Lola appears in five-inch heels, black latex dress hugging her figure, eyes smoky and sharp, lips plumped and deep red.
“Jesus, Lo, that thing barely covers your ass.”
“Concern is noted, but that’s kind of the point.” She smiles. “I have a great ass.”
Christ. I might need back up for this. I pull my cell out and send Abel a text.
Headed to Aspen.
He replies almost immediately.
?
Meet me there. VIP.
I wait for the tree dots to appear.
Is no an option?
I shake my head and follow my sister out of my place as I send another text.
Lola is in town. Could use the help.
The three dots appear again and then he replies with a thumbs up.
“Okay,” I say heading toward the elevator. I call my car service and nod toward my sister. “Let’s go.”
Aspen pulses with heat and bass. The club is downtown, not far from Times Square. It’s dark velvet and blood-red lights and bodies moving under the hum of excess and the beat of decadence. I haven’t been here since the night we took our company public. Hell, it was in that VIP lounge that I etched out my plan to destroy Horner. So this is kind of like a homecoming.
We head up to VIP and the games begin. I settle back, content to drink and watch and let the noise do its thing.
Two hours later, Lola’s tossed back more shots than she should have and downed an impressive amount of Belvedere. Seems like she’s not the only Gaines battling a few demons.
She’s dancing with some tattooed woman who is higher than a kite and moves like she’s underwater. My sister doesn’t seem to mind. She makes friends easy and doesn’t judge. She’s having a great time, loose-limbed and laughing, reckless in a way that only women who think they’re invincible can be. And she is—mostly—because I asked Abel to join us. He’s always had a soft spot for Lola and I trust him.
He’s posted up at the bar, his arms crossed, eyes sharp beneath the lazy slouch of his posture. He gives me a nod when our eyes meet:I’ve got her.
Good thing, because I’m otherwise engaged.
I’m at our reserved table, tucked just above the main floor with a view of the crowd. A bottle of top-shelf tequila sits untouched in front of me. My jacket’s off. My shirt’s undone. And the blonde currently kneeling between my legs is doing everything right, if a little exaggerated. The noises she makes is enough to drive me batshit.
I put my hand on her head. Tell her to shut up. I hold her in place. She sucks dick with the kind of enthusiasm I normal enjoy. But tonight I feel off.
Her hair is soft. Her mouth is skilled, so why is it Jules I see when I close my eyes? Jules I picture with her mouth on me, Jules I imagine moaning my name, eyes flicking up through thick lashes while she tastes me.
“Fuck,” I mutter leaning back as one of those options I’d thought up earlier circles my brain.
