Page 140 of The Price of Scandal
They were both silent for so long, I wanted to peek around the marble to see what was going on.
“You’ll take care of her then?” Derek asked, his voice rough.
“I will. Go take care of yourself.”
“Will you tell her that I… that I’m thinking about her?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she said cheerfully.
I peered around the column. Derek stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. He hung his head. “I just need to see her,” he said so softly I wasn’t sure those were his words.
He lifted his head, and those blue eyes zeroed in on me.
“Emily,” he rasped.
“Junk punch, Derek,” Luna reminded him, slapping a hand to his chest. “Don’t make me do it. I promise you, I will take care of her. She doesn’t need you right now.”
He was still staring at me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. There was so much pain and frustration stirring the air between us.
“Tell me what to do.” He was saying it to me.
It took everything I had to turn my back and walk away.
It hurt. So much more than any of the rest of it. Derek Price held the key to my destruction.
“Here’s what you can do.” Luna’s voice carried. “We’re almost out of ice, and we’re moving on to the chilled champagne and mixed drink portion of the evening. You can leave two bags of ice at the front door. And you can go to Emily’s house since you’re so very good at breaking in and pack her an overnight bag. She’s staying here tonight,” she said firmly.
I stepped into the powder room and shut the door. Sagging against it, I closed my eyes, not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. Derek looked as gutted as I felt. But was it because he’d lost the game or me?
I took my time washing my face. Letting cold water shock my skin.
When I stepped out of the powder room, Luna was lugging two bags of takeout in the direction of the terrace.
I took one of them from her. “Don’t you have a commercial ice maker in the catering kitchen?” I asked.
She feigned innocence. “Hmm, come to think of it, I do. And you already packed an overnight bag, didn’t you?”
I had.
“What’s your game, puppet master?” I asked, following her in the direction of Bruno Mars and the pop of a champagne cork.
“Just giving him a chance to show you how he feels without you having to face him before you’re ready.”
“What if he doesn’t do anything?” I asked, my intestines still simmering.
“Then you’ll know.”
What if he did what he was tasked with? At this point, I wasn’t sure which was worse.
I wasn’t sure of anything other than the fact that I wasn’t ready to face him. Not until I was immune to those devastatingly blue eyes.
45
Emily
We ate. We drank. We danced to club music and traded stories of broken hearts.
And no one said a word when four bags of ice, a crate with all the ingredients for Bloody Marys, and a Louis Vuitton weekender bag with four fast food burgers stuffed in the pocket appeared at the front door.
