Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Are you okay there, madam?”
A suited man appears beside me. The concierge. “Yes, thank you.” I divert to the elevator and press the button. I need to go to my room and regroup. Find some strength and resistance. The elevator dings, the doors open, and I stare at the empty cart. Just get in. Get in and let it carry me away.
As I look back over my shoulder to the revolving doors that lead out onto the street, my lip begins to wobble. But I still turn away from the elevator. The elevator doors start to close without me in it, and my feet move without me telling them to, carrying me towards the source of my distress and heartache.
Pushing my way round the ornate revolving door, I find Jude waiting for me immediately outside. He was coming to find me.
My heart turns, my throat closes. His chest visibly deflates from his exhale of relief, his eyes dull, and I wait for his words while we stand in the middle of the pavement, in everyone’s way. Except he doesn’t speak. He just holds my eyes, his face expressionless.
A car pulls up to the kerb. A Rolls-Royce. Jude steps towards it and opens the door, then stands back, waiting. I look at him. See his jaw tighten and his Adam’s apple protrude from his swallow. “Get in,” he orders, his tone flat but radiating authority.
I shouldn’t even be here on the street. I definitely shouldn’t put myself in his car.
But against my better judgment, I step forward and hitch up my skirt, climbing in. Humphrey’s in the driver’s seat, and I catch his eye in the rearview mirror. He nods mildly as I settle in the soft leather seat, Jude climbing in behind me. The armrest isn’t down, so I fix that, putting a pathetic barrier between us as Jude watches out the corner of his eye.
As soon as the door closes, Humphrey pulls away and Jude reaches for the button that raises the panel, giving us privacy.
What am I doing?
Even now, with half a metre between us and a ton of hurt and anger, I can feel the chemistry sizzling. And it fucks me off. My unstoppable reaction to him really fucks me off. Braving facing him, I take in his stunning profile. “I’m only here for some answers.” I sound confident but feel far from it.
“Sure you are,” he replies, not even looking at me.
“Don’t be an arsehole, Jude. You used me in a sick game you play with the married woman you’re fucking.”
His jaw rolls, and his nostrils flare.
“Were you still fucking her?” Is he still fucking her now?
“No, Amelia, I was not fucking her.”
Whether I believe him isn’t something I can devote any time to right now. “If I was a bet, why didn’t you just try to pick me up that night?”
Sad truth is, I was so intoxicated, fresh off the back of a breakup, I probably would have done something reckless like sleep with a stranger.
Jude remains quiet, and my patience continues to fray.
“Katherine was right. You like the thrill of the chase. The game.” He likes dazzling women and stretching out the seduction, bending them, making them fold under his power until they beg him to blow their world apart.
“At first, yes.” He finally faces me. Faces the mess he’s made of me, because make no mistake, I’m a fucking mess, and no amount of makeup, hair spray, and a fancy outfit can disguise that. His jaw tics, a sign of his temper flaring. He’s glaring at me like this is all somehow my fault. “Yes, you were a bet, but then I got an unhealthy dose of obsession, and the game wasn’t so much fun anymore.”
“You poor thing,” I say tightly, making his eyes darken to the shade I know so well. Teal. Not muted or soft, but dark, the perfect blend of green and blue. The perfect shade of angry. “So the voucher for the spa day—you had that sent to Abbie?” His brother’s reaction comes back to me. How surprised he was that Arlington Hall was offering discount spa days.
“I did,” he confirms.
“And the conference?”
He inhales. “Anouska’s boyfriend manages the Hilton on Park Lane.”
“Jesus,” I breathe over a laugh, breaking our eye contact. “What about the partners’ gathering I was invited to at Evelyn’s?”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Oh, how good of you.” I jump in my seat when he smashes his balled fist down onto the armrest between us. Why the hell is he so angry? Stalking me, finally getting me where he wants me, and now he’s all het up and aggressive? This was a waste of my time. I’ve got my answers.
He’s a whore, and I’m an idiot.
“If being a first-class wanker was a sport, you’d be the fucking champion, Jude Harrison.”