A Wicked Game(29)

Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, crashing her body to his. “Tori, I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mouth a breath away from hers.

The heat emanating from his body surrounded her from head to toe. She ached for his touch. She’d missed him so much it hurt, and if she let desire lead her, she’d give in and listen to whatever he’d say. She had to be strong. Her weakness for him would drive her to accept him back in her life. What if he made promises and later left without another word—again? She’d be completely crushed.

Tori stared at his lips, then dragged her gaze to his eyes. “I’m sorrier,” she said, her voice cracking. She untangled herself from him and headed inside her apartment building without another glance at him. Emptiness filled her chest. Walking away from Jack took the little bit of will power left in her. If he came running after her, she wouldn’t be able to say no a second time. Eventually she’d find the strength to move on without Jack in her life. For starters, she hadn’t made it to London, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make it to Milan or Paris. Ever since she’d started with the magazine, she hadn’t missed the annual fashion shows. This wouldn’t be the first time she did. It’d keep her mind busy day in and day out so she wouldn’t even have a spare second to think about Jack.





Chapter Nineteen





Jack sat at the bar where he’d karaoked with Tori a few months ago. His cold beer sat in front of him. It was Wednesday night and the place wasn’t packed, which worked perfect for him because he wasn’t in the mood for loud crowds. Going home didn’t appeal to him, not when his own loneliness waited for him.

Everything changed for him the moment he’d set eyes on Tori again. He’d been too afraid to admit he was in love. Truth be told, he’d been most afraid of rejection.

He took a drink of his beer. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been a coward and run away instead of facing his reality at the time, her rejection wouldn’t hurt as much. Shit. He wasn’t even sure she would’ve rejected him anymore. Not after seeing the pain in her eyes the last time he saw her—almost two weeks ago. He’d called, emailed her, and texted her every day. No matter how hard and long he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz with a call or an incoming message, Tori wasn’t coming back.

Life without her in the picture was a bitch. Fuck, he couldn’t move on. He was stuck on Tori and she was nowhere to be found. Working all hours of the day every day did nothing to keep his mind busy; his thoughts always managed to wander to her. He hadn’t spent the night at his condo in LA since the last time he saw her. Memories of her pole dancing were still vivid in his mind. A shiver shot straight to his cock as he recalled the way he’d made love to her. All he had left were memories of something that would never be. How the fuck could he move on? He’d created his own misery.

“If you buy me a drink, I may have just the ticket to get you out of your horrible funk.”

Jack turned to face the woman taking the bar stool next to him. “Vivienne.” He stared at her. “Is this a coincidence or are you stalking me?”

Vivienne let out a soft laugh and gestured to the bartender. “Me? Stalking you?” She looked at him. “Trust me, I’ve better things to do than stalk you, Jack. I’ll admit it’s not a coincidence I’m here either.” She ordered her drink.

“You’re stalking me,” he said, grabbing his beer bottle. “How did you find me?”

“Let’s say I’m resourceful.” She shrugged.

“Did Brandy tell you I could be here?” He cocked his brow.

Vivienne smiled. “I don’t know who Brandy is.”

Jack took a long pull of his beer, making a mental note to have a little chat with his assistant. “What do you want?”

The bartender placed her drink on the bar, and she gestured for him to hand the check to Jack. “Do you care for Tori?” she asked.

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

“Fine. It’s your loss, not mine.” Vivienne drank from her wine glass. “I guess I’ll be going to Milan after all. You know, those fashion shows are so exclusive, only VIPs and media get in. Whatever was I thinking, almost gifting my pass to you?”

Jack did a double take at her, placing his beer on the bar, trying to process what she’d just said.

She took another long sip from her wine. “Must be all those crazy hours I’ve been working. Thanks for the drink, Jack.” She stood to leave.

Jack reached for her arm. “How did you get a hold of the media pass?”