Bound to Please(92)

“A chocolate martini, please.” She settled onto a wooden stool and dug her cell phone out of her bag. She tried calling Mark, but it went straight to voice mail. Ignoring the nerves having a boxing match in her belly, she arranged her phone on the shiny wooden counter, where she could see it.

A few minutes later the bartender placed a chilled cocktail in front of her. Taking a deep sip, she savored the chocolaty drink, and of course it conjured up memories of that first night with Mark.

She still wondered how he’d instinctively known her, recognized what she needed, what she craved. How had he seen what had been a mystery even to herself? Well, he’d gone and unleashed something in her, something she could no longer suppress. If only he’d show up; she could start un-suppressing right then.

With the martini glass to her lips, she tilted another few drops onto her tongue. The tang of vodka mingled with the bittersweet chocolate, and she relished the combination as it slid down her throat.

Where was he? Obviously he knew when she was due to arrive. Was he even in the hotel? Maybe he was at a sound check, or whatever it was he did to prepare for a performance. He was a busy man. It was something she was going to have to get used to if they even had a chance.

She was about to order another drink when the sound of female laughter drew her attention. She looked to the hotel entrance, watched two young women enter the lobby. But she never registered what they looked like. Because, walking between them, with an arm draped over each of their shoulders, was Mark.

All the blood seemed to drain out of her body in a cold rush. Her throat went tight, capturing the shout that bubbled in her chest. Frozen, she watched as he led the women casually to the elevator and pushed a button.

His hand was in the hair of one of the girls, playing with it. Her own scalp tingled, remembering how his hands had felt there. She wanted to run to him; she wanted him to explain this horrible mistake.

But then they stepped inside the elevator, and she knew it wasn’t a mistake. Because just before the door shut she saw him bend down, saw the way his mouth moved toward the girl whose hair he held. Saw the way her eyelids lowered as his lips got closer to hers.

And just before their lips touched the elevator doors closed, shutting off her view of them.

Yet she couldn’t look away. Because it was wrong, it had to be. Maybe they were shooting a music video. Maybe the doors were going to open up again and Mark was going to emerge, laughing, and camera crews would appear and tell him they got the shot. And then he’d see her, his eyes would light up, and he’d come to her, take her in his arms and look at her in that way that melted her into a boneless mass whenever she was around him.

But when the elevator doors did finally open, it was only to let out a group of businessmen in navy blue suits.

Seeming to notice her distress, the bartender looked her way. “You need another one?” he asked.

“Y–yes, please. Several.”

He just quirked a brow as if to say “crazy American” and pulled some vodka off the shelf behind him.

Why had Mark sent her the plane ticket? Had he wanted her to see this? Had he wanted to hurt her? Her mind was whirling; she couldn’t think.

“You’re a real tough cookie.”

She looked up to find Yvette standing next to her. She wore tight jeans and a tank top with a picture of a lollipop that said, “It ain’t gonna lick itself.”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby asked.

Yvette ordered a beer before answering. “I mean, I don’t know any other woman who could say no to the man who wrote a love song for her. But you did, you tough cookie.”

Ruby gulped her martini before turning to Yvette. “Fat lot of good it did me. I just saw Mark headed upstairs with a couple of… sluts.” She nodded. “That’s right, I said it. Sluts.”

Yvette cringed. “Yeah, I didn’t mean that to happen. Bad timing, definitely.”

Ruby turned and faced Yvette head-on. “Yvette. What’s going on here?”

“I sent you the ticket.” She put a finger to her lips and made a sshh sound. “But our boy doesn’t know you’re here. I wanted to surprise him.”

“I’m gonna need another drink,” Ruby said, waving for the bartender.

“Good call.” Yvette slid onto the barstool next to Ruby. “See, I’m trying to be a good friend.”

“By bringing me to Budapest to have my heart broken?” Ruby said incredulously.

“Not a friend to you. Although I’m sure you’re quite nice. No, I was trying to be a friend to Mark. See, it was my fault we flaked on your preparty, so I was trying to make amends.”