"He said you'd say that. The Renshaw's are the ones instigating contact. They'll lead."
He couldn't tell me this himself?
He couldn't pick up the phone from one professional to another and explain the situation?
Farewelling Sara, I kicked the sheets off me in anger until they fell to the floor. I had two and half hours to get ready, pack and get my ass to the airport.
THE FLIGHT WAS UNEVENTFUL.
Sara sent through the itinerary, which I read while my driver took me to my San Antonio hotel. Still, I had no idea as to the tone of the meeting and all prior interactions had been done in New York.
Dialing Hawk's number, I waited until it rang out. Calling again, I saw the same result.
"Pick up," I mouthed angrily. He had no right to ignore me, especially within a business situation. This was his doing. Not mine.
I went to compose a text instead.
Please call regarding the Renshaw meeting. Unsure as to what I'm supposed to achieve.
I waited, tapping my cell against my palm while staring out the window. The volume was set to loud, so there was no reason why I had to check it every second for his response, but I did.
I entertained the thought of texting him that despite everything I still loved him. But his priorities were elsewhere. He could still be a father to the child and not be with Celeste. He could still build a life with me. But Hawk had come to a decision almost immediately. It was like, whatever we had, or whatever we pretended it just to be, was simply... less than I ever thought.
It was nothing to him.
I was merely his employee which he managed to bed.
And now that was over.
I wasn't going to be ‘that girl' who sent a barrage of emotional dribble hoping something I said out of desperation would trigger the response I wanted.
No... I wasn't that girl.
Hawk had moved on, and so should I.
After a quick ride, we arrived at the hotel, and I walked inside to check in.
"Your key, ma'am." The young worker slid the credit card-sized key across the marble counter. "You'll be in the penthouse suite. Mr. Carnage has advised all hotel services including the beauty spa are paid for on his behalf."
"Thank you," I said, taking the key and ready to lock myself away. But then I was struck with a thought. I was on my own, in a town I had yet to explore. I had no nagging brothers in my ear and no Hawk watching my every move. I was free to let my hair down and let my hair down I would.
"Excuse me," I said, turning on my heel to address the man behind the counter. "Where's the trendiest place in town for a single woman to go... you know... for a dance?"
He smiled cheekily before unhooking his pen from his pocket and writing his suggestion on a Post-It note.
"Here," he said, handing me the note. "You're in town on the right night. It goes off around ten."
"Thank you," I said, holding the paper tight. I walked away with a smile, determined to do whatever it took to erase Hawk Carnage from my thoughts.
MY HEELS CLICKED ALONG the path leading to Demure. I could already hear the music, some smooth R&B filtering onto the street. Stopping by the entrance where there was a line-up of thirty patrons waiting to get in. The bouncer took a long, languid look at my red dress and heels and ushered me forward. He lifted the rope so I could pass, and the groans from the disgruntled line quickly faded when the door opened for me.
Demure was less a nightclub and more a lounge bar with a decent-sized dance floor. It oozed opulence and chandeliers which cast a glittery sparkle across the space. Everyone was dressed elegantly, and bottles of champagne flowed between those sitting in private booths. Opting for where the singles would more likely congregate, I headed to the bar and took a seat.
The bartender, hot, sexy, sculptured body and chiseled jaw to boot, appeared in front of me almost instantly. He eyed me with his ‘çome fuck me' eyes, and while he didn't make me ache between the legs like Hawk did, there was certainly an interest to see beneath his tight black shirt.
"Meeting anyone?" He raised a brow.
I smiled because he had that effect on me, and hell, it was better than shedding tears for a man who couldn't even respond to a simple work text.
"Not that I know of... yet, anyway."
"Then let me be of service to you." There was no denying the innuendo. "What can I get for you?"
Hawk Carnage.
"An apple martini, please."
"Ahh... a New Yorker," he gently teased while pulling a glass from the shelf.
"I am, don't hold it against me."
"I love New York," he said with a wink. He set about making my martini, and I set about watching his muscular arms shake the shaker from side to side.
He poured my cocktail and waved me away when I went to pay.
"First one is on me," he said while moving to serve other guests. Swiveling on my stool, I took in the view. This place was packed with beautiful people. It was a place Hawk would fit in perfectly. He might even acquire a few more models for his collection.
Jesus... could I at least try and go ten minutes without thinking of the man.
Before I knew it, I was four apple martinis down. Plus, a tequila shot-the bartender, now known as Xavier, did with me.
"I get off in ten," he said, leaning against the bar. He'd been great company, endless flirting, cracking jokes and ensuring my glass was always flowing.
"Lucky I have a spare seat next to me."
With another wink, he set off to finish his shift, and I went in search of the ladies' room. My bladder was screaming blue murder, the urgency real. Demure was abuzz with patrons, and I had to navigate my way through the crowds who were starting to dance to the sultry music. A man stood back not knowing I was cutting a path behind him and he bumped into me causing me to collide with another hard body on my left.
"Oops, I'm so-" I went to apologize before my nose caught the scent of something too familiar.
It can't be, I assured myself, but dread consumed me. Looking around the room, I couldn't see anyone I knew. Brushing it off, I continued, until the scent grew stronger and stronger with each step. Still nothing.
For fuck's sake, I thought, even when I'm south of the country he still haunts me.
I had to pass through the dance floor to get to the ladies', and just as I was about to step onto the carpet a hand wrapped around my wrist. I was jolted, almost flung back, until I collided with the person nabbing me. The scent was stronger than ever now. It was a cologne I used to love, but now I found it simply unpleasant and overpowering.
I looked up to meet the narrowed glare of Roman Hopheart.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I mouthed a little too loud. "Why are you here?"
He recoiled like I'd slapped him. When I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, he only tightened his grip. "My sentiment exactly. Why are you here?"
"I'm here on business," I bit back, again trying and failing to yank my arm away.
"Oh really? And is it your business to follow me around?"
My blood boiled. "Don't flatter yourself! Seeing you here has, in fact, ruined my perfect night. So thanks very fucking much."
Roman's eyes traveled the length of my body, and I felt repulsed by his unwanted attention. "You get a foul mouth when you've had too much to drink."
This time, I pulled my arm away so hard I elbowed the person behind me. "I haven't had too much to drink. Now, if you'll-"
A woman approached, looking all blonde, red lips and thick eyelashes. She wrapped her hands under Roman's arms and around his torso, not at all concerned I was there. All I could do was raise my eyebrows in question, the rest of my face showing the level of disgust toward him.
"Don't fucking judge me," he attacked. "Like you're so fucking innocent. I've seen the way you and the bartender were flirting and carrying on. I don't suppose Hawk would approve." His eyes moved to my hand which was now void of any fake engagement ring. "Oh..." he continued, suddenly amused, "... trouble in paradise."
Baited by his mocking tone and already pissed off, I unleashed. I took a step forward until I was right in his face, the blonde bimbo having stepped aside, probably frightened I would tear out her hair extensions.
"You know what, you filthy fucker, I do have a right to judge. You fucked my best friend only months before we were due to marry. Neither of you assholes in your self-righteousness apologized for the betrayal, and then you had the nerve to invite me to your shitty wedding so you could do what? Rub my face in your fake happiness? And then only hours after saying your vows, you find it almost impossible to control your tiny dick and end up fucking the bridesmaid only a hundred yards from your wife and your guests. And then..." I was on a roll, "... and then you claim I'm obsessed with your pathetic ass and was watching you fuck the bored redhead, who I might add, was yawning the whole time and was probably wondering if you had even stuck it in. Pa-lease. When I saw it was you, I practically vomited in my mouth. And now here you are, claiming this as a business trip but really screwing Miss Piggy here and for what? So, you can pass on some syphilis to make yourself feel better? You make me sick, Roman. In fact, you did me a favor by cheating and leaving. Otherwise, I'd have ended up with your catalog of diseases."
I turned my attention to the woman who did remarkably look like a human version of Miss Piggy. She was blinking so hard I thought her eyelashes were about to fly off. "And a piece of advice for you... unless you want your vagina to fall off, I suggest you pay a visit to your doctor."