Ruthless In A Suit(41)

That’s it. I can’t take it, especially if he’s going to start giving lip service to the actual needy children of Boston. What a condescending asshole.

I get up from my chair, and jerk my head toward the nearby pillar and stand on the opposite side of it, away from the prying eyes and ears of my table.

“What is wrong with you?” I say.

“Emily,” Jackson says, pulling back at my dramatic opening. “I wanted to say—”

“Nothing,” I snap. “You don’t get to say anything to me. You had the chance, the day after that dinner. But what did I get? A big fat dose of silence.”

“It’s not so simple—”

“Don’t you dare give me lame excuses either. I don’t care. Okay? About you or what happened between us or anything.” I start to leave but decide I’m not done, turning back to him. “You know what? You can’t treat people like that. You think you’re so much better than everyone else and that you have some right to treat people like crap. I’m glad you donated the money but I regret going out to dinner with you. You were just scamming me so you could use me up for one night and then discard me. You’re disgusting, Jackson Croft.”

With that, I push past him, getting the hell out of that room. I am not going to cry, but I might need to scream into a pillow or something.

I punch through the ballroom door. I go to the end of the hallway and around the corner, near the elevator for the hotel offices. I hear the doors of the ballroom click shut and I hope it’s not Jackson coming to look for me. It’d be just like him to want to get in the last word.

So I’m surprised when it’s Brent who rounds the corner, looking for me.

“Hey,” he says in a voice that sounds more like he’s talking with a child than an adult. “You okay, sweetie?” He puts his hands on my arms and rubs them up and down, as if I’m cold. I’m not, I’m heated up and wish he’d stop. I nudge my arm and he releases me.

“Not particularly,” I mumble.

“What was that all about back there?”

I don’t want him to know about my brief history with Jackson so I just say, “It was nothing.”

“Did he say something to do? Something he shouldn’t have?”

“No,” I say. Brent is leaning in so close to me, trying to get me to look in his eyes but I don’t want to. I just need a moment think. “I just thanked him for his donation and then I started to not feel well so I came out here. It was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” he says in a gentle voice, like he’s trying to get a frightened cat out from under the bed. “I hope you know that you can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“Seriously, Brent,” I say. “It was nothing.” I force a smile, hoping it’ll be enough for him to back off. He’s wearing cologne, too much, and the smell is making me feel like I’m going to choke. “Let’s go back in there. Really. I’m better now.”

“Hey, now, slow down,” Brent says. He touches my arms again, holding them on either side. “It is nice and quiet back here.” He tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Brent…” I begin. This is the last thing I need.

“Shhh,” he says, his breath hitting my face. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and truly trying to calm myself. I feel penned in, trapped.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He puts his fingertips under my chin and leans in, his lips aiming for mine.

“Hey, wait,” I say, pulling back as much as I can when I’m backed against the wall. “Brent, come on. I mean, I'm sorry. I don’t mean…I mean you’re a really nice guy and all.”

“Don’t give me that. I know I'm a nice guy. A really nice guy.” He closes the space between us again and says, “I can be a really nice guy to you in more ways than one.”

If that’s supposed to be sultry talk then I just can’t. I don’t want this from Brent.

“Brent, can we just go back to the table?” I say. He doesn’t move so I put my hand on his chest to nudge him back but he grabs my wrist and holds me in place.

“Come on,” he says. “Don’t be such a prude.” He tries to kiss me again but I turn my head, his mouth landing on my ear. “Goddamn it, stop it. Come on, relax.”

My fight or flight responses are hitting max level. I need to get away from this guy. What has happened? How did he turn so quickly?

“I’m serious, Brent. Let go of me.” Part of me wants to scream, but I don’t want to cause a scene—I just want to get the hell out of here and away from him.