The Bachelor Contract(18)
A smug grin flashed across Cole’s features. “Oh, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Well, I made it out alive.”
“Yup.” Was it Brant’s imagination or did Cole look disappointed? “If that’s all?” He started to walk away.
Brant waited until Cole was a few feet from the table before he called out to him. “Actually, there was one more thing.”
Fact: Being an asshole was way more fun sober.
“Yes?” Cole clenched the menu so hard his knuckles turned white.
Brant unfolded his itinerary for the day. “Twenty-four-seven service, right?”
“Right.” Cole’s eyes narrowed.
“I noticed that guests can request an in-room massage with turn-down service?”
“If we have enough time to plan for it, yes.”
“Great. I’d like that.”
“Okay.” Cole pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll just take a look at the schedule.”
“Tomorrow night.”
Cole’s fingers paused over the phone. “Actually, you’ll notice that the masquerade-themed cocktail party is tomorrow night. We’ll have every staff member working there.”
Brant shrugged. “So you’re saying you can’t make it happen?”
Cole’s jaw clenched until a muscle flexed and popped on the right side of his face. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you, Cole.”
“Will that be everything?”
“Yup.”
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
“Positive?”
“You can go now. It’s not like I need you to fluff my pillows.”
Cole nodded once and walked off.
With a shaky hand, Brant motioned for a waiter. Any waiter. Somehow the minute Cole had left, the scent of Nikki had returned.
Son of a bitch.
He needed to either get drunk or get laid.
“Yes, sir?”
“Whiskey.” All of it. “Two fingers, splash of water.”
“Any preference for—”
“Fast. I want it fast,” Brant said in a condescending tone, all the while feeling trapped, angry, that even though he was still running, the pain refused to go away.
Numb. He needed to be numb again.
Because even though he had a job to do, he was pretty sure if he kept smelling her everywhere he went in this damn hotel, he was going to do something stupid.
Chapter Eight
I lost my appetite,” Cole mumbled once he came back to the table. Nikki had already eaten two pieces of buttery bread and downed his entire drink. Maybe it was the alcohol or the carbs, but suddenly she was so exhausted, it was hard to keep her eyes open.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you turn down food.”
“Yeah, well…” His voice was hoarse. He sounded as exhausted as she felt.
“That’s okay.” She waved him off and started to slide out of the booth. “Let’s just get things to go, and you can walk me to my apartment.”
“Done.” He sounded pissed but relieved.
“Unless you want to stay? Sorry, I can’t exactly read your expression, but you sound angry.”
His sigh was long and hard. “Sometimes I hate my job—the forced kindness when people are complete assholes and deserve to be punched in the dick.”
“Whoa.”
He stood and offered his arm. “I’ll grab our food and meet you in the lobby, all right?”
“I can wait here—”
“I know you can,” Cole interrupted. “Just…please?”
“Wow, Cole Masters just said please…” she teased. “I guess I’ll go wait in the lobby.”
“And to think, all it took was good manners,” he said.
“Good manners still won’t get you a yes on that marriage proposal.”
He whispered a quiet “We’ll see” before kissing her forehead and pointing her toward the lobby.
Why couldn’t she love a man like Cole?
Other than the fact that he was her best friend.
And a complete manwhore.
And held her job in the palm of his hand.
Groaning, she tapped her way to the main lobby and plopped down on one of the plush leather chairs. When she closed her eyes, it wasn’t the vision of Cole that filled them, or at least what she thought he looked like.
It was Brant.
Always Brant.
Maybe that was because they’d never had any real closure. Just fighting, yelling, and then silence.
God, she’d hated the silence so much more than the yelling.
The silence crackled with tension—it was always filled with more meaning than when words were actually spoken.
It wasn’t the yelling that had killed their relationship.
It was the silence that had followed. When he had every opportunity to fix it—and didn’t.