Victoria’s Secret Wish(68)

Vic looked like she’d seen a car run over a kitten.

Britt still looked like a lawyer. “You mean to say you don’t care if you ever see us again?” He tipped his chin up, narrowed his eyes. “If you ever hold her again?”

Oh, he cared. But he sure as fuck didn’t need Britt treating him like some damn charity case he was willing to share his wife with. Time to end this conversation, before he ended up spilling his guts. “I can get laid in any city I travel to.”

Vic flinched, but he wasn’t sticking around to watch any more. He stood and went for the door. “Thanks for everything, though. It has been fun.”

His shoes. He still had to put his damn shoes on. Fuck. He sat down on the couch and shoved his feet in, but the laces needed loosened. Fuck, fuck. He didn’t want to hear when she started crying. That had been a mean thing to say, and she didn’t deserve it. He got the laces loose enough to get the shoes all the way on. Hell, he’d tie them out by the elevator. He hurried to the door, had one bag looped over his shoulder, when Vic put a hand on his arm.

Day of reckoning. He turned. Tears poured down her face.

She put a business card in his free hand. “Here.”



Fantasies, Inc.

Victoria West-Grant, proprietor

Victoria@fantasymountain.com

1-888-FANTINC, Ext. 1



“In case you change your mind, please call. Or email.”

Goddammit, she looked so fragile, so hurt. “Vic. Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re more than a lay. I just can’t do it, though. I can’t be the third wheel.” He pulled her against his chest, crushing the card in his hand.

“It’s not like that.” She sobbed against his chest. “We love you, and want to spend time with you.”

Wrong in so many ways. How’d they get here? If she kept crying, he’d start too. “Really, this isn’t what I want.” What is it you want? Hadn’t that been the businessman’s line in Pretty Woman? And she’d wanted it all. The picket fence, marriage… “When I get a little older, I need to find somebody–one somebody–and settle down. Get married. Have what you and Britt have. I can’t spend my life being the outsider, an add-on.” They’d always have each other–look how they kept planning to invite him for things, sex, moving into their suite, coming to their home. It was always them throwing him crumbs.

“God.” She squeezed him tighter, sobbed again. “Please, promise you’ll think about it.”

He couldn’t think about it, or he’d make the biggest mistake of his life. Pushing her away, prying her arms from his side, he closed his eyes for strength. “I can’t.”

She stepped back, and he saw Britt leaning in the doorway.

He lifted the other bag to his shoulder, pulled the door open, and dropped the crumpled business card on the little table by the door. “Goodbye.”

* * * *

Victoria melted against Britt. This wasn’t at all how she’d expected today to go. She’d woken up hoping David would want to go home with them. Stupid of her to assume something so far-out. Somehow, she’d thought he was in love too. But she’d obviously misread him.

“Vic. Love, I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out. Give him a few days. I’ll contact him.” But Britt didn’t sound very convinced. He had to be hurting too. Poor guy. What a mess.

They had a press conference soon. As planned, but not publicized, the ship had arrived at port during the night, so passengers could make an early morning exit hours before the press expected them. Anybody wanting to make an anonymous departure had the chance. She and Britt, however, would be meeting and greeting long into the afternoon. No doubt there’d be questions about the blog leak. “Ugh. Peyton should be here any minute with her blog post. I’d better go fix my makeup.”

Britt stepped back and looked at her, his brows drawn down. “Right. I’ll call Mark and have him bring the agreement over for her to sign. But if you’re not up to it, we can cancel the press conference–”

“No, no.” She’d need the distraction. Plenty of time to feel hurt and sad after they got home, when it wasn’t so fresh. “I’ll be out in a few.”

She heard a knock at the door just as she freshened her lipstick. All traces of the smeared makeup were gone, and she’d smoothed on new in its place. From the voices out in the living area, both Peyton and Mark had arrived. She stopped and slid her shoes on. Then, holding her head high, went out to meet her Judas.

Peyton’s eyes looked much puffier than hers, and she wore an unattractive pout while she read the contract pages in her hand, seated at the writing desk. She looked up when Victoria pulled a chair over. “Not really fair, since you’ve got two lawyers here and I’ve got none to check this out.”