Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
This was supposed to be a business arrangement. It was supposed to be a fun physical activity, a ‘revenge fuck’ for Raven and me to both get back at Evan for the wrongdoing he committed against us. But as we leave the conference room behind us, I keep her hand in mine as I lead the way down the hall to the elevator.
I’m about to push the call button when the elevator dings and the doors open before us. Bronson Faulkner emerges with a couple of his cronies, clearly ready for a nightcap. He’s the younger of the Faulkner brothers and more importantly, he’s Evan’s father.
“So I—” Bronson says before the entire group stops, staring. In the silence, Bronson’s eyes go to me, then to the clearly still-disheveled Raven, and to our hands, which are clasped together.
I stare back boldly, daring him to say a single word. Bronson finally gives me a short nod that I return before he leads his buddies away, leaving Raven and me in the empty hallway. “Holy… fuck,” Raven whispers, her face going pale. “Was that…?”
“Yes,” I reply, letting go of her hand to push her into the elevator.
That certainly wasn’t a good look. I don’t care for myself. I can handle any consequences Bronson or Evan dish out. But Raven? I calculate the number of contacts she made tonight who simply won’t return her call once word gets around that I fucked her in the conference room at the charity event. A relationship of sorts is one thing, public sex inside Faulkner’s own kingdom quite another.
And word will definitely spread. Evan will make sure of that because it paints both Raven and me in a poor light, and he would take delight in that for sure.
My body turns tense, and I hope she doesn’t know. For her sake, I give her a semblance of a smile and kiss her knuckles once more.
Downstairs, the event has wrapped up and people are milling about the hotel lobby, waiting for their chauffeurs and cars to come to the front, and Raven excuses herself to the restroom. While I wait for her, Ollie, of all people, emerges from down the hallway, looking surprised to see me.
“Dylan,” Ollie says, extending a hand again. “Where’s your guest, Raven, was it?”
“Touching up her makeup,” I reply. “The restroom is always crowded as everyone heads out.”
“How true,” Ollie agrees.
“Care for a drink with us?” I offer him, hoping to keep Raven a bit longer tonight and possibly undo any damage caused.
“No, no… I think I’ve had enough for one night, and my driver’s waiting for me,” Ollie says, pointing toward the door.
“Next time, then.”
Ollie claps me on the shoulder, making his exit, and I turn to search the hall where the restroom is for Raven. But I don’t see her. How long is that line?
Finally, my phone pings.
Decided to take a cab home. Safer that way. Thank you for tonight.
I stare at the message, more hurt than I should be. She took a cab and left?
Frustration and disappointment course through me as I go to the valet, who calls for my car to come around. “Did you see a young lady in red come by here?”
“Yes sir,” the valet says. “She grabbed a taxi just a few minutes ago.”
Fuck.
Vince arrives, and I climb into my backseat, telling him, “Home, please.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t ask any questions even though I catch him watching in the rearview with the questions obviously there. As we pull away into late night traffic, I stare at her text, not understanding how this woman is making me feel like this. Like I just fucked up and lost her.
CHAPTER 9
RAVEN
Still thankful that the coat check room attendant doesn’t ask any questions nearly forty minutes later, I unlock my apartment door. Stepping inside, I let out a sigh of relief although I’m still unsettled from the shitstorm that happened.
I’ll admit I freaked out. I’ve never been one for casual sex, and as much as I wish I could just shut out all thoughts of him, Evan’s still on my mind. Judging me. Hating me. And belittling me for his own amusement. There are also thoughts of screaming at him all the vile shit he deserves… but still. I wish I didn’t care about him at all.
Realization that what he said was right—Dylan didn’t hire me, but was all too willing to fuck me—hit hard once my orgasm faded. And what had seemed like a sexy risk of being caught doing something naughty where we shouldn’t had suddenly been an ugly reality when I saw the shrewd judgment in Bronson’s eyes and the amused smirks on his cohorts’ faces. The charity and the funds they raised were definitely not the talk of their nightcap. I was. And not in a flattering light.
He's probably telling Evan what a bullet he dodged with me right now. As far as he’s concerned, I’ve been confirmed as the social climber, gold digger, and disposable arm candy they likely thought I was.