Dirty Rogue: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(121)

When I get back around to my seat to pick up my purse, Christian looks up at me, something strange in his eyes. “You sure you won’t stay another few minutes?” His phone, face down on the linen tablecloth, buzzes and he snatches it up, glances at the screen, and looks back at me again.

“I can’t,” I say, an ache beginning to form behind my eyes. Purse in hand, I make my way away from the table, stopping once to wave at all my friends. My throat tightens—I’m going to miss them—but I smile as brightly as I can before I turn around. I wouldn’t want them to think I was second-guessing myself.

I’m not second-guessing myself. I’m just feeling nostalgic for the way things were before Alec came into my life and turned it all upside down.

I laugh a little to myself as I head toward the coat check. Things weren’t simple then. Not any simpler than they are now, except for the added heartbreak. Part of me wanted to skip town, or skip jobs, do something differently.

The girl in front of the coat closet takes my slip and comes back with a lightweight rain jacket that I brought just in case the storm hit when I was making my way out. Lucky for me, the boom of the thunder—I can hear it clearly now, away from the music in the Swan’s main room—is right on top of us.

Outside, the rain is coming down in sheets, but I’ve walked home in worse. I’m not going to walk all the way back to the apartment—it’s at least fifteen blocks from the Swan—but there’s a long line for the taxis and only two or three waiting. I could be standing here another hour.

The dress I’m wearing isn’t one of Carolyn’s, it’s mine, so if it gets wet I won’t feel bad about it. There’s a subway entrance a block and a half from here. I’m going for it. Pulling the hood of my raincoat up over my hair, I step out from under the Swan’s awning and into the deluge.

Despite the raincoat, I’m immediately soaked. It’s a warm rain—today was ungodly hot, the kind of sticky New York summer day that makes you desperate for a storm—and the cold front that brought the thunder and lightning doesn’t seem to have chilled the droplets at all. It wakes me up a little. I pick up the pace.

I haven’t gone thirty steps when there’s a shout behind me. It’s hard to tell, but it sounds like my name. Did I leave something at the table? Did Chris realize how hard it’s raining and chase me out here to give me a ride? That guy is too much sometimes.

I turn, a half smile on my face, ready to tell him that it’s too late, I’m already wet—he should just go back inside and have another drink. Maybe two, considering he probably didn’t bother to put on a raincoat. It’ll be something we can laugh about later, when I call him from Seattle to tell him about my new place, about my new life.

But Christian isn’t the one running toward me in the rain, soaked from head to toe, green eyes alive and fiery even in the dim light of the streetlights.

It’s Alec.

My heart literally skips a beat, then crashes against my ribs as my brain registers his face, his wet clothes, his hard muscled body, coming toward me as fast as his legs will carry him.

“Jessica!” he calls again.

He’s here.

Alec came for me.





Chapter 48

Alec





I run after Jessica in the pouring rain, not giving a damn that I’m soaked to the skin in three seconds flat, not caring at all that I’ve left Nate to deal with a disgruntled crowd in front of the Swan. When we pulled up and I got out of the car, some of the people waiting in line for taxis began moving toward the town car, probably hoping to hire it out if he was just dropping off. Behind me, I hear him calling out the window at them, his words lost in the downpour.

Lightning arcs down from the sky, hitting one of the lightning rods on a nearby high rise. The storm is circling right over us—it’s a f*cking miracle I got the pilot to land the plane in New Jersey, just south of the storm’s eye, and it’s an even bigger miracle that Nate got us here in time.

Jessica hurries down the sidewalk. I’d know that walk anywhere, know that shape, that swing to the hips.

“Jessica!” I call out, already running. She’s halfway down the block and I can’t wait another f*cking second to see her. I can’t take it. My heart might burst out of my chest.

As she turns, I see the little smile on her face dissolve into confusion, and then her mouth forms a round O in shock.

“Jessica!” I call again, even though she’s clearly recognized me, because I am nearly out of my mind with the travel, the longing, the love running wild in my veins.

Then I’m there, in front of her, my breaths coming fast and water streaming down my hair, my face, into my eyes. I wipe at it with the back of my hand and then give a little laugh because f*ck it is pointless, there’s so much coming down it’s like the first day of Noah’s flood.

“What are you doing here?” Jessica says to me, bewildered.

The grand speech I planned out on the plane has been wiped from my mind by the sight of her beautiful face, the curves of her cheekbones, the way the water droplets play over her flawless skin, the tendrils of wet auburn hair flattened against her forehead. “I came to see you,” I say finally.

“For what?” she says, and a gust of wind threatens to knock her hood right off her head. She reaches up and holds it in place.