Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(53)

"Steven, it's Emmy."

"Emmaline, you better be on the way in to work, but I'm guessing by the two one two area code you are still in New York."

"I am. Sorry. I hope you got my message yesterday about what happened."

"I did. But Emmaline, this pitch is important. I assumed you would be on the next flight back here."

"I'm sorry. No. But the pitch deck is ready, it's saved—"

"Not good enough, Emmaline. I'm not sure you really value your job here. We were counting on you to bring this in. I was counting on you. I didn't want to have to make this public," he dropped his voice, "but if we don't hit our quarterly revenue projections, I'm afraid there'll have to be some downsizing. I'm sure you don't want to be responsible for people losing their jobs."

My stomach fell further. The reality was I wouldn't put him past laying people off just to make his point. And I was especially curious about how much he took out of the company to pay for his lifestyle and his flashy deep-sea fishing boat, The Lucky Hooker.

"Of course not, Steven. This was unavoidable. And there's no way I can meet the noon deadline even if I got on the next flight."

"You'll call in then."

"I can't." I strengthened my resolve and swallowed. "I'll be with David. I need to make sure he's okay today after yesterday."

"Emmaline, I expect you to participate in this pitch."

I blew out a frustrated breath, not wanting to say a hard No again. "I'll try."

"Good. It will have to do. Just know I'm extremely disappointed in your work ethic. I'll text you the call in number."

"O—"

The line went dead. "'Kay," I finished lamely.

"Ugh," I complained to the empty hotel room. "Steven is so annoying!"

God, I really needed coffee. I'd started my morning embarrassed, now I was pissed off too. This was definitely not a situation to be in without several shots of espresso.

I threw yesterday’s clothes in my bag. Retracing my steps around the room to make sure I didn't forget anything, I opened the wardrobe even though I hadn't used it and froze.

A couple of men's suits and three shirts hung there. My gaze tracked to the narrow set of shelves where I saw underwear, socks, and a blue tie laid out neatly. Next to the tie was a toiletries bag with the initials T.M monogrammed on the side.

What the hell?

Wait. I knew Trystan was a part-owner. He said he could get a room, but this must be his room.

I frowned.

But why did he have a permanent room at a hotel in the city where he lived? His apartment wasn't that far away.

Unless . . .

Oh my God.

Acid from my empty stomach threatened to crawl up my throat.

This . . . this was where he had all his hookups so he never had to take anyone home for the night.

I stepped backward, my calves colliding with the bed, and sank onto the edge. Did we basically hook up? Was I one of his hookups?

Shame and humiliation tore up and down inside me, free-wheeling with all my insecurities until my stomach was aching and in shreds.

I'd been touching myself while he listened, from this very same bed where he'd heard countless other women screaming his name. God, he must have been laughing at how easily I came apart for him. For a stranger.

So ironic that it would be in his hookup hotel.

I suddenly felt dirty and . . . stupid.

I was so, so stupid.

My nose burned as I fought tears. God, what a morning.

I took a deep breath, trying to think clearly. It wasn't like he'd forced me. I was angry at myself more than I was at him.

But he wasn't getting any more from me, certainly not tears. And I was not staying another night here in this high-end bordello like a concubine. Ugh.

I stood and took five deep, long breaths. Then I walked calmly to where I'd laid my purse. I picked it up, grabbed the handle of my wheelie bag, and headed toward the door.

Trystan's phone was buzzing again on the desk, but I left it there and opened the door of the room.

Two seconds later I returned to the desk and picked up the damned phone.

Because of David.

Obviously.



* * *



"What do you mean, there's no bill?" I whisper shouted at the poor frightened girl at the front desk.

I was trying not to make a scene, but failing miserably.

"Th-there just isn't. It's Mr. Montgomery's room, and it's already paid for." She lifted her shoulders helplessly. "It's just his. There's no billing attached."

"But—but what about the food? My dinner? And the wine?"

"Same?" She winced.

"Asshole!" I exploded and immediately regretted it. "Sorry. It's not your fault. I just, I never would have stayed if I'd known."

"Why not?" she asked in confusion. A phone rang incessantly in the back office.

"Ugh, never mind. Can you call me a cab?"

"Mr. Montgomery has a car—"

"No, just no. Please. For the love and dignity of all pussies everywhere, please just call me a cab."

The girl sucked her lips between her teeth, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold in a laugh.