Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(74)

“Jem hates these too, but he wanted the press to see him sober,” Liam remarks as if reading my mind. “And calm; he’s calm when you’re around which is why he wanted you here.”

Calm? They haven’t heard us when we disagree over something. Hell, sometimes one wrong word, and we don’t talk for half a day. Jem’s been edgier over the last week too and my fear that our three months of Jem and Ruby’s happy place is on the wane increases.

“He said that?”

“In not so many words.”

Cerys reappears from the Ladies and tugs Liam’s arm. “I’m tired, can we go yet?”

“Having as much fun as me?” I ask, twisting my glass in my hand.

“It’s overwhelming,” replies Cerys. “But I guess you’ll get used to it once you’re up there getting the awards.”

I smile at her taking time to talk to me. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Oh, you will,” says Liam, “otherwise Jem’s going to kick some ass until you get recognised.”

If Jem doesn’t come back soon, he’s going to be the one getting his ass kicked.

Once Liam and Cerys go, I decide it’s time me and Jem left, too. If this was a normal party, I’d keep going but this fakery… no thanks.

Unable to find Jem in this room, I head to the hallway outside, past the bouncers. I hope they take a good look and allow me back in because they already stare as if I crashed the place.

Kristie heads down the hotel hallway toward me, her assets spilling out of her tight white dress, unsteady on her sky-high heels. She pauses when she reaches me, attempting to focus on my face.

“You looking for Jem?” she asks.

“Hi, Kristie. How are you?”

“Pretty good.” She rubs the pink lipstick at the corner of her mouth with a finger. “He’s back there. I just finished with him.”

However hard I try, I know my reaction to her words isn’t hidden on my face. “Right. Okay.”

“Interesting that he’s chosen you,” she continues “But then he’s always trying to put back together the broken little girls.”

“Rather than f-ucking ageing rock widows?”

“How do you know he’s not doing both?” For emphasis, Kristie adjusts the front of her dress.

f-ucking bitch. “Right. Sure.”

Kristie cocks a brow. “You know what me and Jem have in common?”

“I’m too polite to say,” I snap, my distrust of Jem morphing into anger. He said he wouldn’t f-uck anyone else. He promised.

“More than he does with you.”

“Mm hmm.” I look past her, hoping Jem appears from the nearby bathrooms, but praying he doesn’t at the same time.

Kristie bends toward me. “Silly girl. Why would a man who cares about nothing care about you?”

“Then you don’t know Jem,” I retort.

“And you do?”

“Yes.”

“Ask yourself that question again.”

Jem appears from a doorway down the hall and stops dead as he sees me talking to Kristie. She’s saying something else, but I’m not listening. Kristie practically said he’d just f*cked her and now here he is appearing from a room in the direction she came from. Catching site of someone behind me, Kristie air kisses a false goodbye and teeters away. I step to one side and rest against the wall waiting for Jem to reach me.

“You okay?” he asks warily as he approaches.

I check out his clothes for disarray and step closer. Jem’s clothes are intact but he smells the same as the woman who stood in the same spot a minute ago.

“You f-ucking, *!” I yell and shove him hard in the chest before he tries to touch me.

“What the f-uck? What the hell have I done now?”

“You mean who have you done!” I shout.

Jem grabs my arm and steers me to a quieter part of the hallway. “What the f-uck are you talking about?”

“How dumb do you think I am?” I hiss, trembling. “You disappear for ages and then her!”

“What?” Realisation dawns in his eyes. “No! Jesus, Ruby.”

“You smell of her! You f-ucking bastard! Why bring me here at all if you were going to spend the evening with your f-uck buddy!”

Before he can answer, I stomp off to the elevators. “And don’t f-ucking follow me!”

Jem makes the wise choice, and I’m alone in the elevator when I head up to our suite.





Chapter Thirty



Ruby



I wake the next morning with a dry mouth and headache, the extra champagne I drank when I got back to the suite last night seemed like a good idea at the time. Stumbling out of bed, I head to the kitchen area, passing Jem on the sofa, who’s sleeping under a white hotel blanket. The tears threaten again; but I cried enough of those last night, my aching chest a reminder of how much.

How could he? Jem promised we were exclusive, I didn’t think things had changed. If anything, I thought we were stronger.

This is the real Jem Jones and he’s a still a f*cked up mess if this is how he’s going to behave.

“You calmed down yet?” he asks as I reappear with a glass.

He’s naked apart from his briefs, tight abs tensing as he bends down to pick up his jeans. He pulls them on and pushes his hair from his face. My shocked silence hides my level of pissed off.