Billionaire's Contract Engagement (Kings of the Boardroom #3)(17)

You are such a sucker, Celia. There should be a law about being so stupid when it came to men. But then she’d spend a lot of time behind bars if that were the case.

She felt Evan’s approach. It was hard to miss all that tension. Celia glanced up and met his gaze, and she didn’t at all try to disguise her fury. Let him stew. He was damn lucky she liked his mom so much or she would have denounced him in front of the entire hotel lobby.

The poor woman didn’t deserve to be humiliated just because her son was a first-rate ass.

Evan regarded her warily even as he turned to his mom. “We’ll catch up tomorrow, Mom, okay? Celia and I have had a long day and we’d like to go up and have dinner in the room.”

Lucy patted Evan on the cheek and then leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Of course, dear. I’ll see you both tomorrow for rehearsal.”

She reached back and squeezed Celia’s hand. “It was so nice meeting you, Celia.”

She walked toward Evan’s father and the two went in the direction of the restaurant, leaving Celia and Evan standing in the middle of the lobby.

“We’re on the top level,” Evan said evenly. He gestured toward the elevator and Celia strode in that direction.

They rode up in silence, the tension so thick Celia felt like the entire elevator would explode before it stopped. It was all she could not to tap her foot in agitation as she waited for the doors to open.

When they finally did, Celia stepped out, glanced down the hall and then back at Evan.

“My key,” she said pointedly. “What room am I in?”

Evan sighed and pointed at the end. “We’re in the two-bedroom suite on the end.”

Her mouth fell open. She reached forward and snatched the key card from his grasp. Then she spun on her heel and stalked down the hall. The hell she’d share a room with him. He could go find other accommodations or he could bunk with his brother. They’d probably have a lot to talk about. Maybe they could compare notes on Bettina.

She jammed the card into the lock, listened for the snick and then shoved it open. She stepped inside and slammed the door in Evan’s face.

Her feet were killing her, she was angry as hell and she was hungry. And she needed to figure out how to get off this damn island.

She kicked off her shoes and then sat on the edge of the couch next to the table with the hotel directory and a telephone. Surely the front desk could make arrangements for her departure.

The sound of the door opening had her on her feet again, and she glared indignantly as Evan walked in and shut the door behind him. He held up another key card in explanation.

He looked tired and resigned.

“Look, I know you’re angry.”

She held up a hand. “Don’t you dare patronize me. You have no idea how furious I am. Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

He blew out his breath and ran a hand through his hair. He tossed his suit coat onto the arm of the couch.

She pointed to the door with a shaking finger. “Out. I won’t share a suite with you. I don’t care how many bedrooms it has.”

“I need a drink,” Evan muttered.

The man wouldn’t even fight with her, and by God she wanted a fight.

“You never had any intention of listening to my ideas, did you?”

He stopped on his way over to the liquor cabinet and turned back around to stare at her. He had the audacity to look puzzled.

“I’ve been such an idiot. I can’t believe I fell for this crap. How this was the only time you could fit me in. Blah, blah, blah. How naive does that make me? How stupid does it make me?”

He held up a hand and took a step in her direction. “Celia…”

“Don’t Celia me,” she whispered furiously. It galled her that she could feel the prick of tears. He would not make her cry. She was through letting men make her cry.

She needed to pull it together and be professional. A really nasty, vivid curse word, one that she’d learned from her brothers burst into her mind. It was certainly appropriate under the circumstances.

Screw professional.

“I have had it with men who manipulate me because of my looks. Here’s a clue. I can’t help the way I look and it doesn’t give you the license to use me or make assumptions about my character. And it damn sure doesn’t give you the right to use me to lie to your mother because your fiancée humiliated you by dumping you for your brother. Here’s another clue. Crap happens. It happens all the time. Get over it.”

Evan’s hands closed over her shoulders. She tried to flinch away, but he held tight. There was honest regret in his eyes, but there was also determination. Stubborn determination.

“Sit down, Celia,” he ordered in a low voice.

She gaped at him.

“Please.”

It was the please that did it. Or maybe it was how tired and resigned he sounded. Or maybe it was the bleak light that entered his eyes. Or maybe she was just a flaming idiot who deserved everything she got

for being sucked into this in the first place.

She sank onto the sofa, her entire body trembling as he took a seat beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t expect you to believe I didn’t do this maliciously or to hurt you. I swear, I didn’t.”

She cast a sideways glance at him.