Take Two (The Jilted Bride #1)(9)

“Mr. Maxwell insisted that you go home and rest for a day. Those were his exact words ma’am,” she turned red and nervously darted her eyes back and forth.

I didn’t say a word. I looked Sophie up and down, folding my arms and giving her the coldest look I could manage. She withered under my glare, averting her eyes to the floor and shifting her weight from foot to foot.

I hated being mean to Sophie. I gave in. “Fine. Tell the driver to take me to Trump SoHo.”

Sophie frowned and nodded her head. “Follow me.”

I knew Mr. Maxwell was trying to make sure I was completely sane before returning, but I was annoyed. I needed to return to work to not only catch up on some projects, but to make hotel reservations for the next few weeks. I’d sold my condo months ago, and I needed a place to stay while I shopped for a new one.

When we pulled up to Trump SoHo, the driver opened my door and extended his hand.

“Thank you sir,” I said.

He tipped his hat and closed the door. Sophie rolled the window down and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Carter.”

I walked inside and saw that the hotel’s lobby was more intimate than I remembered: The towering ceiling gave way to chocolate colored columns that were flanked by warm light-boxes and soft brown furniture. There was a slight glow in the room, accentuated by dark wall panels and slender windows.

Though no other guests were waiting at the front desk, all of the agents were busy talking on the phone.

A bellman stepped in front of me. “How may I help you Miss?”

“I need to speak to the general manager. It’s an emergency.”

“Certainly,” he said and signaled for me to follow him down a long hallway. “What is your name Miss?”

“Melody Sco—Melody Carter,” I stammered.

“Wait here please,” he stepped inside a room concealed by frosted glass.

I took a deep breath and waited ten minutes before Ryan Warren came out of the room. He was just as I remembered him—tall and muscular, messy brown hair, and bright brown eyes that could see right through me.

“Melody? What are you doing here? I thought you would be halfway around the world with Mr. I Could Buy New York If I Wanted To by now.”

“We never got married,” I forced a lump back down my throat. “Well, we had the wedding and we were about to get married but—”

“I’m so sorry,” he hugged me. “What can I do for you?”

Don’t cry…Don’t cry…

“I really need a place to stay for a couple of weeks while I search for a condo, and I was hoping for a discount. I know you don’t—”

“A discount?” he scoffed. “Melody, I would never charge you for anything. You know that.”

Maybe I should’ve dated him after all.

“Thank you so much!”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll even put you in one of our penthouse suites. My wife helped to design them so I’m sure she’d be upset if I didn’t take the chance to show one off.”

Maybe not.

“I really appreciate this,” I wiped away a tear. “If you ever need a mention in the paper or anything I swear—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he kissed my hand and led me back to the lobby.

I sat in a cab trying to calm my shaking hands. I’d texted Sean earlier to let him know I would be coming over to get the rest of my things. I asked him not to be there.

When the cab dropped me off, I stood in front of the brick brownstone and reminisced: Sean and I picked out the yellow roses and hydrangeas that sat underneath the windows. We picked the front door with frosted glass and gold trim. We even designed the “Love Lives Here” welcome mat.

I wonder how he explained everything to his housekeeper...

I swallowed and rang the doorbell.

There was no answer. I rang the doorbell again.

“Who is it?” a woman’s voice came over the intercom.

I pressed the red button. “It’s me, Hannah! Melody!”

The door opened immediately, but instead of seeing his housekeeper Hannah, I found myself face to face with blonde bitch.

Her hair was in a short and shiny bob, not a single strand was out of place. She was nervously blinking her eyes, searching for something to say.

I glared at her and resisted the urge to slap her senseless.

“I’m sorry,” she took a step back. “I didn’t recognize you with red hair.”

“Well, I still don’t recognize you so…”

She looked hurt. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Look, I’m not sure if there’s a proper protocol for meeting the home-wrecker, but excuse me if I didn’t call you. I texted Sean and let him know I was coming earlier. I was living here a couple weeks ago you know?”

I felt my heart swell and blinked away a tear.

I can’t let this bitch see me cry.

“My apologies,” she stepped aside and let me into the house.

I walked past the open foyer, past the state of the art kitchen, and into the room that used to be my office. Upon entering the room, I nearly broke down.

The pictures we bought while vacationing in Greece were still hanging on the wall. The window coverings we purchased in Italy, the handmade beige and ivory satin drapes, were still flowing down to the floor.