I follow him, anticipating the coffee. Afterward, I’ll shower and get myself more back on track.
But when Nate opens the door, it isn’t room service. It’s an elderly gentleman in an expensive-looking navy suit. Trim and stylish, he has wide shoulders set straight, his spine admirably vertical. Everything about him appears expensive except for the watch on his wrist. That looks…ordinary, something anybody could buy anywhere.
Something about his face feels familiar, but my caffeine-deprived brain can’t seem to process what I’m seeing.
“Good morning, Nate.” He walks inside, his steps measured and stately. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says to me, his tone surprisingly avuncular. “I’m Barron Sterling.”
I feel like somebody just kicked me in the face, and my stomach shudders and churns like a broken washing machine in a spin cycle. My brain refuses to process for a moment, then finally starts working again. Oh, crap. Is this the Barron Sterling? He doesn’t seem like the “prostrate before me, unworthy shits” type.
“Hi,” I squeak. “I’m Evie Parker.”
He gives me a mildly chiding look. “Tsk, my dear. You are Evie Parker no longer.”
I’m not?
“Evie Sterling has such a lovely ring to it.”
What? How does he know already? Nate didn’t call him, did he?
“Congratulations on your nuptials.” Barron pulls me into a tight embrace. “And welcome to the family.”
Chapter Eighteen
Evie
For a man with his cutthroat reputation, Barron is a great hugger. If I could make myself forget that I’m being embraced by the head of the Sterling family and the fifth or sixth richest person in the world, I’d say it was even warm and sweet. And really welcoming.
But right now, all I can really focus on is the fact that I’m hung over, I haven’t showered yet, and I’m without my underwear. My ass feels extra bare and exposed under the dress. It’s a thousand times worse than going commando at the auction. At least then I wasn’t trapped in Barron’s unmovable arms.
Still, I have no choice but to return the hug and pray I don’t smell like a dead skunk. Now I wish I’d at least brushed my teeth in the bathroom. Some first impression I must be making.
“You should’ve called,” Nate says, his voice extra friendly and casual.
I realize Nate’s still in his towel. I should’ve put out something for him to wear before Barron showed up.
Technically it isn’t your fault because you didn’t know Barron was coming.
True, but it’s still my job, even if my head is so fuzzy and throbbing that two plus two is beyond me at the moment.
Barron finally pulls away and arches an eyebrow. Nate pastes on a smile, but it’s so obviously fake that I feel bad for him. “I’m just saying we would’ve been more prepared. Or what if you missed us? We could’ve checked out.”
“Ha!” Barron snorts. “Who gets up early and checks out the day after their wedding night?”
Wedding night? Oh, shit. The pit in my belly is turning into a sinkhole. Now if I could just disappear into it…
“I’ll go ahead and order some Earl Grey tea and sugar cookies,” Nate says.
Yes, great idea! Let’s prolong the visit! On the other hand, there’s no graceful way to kick Barron out. The glint in his eyes says he’s staying. I smile the smallest smile I can get away with. It still hurts my cheeks. “Why don’t you have a seat and enjoy your tea, while I go freshen up?”
“Of course,” Barron says like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to just barge in on our “wedding” night/morning, and starts moving toward the seating area.
Nate turns on a lamp by the couch, and that’s when I see my white thong on the seat of one of the armchairs.
Oh, shit!
It sort of blends in with the ivory upholstery, but I really don’t want Barron noticing it. And how did it end up there last night? I don’t remember that either. I doubt Nate and I had sex. We couldn’t possibly, not when we were so out of it that we have no recollection of anything. Aligning the right body parts would’ve been beyond us.
You could’ve blown him, my unhelpful subconscious offers, sending electric shivers along my spine.