5
West
Club M is the last place I want to be. I'm surrounded by laughing, talking, dancing people. They're all here to have a good time, and I want no part of it.
I'm still reeling. It's been roughly thirty-six hours since Mel announced that she’s leaving. The initial storm of emotions—shock, disbelief, and denial—have passed. What’s left is an indescribable sense of loss.
I need a drink.
Bradford Temple is droning on about something. I run my hand through my hair and shift restlessly, hoping he'll take the hint. He does not. Oblivious as ever, he drones on about the yacht he bought. Rob is more direct than me. He gulps down his drink and nods crisply at Bradford. “Excuse me, Temple,” he says, holding up his empty glass. “I need a refill. West, coming?”
Thank fuck. We make our escape, and Bradford, who’s still boasting about his yacht, snags another unsuspecting victim.
“I owe you one.”
Rob grins. “You certainly do.” He gives me a questioning look. “You don't look too good. Are you coming down with something?”
I’m wearing a mask, and Rob can’t actually tell what I look like. I look fine. But that’s not the point. Rob’s feeling me out about Mel’s departure. It must bother him as much as it bothers me, but my friend would rather shove slivers underneath his fingernails than talk about his feelings.
A blonde woman in a scarlet red dress hurries to the bar, cutting in front of us. I stop and wave her through. “I'm fine,” I lie.
“Really?” My friend’s voice is skeptical.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Really.”
Rob lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Suit yourself,” he says. The woman at the bar finishes ordering, so he steps up. He eyes her absently—it’s impossible to ignore how the dress hugs every curve of her body—but his heart is clearly not in it. “I'll have a Scotch, please.”
The bartender, Farid, nods. “We have an eighteen-year Aberlour. Would that work?” Nice. Farid Sakarya is very good at his job. Rob ordered the Abelour at the last cervical cancer benefit. Sakarya not only remembers, but he recognizes Rob through his mask. I'd try to poach him for one of my hotels, but I’m pretty sure Xavier would get cranky and retaliate.
The blonde eyes Rob. A mask covers most of her face, but her interest is unmistakable. “I never understood the appeal of Scotch,” she says, her voice so low that I strain to hear her over the music.
Rob gives her an inquiring look. “You're not a fan?”
Great. He's going to flirt with the woman. I mean, I don’t blame him—her breasts are absolutely magnificent—but fuck me, I want to be anywhere but here. I look around the room, trying to find a quiet corner to hide. How long do I have to stay? The silent auction ends at midnight, and I feel compelled to stay until the bidding closes, doing my part for the fundraiser. If Rob weren’t otherwise occupied, I’d give him my tablet, tell him to bid on my behalf, and head to my room. But he is. He’s talking to the woman, a smile on his face, and I don’t want to intrude.
Farid pours me a beer. I take it from him with a nod of thanks. The woman introduces herself to Rob now, her head tilted in a way that feels very familiar.
Something about her makes me pause.
She licks her lower lip, and unexpected desire slams into me. With the fuck? Where did that come from?
It’s probably her dress. I’ve always been partial to a woman in red.
I take my beer and turn away. Rob doesn't need me to play wingman; he’s doing perfectly well on his own.
And then the woman—Cat, apparently—looks straight at me. Her mask, an elaborately beaded, jeweled, and feathered affair, covers most of her face. The lighting is dim, but I think her eyes are gray.
She says something that stops me cold.
“I would ask if you’d show me around,” she murmurs, never taking her eyes off me. “Both of you.”
She's propositioning me. She's propositioning both of us.
For a second, a split second, I’m almost tempted. My cock stirs in my trousers. My skin tingles. My blood quickens.
And then, just as quickly as it appeared, my desire drains away. Because this woman is beautiful, but she’s not Mel. Yes, she’s about Mel’s height, and she’s got Mel’s build, but she isn’t her. I’m sure she’ll be eager and enthusiastic, but no matter how fantastic she is, she’s not the woman I want.
The woman I want is leaving to go work at Tremaine. No more morning chats over cups of coffee. No more late-night emails. I wanted her, and I couldn’t make a move because she’s my employee. Now she’s leaving, and it feels like it’s all too late. It feels like I’m never going to see Mel again.