I swallow past the lump in my throat. Roarke’s head peers up over the racks of designer clothes. Did he hear my name?
His face pales and his eyes dart over to the woman with me. Seeing the one woman who was shopping, join a woman already with us, I can see that he already understands what just happened. He’s way too smart not to know when someone gets caught in the act. Hell, he’s probably seen the live version of this go down in discovery more than the host of Cheaters has.
“What are you doing here?” He weaves through the racks of clothes.
When he clears them and stands on the carpeted path, a little blonde girl follows, her head peering out through the clothes like they’re curtains.
“Reese,” the woman says and the girl goes to her mom’s side. The mom who’s holding lingerie in her hand.
“Oh sir, I have the receipt for the suits. You can pick them up next Monday. I can ring up those bras and panties next.” The sales associate talks while she’s headed down the path toward our group but everyone’s eyes are on me and Roarke.
“I’d ask for an explanation but I don’t need one,” I say with deathly calm.
“You had me followed?” he asks with the nerve to make it sound like I did something wrong.
“I told you I knew the best.”
A hollow laugh floats out of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t you just ask me if you thought something was going on?”
“I don’t need to ask you. I have proof now.” I cross my arms keeping my distance because I knew this was going to be the outcome regardless of how many times I begged not to be right.
“Proof?”
“Yes.” I sneer back at him and point behind me at the blonde woman.
“I don’t think you do.”
Chelsea grabs the PI’s phone away from her, runs up to Roarke and holds the screen millimeters away from his face. “We have it right here. Who buys lingerie for a woman who’s not their girlfriend?” She points to the blonde woman who’s now staring at Roarke with sympathy in her eyes.
He glances over to me. “Maybe if Hannah would like to have a one on one conversation, we could clear this all up and you’ll see there’s no proof of anything.” He’s mad. I hear it in his tone. In the way his jaw is clenching and how he’s holding his hands in fists at his sides.
Well screw him.
“I don’t need some conversation where you sweet talk me and convince me that I’m imagining things. That my insecurity of being cheated on before is bringing doubts into my subconscious. Would you be okay with another man buying me lingerie?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” He shifts his stance and I’ve never seen him so indignant except for when we were in court.
“Then it’s done. Thank you, Roarke, for proving to me you are exactly who I thought you were in the first place.”
I storm off down the aisle, not caring one iota that other shoppers are starting to take notice.
“You’re being ridiculous!” he calls out after me. “Give me five minutes in the cafe and this will all be cleared up.”
“I’d knee you in the nuts if I didn’t think it would harm my baby,” Chelsea spits out, following me.
“I’m really disappointed in you, Roarke. I thought you were one of the good ones,” Victoria says and then I hear nothing else and I don’t stop until I’m flagging down a taxi back on the street.
Just as they promised, Victoria and Chelsea are at my side, prepared to piece me back together.
I’m just not sure all the broken pieces will fit back together like they did the first time around.
Chapter Thirty
The next day I sit in my office, my eyes so puffy that I feel like a blowfish after a night of going through two boxes of tissues. The girls tried to spend the night, but I told them to go home to their men. That I’d take a sleeping pill and go to bed.
Roarke hasn’t tried to reach out to me since I left him standing between the designer dresses and sexy lingerie of Bloomingdale’s. I might never look at a nightie the same way again.
My phone dings and I don’t want to acknowledge it, but there are too many loose ends with the gala a week away and so I have no choice but to see who it is.
Gwen: I’m flying in this weekend. Can I crash with you?
Me: YES! When do you get in?
It’s as though someone up above is sending me a gift. Gwen is a bit of a wild child and will surely take me clubbing and help me forget all my troubles. She did a good job after Todd and I’m sure she’ll be up for the challenge this time, too.
Gwen: Saturday at six. I’ll catch a cab to your place.
Me: I can’t wait to see you.
Gwen: Me either. I’ll call you later.
Me: :)
I set my phone down, my mood a bit lighter, but the memory of Roarke not explaining what was going on when I was standing right in front of him still lurks in the background. If the situation was so innocent, why wouldn’t he have said that in front of his side piece?
Because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
Jackass.
My phone dings again and I grab it with a smile already on my face anticipating whatever it is Gwen has texted me.
Roarke: You owe me two more favors.
I seethe and see red as I stare down at his text. I’d thought that the favors were over once he got me under him in bed. Just the remembrance of his lips and hands makes my body tingle much to my utter dismay.
Me: Seriously?
Roarke: Would you like to see the contract?
I inhale a deep breath.
Me: You’d cancel the venue?
Roarke: Do YOU think I would? You seem to think you know me so well…
Me: What do you want?
If he wants a favor, fine. I’ll do it.
Roarke: My condo at noon today.
Me: No.
Roarke: No you won’t meet me?
Me: If I have to meet you it has to be in public.
Roarke: I can’t have people overhearing what I have to tell you.
I don’t reply. This is a non-negotiable for me. I can’t risk falling back into his bed.
Roarke: Fine. I’ll arrange for a secluded table at Torrio’s. Final offer.
Me: Fine.
Roarke: Try to come with an open mind.
Me: Are you bringing your girlfriend?
He doesn’t respond to my question but I see the three dots appear.
Roarke: Noon.
I toss my phone on my desk, my eyes staring at the time on my computer. I have three hours before I have to be there. After this, there will be one more favor. I should tell him to go to hell. But I’ve seen a lot of different sides of Roarke and one is his persistence to get what he wants. I wouldn’t put it past him to cancel the venue in order for me to hear him out, and we have a contract that says he’d be within his rights to do it. Bastard.
Three hours later, I walk in Torrio’s to find Roarke sitting at my table.
Some nerve, this guy.
I step down the stairs surprised at how empty it is in here, but then again, I’ve never come here mid-day before.