His grabs my arm, his grip bruisingly tight. “Alice, please.”
“You’re hurting me. Let go.”
Without a word, he does as asked. We both stare at the lingering red marks left by his fingers. He swears quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”
“You should know, your grandma threatened to have you thrown off the board at Elliot Corp. if I stayed,” I report. “She also said she’d ensure you were outbid on any further hotels you tried to purchase and would be gasp horror unwelcome in Denver society. Just so you know…”
A deep line sits between his brows. Like for a moment, he’s not even sure if he believes she could spew such poison.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Of course I don’t want you to leave.” His fingers curl into fists. “It’s bullshit. She doesn’t have the bids or the necessary level of support to oust me. As for the rest, I’ll deal with it. You don’t need to worry about any of that.”
“Okay. I’m tired…I just…I want to sleep,” I say, wavering as I get to my feet. He reaches out to steady me, but I hold my palm up in a stop signal. The alcohol didn’t help in the least. I’m not numb. My heart is a raw open wound. Messy as fuck. “The bitch of it is, I thought you got me, I thought we understood each other. I felt safe here and now that’s all shot to shit.”
He rises, moving in slow motion like he’s hurt. “Tell me what to say. How do I fix this?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“What are you doing?”
It’s around eight the next morning when Beck looks up at me. “Alice. Hey.”
“You slept on the floor?” I ask, standing in the doorway to one of the fourth-floor guest bedrooms. Still wearing yesterday’s clothes. They’re crumpled, since I slept in them.
The fourth level is set out much like the ones below. An open area in the middle with a sitting room and powder room. Bedrooms and bathrooms to the back of the building, and media and games rooms at the front. But Beck isn’t even lying on the nearby couch. Nope. He’s sprawled out on the floor with his suit jacket balled up and put to use as a cushion beneath his head. Princess naps on a nearby antique side table.
After our talk, I’d needed some space. Guess he either didn’t get the message or figured a few yards would do.
Still nothing from him.
“Beck, you slept on the floor outside my door?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He winces, sitting up. “Several reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Well, firstly, if you’d needed something during the night then I could have gotten it for you.” He climbs to his feet, shoving a hand through his messy hair.
“I didn’t even know you were here.” I frown. My system is running on insufficient coffee and Advil for this level of crazy.
“But you would have found out if you’d opened the door. Like you just did. And also if you’d wanted to tell me off some more I’d have been right here within easy hearing.”
I shake my head, stepping around him to head for the stairs. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.”
“I, ah, was pretty surprised when you weren’t in our bed last night.” He follows close behind, down the steps and into our room. “You didn’t have to go upstairs. I would have given you your space if you’d said that’s what you wanted.”
A grunt from me. Hangovers make me surly. Same goes for being betrayed.
“If you’d just said—”
I make an about turn outside my closet. “I want space.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Inside, I grab some clean jeans, a long-sleeve tee, and boring cotton underwear. Today the glamor care factor is so low it wouldn’t even register. Today I officially do not give a fuck. And all the while, Beck stands out in the bedroom and watches. How this is giving me space, I don’t know. But I don’t have the energy to argue.
“Alice, I’m sorry,” he says, his expression blank. “I promise I’ll never lie to you about anything ever again.”
I sigh.
“I called Emma, got the name of her favorite therapist.” He swallows. “Later I’ll get an appointment.”
“That’s a good idea.”
I make for the bathroom on the other side of the room. Of course he follows. But I’m excellent at ignoring people when I choose to do so. Just watch me go. I dump my clothes on the bench and grab a pack of Advil out of the cupboard before downing the recommended dose. Next I brush my teeth, because gross. Gin, mornings, and heartbreak do not make for good breath.
He leans a shoulder against the door jamb, watching me all the while. I don’t have the heart to shut the door in his face. Maybe I should, but I can’t. In the mirror, his forehead is furrowed. “Are you planning on leaving me…just out of curiosity?”
“I’m still here.”
He nods, thinking it over. “It occurred to me that perhaps I hadn’t groveled sufficiently given the situation and everything. I haven’t particularly had occasion to grovel before. If a girl was pissed at me over something then I tended to just ignore it or move on. But I have reason to believe that should I apply myself to groveling I would be quite excellent at it. If you’d give me a chance?”
I finish rinsing and spitting.
He clears his throat and says, “‘You are too generous to trifle with me.’”
“Do not quote Austen at me!”
“Sorry.”
I get busy stripping out of my clothes. Almost strangling myself with my tee due to anger management issues. “I want honesty and apologies. Nothing else.”
“Yes, Alice. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
Hot water is the best fix for my current situation. Hot water and lots of it. I step into the shower and get busy, using my favorite facewash and a soap that smells of rosehips, washing and conditioning my hair. The end result is that I’m still angry, but I smell much better. Towel wrapped around me, I stand back in front of the mirror and drag a brush through my nest of hair.
“Please, stop. You’re tearing it out,” says Beck, taking over the job. Being tired and cranky, I let him. He’s much gentler with my locks, carefully working out the knots with a look of concentration on his face. “Just between you and me, I was kind of terrified you’d leave and I’d never see you again. That’s why I was camped outside your door. I figured at the very least, you’d trip over me in the dark and I’d slow you down. Imagine my surprise when you didn’t even attempt to make a run for it.”
“I don’t forgive you yet. But like I said, I’m still here.”
Gaze on his task, he nods. The man works diligently until the brush pulls easily through my long hair. If he decides being a billionaire isn’t working out, he might just have a future as a lady’s maid. We don’t talk for a while. It’s enough to be near each other. And despite all of the shit he’s put me through, I still want to be near him. Love sucks. He hands me back the brush with a small sad smile. “There you go.”