I wipe my sweaty hands on my dress and rise. I turn and round the couch to slip on my heels and grab my purse. When I reach the door, I glance over my shoulder, and his back is to me once again.
“Good luck with your complicated life.”
I twist the handle and pull it open two inches before it slams shut and his arms bracket my body, trapping me against the door.
“You really think you’re going to forget this? Me? How it feels to come so hard, you can’t remember your own name?”
I force indifference into my voice. “I’ll live without it.”
“Maybe. But you’ll still crave it. I give you a week before you’re back here, looking for me again like you were tonight.”
My anger flares and I turn in his arms, meeting his intense stare. “You know what I’m really good at? Proving people wrong.”
Chapter 22
Temperance
Ihate myself for walking away.
He’s right. I can’t stop thinking about him. He haunts my dreams for the rest of the weekend, no matter how many Chris Hemsworth movies I watch. When I get to the distillery on Monday, I’m determined to throw myself into work and forget all of it.
By Thursday, I’m finally able to go thirty minutes without thinking about him or the club. I wave off Keira as she climbs into the back of a chauffeur-driven car, heading off on vacation, with her orders to call me if I need anything, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I can do this. I’m a capable COO. Life is great.
Then a messenger arrives an hour later, and my determination implodes.
The handwriting on the outside of the envelope is familiar, and I tell myself to throw it in the trash without opening it. But I’m weak and completely unsupervised. I use my letter opener to slice the top and dump out the contents.
A single card, just like the one he gave me the night of the fundraiser. A date and time are written on it.
Tomorrow.
Just the thought of it heats my blood, and my thighs clench together.
No. I’m not going.As a matter of fact, I’m going to make other plans so I’m not remotely tempted.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. The list is remarkably short. That’s what happens when you walk away from your old life and cut off communication with pretty much everyone from your past, and you’re not that great at making friends to begin with.
My brother.
My boss.
My landlady.
A few distillery employees.
A notorious madam.
Valentina Hendrix.
The gallery owner’s contact information taunts me, but for a completely different reason. I’ve been driving around with the phoenix in the back of my Bronco since Elijah helped me load it up, and I told myself it’s because I can’t unload it myself. That’s only partially the truth.
The rest of the story is that I’m still working up the courage to take it to Noble Art and show it to Valentina on behalf ofmyfriend, the artist.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I tapCall. She answers on the third ring, right before I lose my nerve and hang up.
“Hello?”