I can't fucking see straight. I'm wound so tight after spending the last fifteen minutes telling Delaney what I want to do to her. I hope she's as wrapped around the axle as I am. There's something about her that makes me crazy.
We're still a block away from the hotel when I realize Delaney is limping. "What's wrong?"
She kicks up one of her feet and sighs. "The perils of wearing heels in Japan," she says. "I don't know how the girls here do it, walking everywhere in stilettos. They must be masochists."
"Fuck walking," I say, and I pick her up before she can protest, but she does anyway.
"What are you doing?" she squeals.
"How far away from the hotel are we?" I ask.
"I don't know, a block, I think," she says. "Put me down before someone sees."
"Afraid not." I keep carrying her, ignoring the looks I get from strangers on the sidewalk. A couple of expats laugh as we pass them, and I explain, "She's totally drunk."
Delaney hits me on the shoulder. "I am not! Don't say that."
"You could be," I say. "If anyone sees us, that's the excuse I'm going with."
"Do not," she orders.
"I don't see where you're really in a position to argue about anything with me here," I point out. "Anyway, I've never carried a girl through the streets of Tokyo before, so you should stop your griping and enjoy the ride." I pause for a beat. "The same rule applies to the sex later on tonight."
"Very funny," she says, and she slaps me again when we walk through the lobby of the hotel. "Put me down."
"I don't think so," I say. When we pass the concierge, I explain, "She hurt her foot."
Delaney huffs, but she doesn't fling herself out of my arms, either. When we're in the elevator and alone, she turns her head and kisses me. We're still kissing when the door opens and I back out into the hallway with her in my arms, spinning her around.
And then I see her.
Chelsea stares at me, her eyes wide. And then a look – the smuggest, most self-satisfied goddamn look in the world – crosses her face. She says something to Akira Ito, who reddens deeply.
Delaney follows my gaze behind her, and her face turns ashen. She slides down quickly, standing and smoothing her dress. "Chelsea. Akira-san," she says.
"I'm incredibly sorry to disturb your evening, Delaney." Chelsea's voice drips with sarcasm.
"Gaige was just helping me. My feet were –" She speaks in Japanese to Akira, something I don't understand, then bows deeply. Akira gives her a barely perceptible nod of his head, and walks past us into the elevator.
When the elevator doors close, the three of us stand there, paused like we're frozen. Then Delaney finally speaks. "How could you?"
Chelsea raises her eyebrows. "How could I?" she asks. "You're screwing your own brother and you want to know how could I? I was just scouting a new job; I had no idea the two of you would set things up so nicely for me. Perfect timing, I have to say. Your father will be pleased."
My blood is fucking boiling, but Delaney is the one who looks like she's going to explode. She walks up to Chelsea and slaps her so hard across the face that the sound echoes in the hallway. Chelsea puts her hand to her cheek. "You stupid, spoiled bitch. You're going to fucking regret that," she says. Then she directs her attention to me. "And you – you white trash, entitled, lazy shit. I knew there was something wrong with you when you turned me down in Vegas. It turns out you're only into girls who are related to you."
"Fuck you, Chelsea," I say. I don't hit women, but if there were ever a time I'd consider it, it would be now. I reach for Delaney's arm, but she shakes me off.
Chelsea storms past us, around the corner, and I can hear her hotel door slam.
"Delaney, I –" I start, but she won't look at me. I can see tears on the side of her cheek, and I swear to God my heart is going to fucking rip in two at the sight of her crying.
"I told you not to carry me up here," she says, her voice angry. "Everything is ruined."
"Your father is not going to listen to that stupid bitch," I say. "I'll talk to him too."
She shakes her head, walking to her room, and I follow her. "Don't you get it?" she asks.
"Get what?" I ask. "That Chelsea is a power-hungry whore who's trying to get back at you because you're smarter than her and better at this than she is? That she's pissed because I wouldn't screw her, and that she just fucked up your father's deal? I get that, Delaney. Now let me inside so we can talk about this."
"You don't understand what just happened," Delaney says, shaking her head. "Chelsea told Akira we couldn't make dinner. She gave him some bullshit excuse to get us out of the way so she could sweet-talk him into hiring her or something, and then he sees us like that? It's horrific."
"It's not ideal," I agree. But horrific?
"Not ideal?" she says. "It's the worst possible thing. We embarrassed Akira-san. We humiliated him. He can't possibly do this deal now. It's completely ruined. The company is not going to sponsor you. We killed everything."
"We can explain," I say. "Let me come inside your room. Let's talk about it rationally."
"There's no explaining," she says. "There's no apologizing our way out of it. He can't accept our apology. It won't allow him to save face – it's too embarrassing. It's over."
"Your father will understand," I say. "You're his daughter."
Delaney laughs, the sound bitter. "And you're going to talk to my father?" she asks. "What are you going to say exactly? Hey, Beau, I know she's my sister and all, and your daughter, but I've been lusting after her since you and mom got married. And oh, by the way, I've been fucking her brains out. Let me know how that goes."
Fear clenches at my heart. "We should talk about it." I don't know what else to say.
"There's nothing to talk about, Gaige," she says. "Goodnight."
Anger and adrenaline are coursing through my veins, and it takes everything I have not to push the fucking door open and storm into her room and force her to listen to me. Goddamn it, she has to see reason.
But instead I let her close the door, and I walk away. The door shuts with such a fucking sense of finality that I'm rendered almost speechless, and I stand there in the hallway, my blood pumping as I think about how the world just fucking shifted on its axis in a matter of seconds.
Delaney doesn't answer when I knock on her door in the morning, and I return to my room with a sense of unease I can't shake. Delaney looked just so…crushed last night.
Her last words to me echo in my head, rattling around in my brain on a loop, repeated over and over.
Goodnight, Gaige.
It sounded a hell of a lot more like goodbye.