Just left her suite after ordering her some room service. Your key is sitting on your guitar case.

P.S. I had no idea it was going to be her. I almost lost my shit, bro. Lucky bastard. She’s fucking awesome. I wanna marry her tomorrow.

My mouth lifted in a smirk after reading Arush’s text, confirming Cara’s arrival, check in, and safe deposit in the hotel we were staying at. Last week during meet and greet, this lanky, polished, tall Indian guy handed me a poster to sign and a resume attached with a bright neon sticky note listing the reasons I should hire him on the spot.

The guy was darn bold in every sense of the word. Not only that, but I had to give some credit for originality. I’d never imagined someone paying thousands of dollars to meet me backstage and having the guts to apply for a job all in one go.

I already had Willa to cover my schedule and social calendar when it came to events, paid appearances, and the like. She took care of the public side of my life, yet I had no one to deal with my private affairs. With the increasing demands of my job, having someone to take care of things like ensuring Cara’s arrival and room bookings and whatever else I needed done would be awesome, to say the least.

In less than ten minutes, Arush was hired … Well, he officially was on board the moment he finished signing a confidentiality agreement.

So here we were … fifteen days later.

As expected, Cara didn’t call or text while away. I’d been tempted to contact her, but thank fuck I hadn’t followed through on my drunken thoughts, because half an hour later, I ‘accidentally’ came across her pictures on the gram. Let’s just say I spent the whole night angry, wondering what this dude had that I couldn’t give her. The last thing I needed to top off the godawful night would be to hear the fucker on the other end fucking around with Cara.

I honestly didn’t know what happened, but somehow, I figured I could take her for a nice trip and maybe show her I wasn’t all that bad. She probably saw me as a monster, or else how could I rationalize Cara spending her free time with another man instead of being with me?

I knew she had just arrived from a week vacation, but I felt this mad need to show her I could be spontaneous, too. As a result, I had Arush find the perfect spot to revitalize and revive our spirits and maybe, just maybe, her faith in me, too. We were leaving tomorrow for a private island in Turks & Caicos. Tonight’s agenda was to take her to this restaurant I had hired to close down for the night so we could enjoy a quiet time together. Afterward, if she wasn’t too tired, she could accompany me to this nightclub appearance booked tonight. I was only obligated to stay for an hour, so it shouldn’t be too much of a crazy scene. I intended to hold off on sex until she approached me. Hopefully, I could make good on that idea. It was a tough call to make where Cara was concerned, but I intended this night to be different. A good change and I believed I could make that happen.

After arriving back at the hotel after tonight’s gig, I quickly dashed in the shower and got ready in less than twenty minutes. Grabbing the keycard from the top of the guitar case, I almost ran out of the suite before I deliberately took a pause, blew out some air, and told myself to calm the fuck down.

I’d been waiting for this night every day since she had left. Yes, goddamn it! I was fucking thrilled to even have her in the same country as I was, and I wasn’t even ashamed to admit it.

My chest thudded heavily as I left my room and almost sprinted toward the elevator. She was two floors down, so it took hardly any time at all before I found myself standing right outside her door.

Slipping the keycard into its designated slot, I quietly let myself in. Compared to last time, the room wasn’t silent. There was music playing in the background.

By the time I reached the living room, my breathing had all but left me when my eyes found her wearing a silk robe with baby blue flowers on it. It was untied, hanging loosely around her frame while only wearing a matching red lace lingerie.

She was golden. It merely enhanced her already knockout features. She was absorbed in her phone, reading something without noticing she wasn’t alone in the room any longer. I took her in like a man stranded in a desert after finding an oasis to quench his thirst, drowning and consuming at the same time. After over two weeks of celibacy, I felt as though my entire existence had been zapped back to life.

I wasn’t sure what had made me do it. There was Petra and an endless supply of willing bodies to cater to my needs. I could’ve easily done it, but it hadn’t felt right. None of them aroused me like Cara could achieve with just a glance in my direction. She stimulated me in ways no woman ever could.

“Cara,” I rasped out. Her name felt like honey on my tongue.

The golden goddess hesitantly looked up from her device, there was a pause, and then she broke out into a smile. Hastily dropping her phone on the table, she crossed the living room to welcome me.

“Hi,” she greeted before tiptoeing to kiss my cheek. Her eyes twinkled as she keenly gazed upon me. However, there were other things twinkling that caught my eyes.

It was the huge diamond earrings she was wearing. “Something new?” I skeptically asked while feeling as though my anxiety meter had just shot up tenfold.

“Oh, these?” she angled her face from side to side, proudly showing off her new gems. “Everett won crazy in blackjack. This was how he thanked me for being his lucky charm.”

Everett. Goddamn it. The guy was probably crazy about her. He had to be. Most men were enslaved to her. She knew it, too … unfortunately.

“Looks great on you,” I said tritely. The words sounded even hollow to my ears.

“Thank you.” Her smile widened some more. “I met Arush … You finally let go of her, thank God. About time you did.” She stated with such relief I almost felt bad squashing that belief.

“Willa’s still on board. Arush is my second assistant.”

Her face fell, grimacing as if she tasted something foul. “That’s too bad,” she mumbled as she drastically brushed the strand of hair that had fallen from her bun.

What caught my attention drained all the blood from my face. “Is that a fucking engagement ring!” I yanked her hand so hard she yelped in pain.

It was a ring. A diamond fucking ring. As big as the rocks on her ears…maybe even bigger. “What … what …” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I was so lost for words my brain couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. What the fuck was going on?

Guilt was written all over her face. Grimacing, she tried to pull her hand free from my hold. I released her without a struggle. I couldn’t fathom touching her, not when she just flipped my world upside down once more. When would I ever learn?

“It’s not what you think,” she nervously whispered.

I continued frowning, endlessly scowling down at her. Still, I was rendered speechless.

“On our last night, we went for a walk … Everett and me, I mean…” She paused, looking guilty as ever. “He somehow found this on the beach, and well, I don’t know … It was all a joke, I swear … until somehow we joked around that if we were both single by the age of thirty, we’d somehow marry each other so we didn’t have to die lonely.”

Right. What a slick fucker. Was that how a man proposed to a woman? And why the fuck would he? He barely knew her!

“And you just happened to stupidly agree to this dumb joke, right?” I sniped at her, yelling with barely contained anger. I’d never been this furious. Never had I felt as though I wanted to fucking strangle and fuck the brains out of someone to snap them out of stupidity.

She was engaged. Conditionally.

UN. FUCKING. BELIEVABLE.

What a load of garbage. The joke had always been on me. Wow. What total hogwash.

I’m out. I’m fucking out!

Carelessly shrugging, I knew I had to bolt out of here before things got out of hand. I couldn’t stand to be around her. Hearing her voice, her stupid pleas, just being in the same room—I wanted to commit cold murder. Hit something. Break something. I craved to bleed, to draw blood, to feel something other than this wretched feeling that was eating me whole. The urge to run—to go and fucking hide somewhere—was so intense it was perplexing.

Hounded by so many despicable things, I spun on my heels, ready to bolt out the door without bothering to say goodbye, but the wicked witch just wouldn’t let me go.

“River! Stop! Where are you going?” she shrieked, catching up to me. “Aren’t you staying? Arush said you’re taking me somewhere low key and fancy. I can be ready in five minutes.” She tried to yank my arm, but her pleas got her nowhere.

Her eyes were forlorn as she sought to enlighten me. There was nothing between us. Nothing to anchor this but the past. And to be damn fucking straight with myself, I was so over this. I wanted an honest woman, someone I could rely on. Someone to trust. Petra would never do this to me. She was gentle, a truly loving woman unlike Cara, who had been damaged from the start. Just like I was. But hers ran deeper. Her scars were burrowed in places no one could ever reach.

I’d been her protector since we had been kids, but this time, I knew, without a speck of doubt, I wanted to be free from the restraints she had on me. Her manacles had held me in a chokehold, holding me in check, which had made moving on completely impossible. But this time, we’d reach the point of no return. If I’d thought things couldn’t get worse than they already had, she had proved me wrong. The inevitable had happened.

“We’re not going anywhere, Cara.” I felt … nothing. How could someone kill someone when he was already dead inside? All thanks to this woman. “I have somewhere to be. Go back to la, Cara. I’ll arrange for you to fly out first thing tomorrow. I’ll catch up with you in Coachella.” By then, I’d have everything ready. I was setting her free. She could do what she liked. As for me, I was done, just fucking done.

“What?” she gasped, shocked beyond comprehension. “What do you mean? No, just no. You can’t just fucking get rid of me when we agreed I’d be staying with you until I leave for Toronto.”

“Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” Those were the last words I shot at her before slamming the door in her face.

The bitch was engaged.

She had played me like a damn fool. She always had. Well, it hadn’t taken her long to find a replacement for Juan. She what now … loved two men while another man owned her body?

This was all fucking twisted. Too fucked-up even for me.

She’d had sex with him. She had to have. I mean, how could she not? They were on vacation, probably sharing the same room, sleeping on the same bed, and he closed the deal by trapping her in the dumbest proposal I’d ever heard.

Cara had done more than enjoy Everett.

Well, she could have him. I was sure she was relieved to find out I was done with her. She was probably dancing with joy in her room, possibly calling the fucker so she could fly out to see him.

I didn’t care what she did. She could marry him tomorrow, and it wouldn’t matter. Not to me. Not anymore.

Fuck her.

I was going to fucking have fun tonight and forget this had ever happened. I would find a beautiful woman to get lost in. And by the time I woke up tomorrow, my headspace would be in a much better state.

Engaged.

BULL.

FUCKING.

SHIT.

Another man’s ring. Everett’s ring…

The bitch had some big cajones showing up here, wearing that stupid ring. My mind couldn’t wrap around the way she processed things. I mean, what the fuck was she thinking? How could she!

This was Hell on earth.

How many times did I have to go through the wringer before I got some happiness back into my life?

Jesus Christ. Did I really deserve this? Did I?

I had let her go off for two weeks and come back with this crock of shit? Cara didn’t care if she stomped on me, made me look stupid, or how she always got away with things she shouldn’t have in the first place. In retrospect, this was my fault. I had let this happen. I had asked for this by inviting her back into my life, knowing what she was capable of. I didn’t pay heed and followed my dick’s unreliable brainless radar.

Fuck. Me. This shit hurt like a motherfucker.

I was paying the price for the ultimate moronic move.