* * *
Alex slammed the door behind him. The sound echoed down the hallway, prompting an unexpected response. "Alex, is that you?"
He trudged down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the Blue Parlor. Alana had arrayed herself on the chaise and was paging through Us Weekly. A few days ago he'd texted her, desperate for company. Now she was the last person he wanted to see.
Alex entered the room and made for the bar. He poured himself a glass of single-batch, barrel-aged Kentucky bourbon and quickly drained it. He poured another, then settled into an arm chair to nurse it.
After a few moments of silence, Alana spoke. "Where were you tonight?"
"Networking event."
She said nothing, turned the page of her magazine. "You sure?" she said after another minute of silence. "You weren't in a boxing ring?"
"What are you talking about?"
Alana pulled out her phone, scrolling through a feed. "'Irate millionaire punches out the competition.' 'Drake uses his muscles to the close the deal.' Oh, and this one I rather like. 'Drunken Drake trades fists with CPA over barfly.'"
Alex groaned, setting down his drink to walk to the chaise and grab her phone. He found a photograph of Lila pulling him away from the prone blond man, an angry grimace on his own face. He cursed and threw the phone back at Alana.
He'd just spent hours "convincing" Damien George to keep his mouth shut. And George had just "convinced" him to hire his firm for "all your accounting needs."
He'd also warned the asshole to stay away from Lila. In fact, the actual words he said could have gotten him sued. But the threats hadn't felt like enough. Watching the man shove tissue after tissue up his nose to staunch the bleeding hadn't filled him with the satisfaction he'd expected. Instead he'd just wanted to hit him again.
And in spite of all that hard work, the media had still gotten a hold of the story. Already.
"She just couldn't leave you alone, could she?" The venom in her voice made him turn back to face her. "I warned her to stay away."
This was a surprising development. His eyes narrowed. "You talked to Lila."
"I did. And she apparently didn't get the picture. I can't believe you were screwing around with the caterer. That's so low brow."
"Get out." He turned his back on her, picked up his drink and tossed the rest of it back.
"Alex, no need to overreact. If you're going to have an affair, at least pick someone remotely close to your level."
"I said get out! I never want to see you again."
He didn't. He couldn't marry this woman, this cold, selfish doll who took everything he gave her and gave back too little of herself. How could he spend the rest of his life without love? Without someone who at least cared about him?
Alana stood, her gaze icy. "She told you about the video, didn't she?"
What fucking video?
He remained silent, waiting for her to dig her own grave.
"She did, that fucking cunt."
"Don't talk about her like that!" His voice was so loud, the chandelier overhead began to tremble.
"Well you were fucking her like a prostitute on her own kitchen table!" Alana whipped out her phone, swiped across it, and then held the screen up to him.
The video was low-quality but the action was not. He was plunging into Lila, having the most exquisite sexual encounter of his life.
And this bitch had been filming it.
He snatched the phone from her and threw it to the ground, stomping it to bits underneath his foot.
"You bastard! You're paying for a new phone!"
"You'll be lucky if I don't prosecute you for this. Get the fuck out, Alana. It's over."
"Look, Alex," she said, her expression softening. "I don't care if you fuck other women. We can reach an arrangement. As long as you don't go getting into scenes like tonight--"
"Forget it."
Her face contorted in rage. "Fuck you, Alex Drake, you ignorant piece of trash. I'm going to spread that video all over the media."
"The hell you will! My lawyers will have a field day crucifying you if you even try it. Now get out!"
Alana smiled menacingly. "We'll see." Then she flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder, turned on her Jimmy Choo stilettos and marched out of the room.
Alex collapsed into the arm chair, wondering when his life had turned to shit.