Chapter 38

As promised, Arran had pre-ordered the room service, and they sent it up to her twenty minutes after her arrival. Although it was not a meal she would have chosen, she ate it anyway, appreciating the gesture. She’d been jonesing for a cheeseburger and wished she could have just called room service herself. She even thought about returning the Beef Bourguignon Arran had selected but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

But now it was after nine, and Arran had still not arrived. Emma paced restlessly around the room, trying not to be cross. She didn’t want to be charged up and irritated when he walked through the door, but it was getting more difficult to ignore her annoyance with every passing minute.

Exhausted, she sat on the bed and yawned, mindful not to wrinkle her dress. Running around all week had finally caught up with her, and she considered taking a quick nap. She was about to surrender to her fatigue when she heard a commotion in the hallway. The lock on the door chirped and Arran walked in, towing the porter behind him. The young man was carrying Arran’s overnight bag and nothing more. She stood up, her irritation quickly replaced with relief, pleased she was no longer alone.

But Arran didn’t acknowledge her. He was on the phone, talking some sort of strategy with someone who seemed to be annoying him. He gestured to the porter to set his bag down, fished a bill out of his pocket, placed it in the lad’s hand, then waved him out. All in one fluid, dismissive motion. The porter nodded at Emma pleasantly and she smiled back, appreciating the inclusion. With the phone to his ear, Arran shooed him out again, ushering him to the door, then closed it firmly behind him.

Emma could overhear Arran’s discussion and didn’t get the sense it was winding down soon. She tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look her way, too absorbed in his conversation. She sat down in one of the wingback chairs, crossing her legs in front of her. She’d saved the room service wine, wanting to wait for him, but her patience was thinning. She poured herself a glass, leaving his empty, and raised it to her mouth. He looked her way and held up a finger, either gesturing her to stop or signaling he would only be a minute longer. She hoped it was the latter, she wasn’t in the mood to take orders. She willfully took a sip, displaying her displeasure. He frowned, quickly shifting his gaze away.

“It doesn’t matter,” he growled into the phone, “set the meeting for Saturday. They should be making concessions for me. No, just do it...and make sure you send the contract as soon as they forward it. I’ll read it while I’m on route. I want to make sure it’s exactly as we agreed. I don’t want to be blindsided at the meeting. I’ll touch base as soon as I arrive.”

Arran hung up without offering a goodbye and walked toward Emma, tossing the phone on the bed as he passed. He smiled at her grimly, then picked up the wine bottle and squinted at the label, as though assessing the quality.

“I wanted to make a toast,” he scolded, filling his glass. She shrugged indifferently.

“Sorry,” she said impassively, not really meaning it. He regarded her curiously, taking a deep swallow.

“Are you okay?” he grinned, softening his tone. She sighed heavily, hinting at a smile. “Don’t be cross, Emma. I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day. I would’ve been here sooner if I had any choice.”

He bent down and kissed her softly on the mouth, warming her instantly. She swallowed her anger, refusing to put further stress on the evening.

“That’s better,” he approved, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” Emma nodded, watching him take the chair beside her.

“Good, good,” he offered indifferently, “you look lovely, by the way.”

Her expression softened, the compliment melting her. She held her hand out to him across the little round table, gesturing her forgiveness. He accepted her offering and raised her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingertips romantically. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, allowing themselves to unwind and get reacquainted.

“Where’s your luggage?” she finally asked, remembering that he only had one bag brought up.

“My assistant is taking care of it. I’m sure it will be in the car tomorrow when my driver picks us up. Do you mind if I take a shower?” he asked, polishing off the last of his wine.

Emma shook her head, wondering if she should offer to wash his back. She was just about to suggest it when he stood up and turned away, seemingly distracted by his thoughts. He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the bed before heading into the bathroom. She let him go without a word, hoping a hot shower would erase the stress from his day, so they could start over with a clean slate.

While he was gone, she undressed completely and slipped on his shirt, enjoying the silk against her flesh, still warm from his body heat. She fastened the bottom four buttons, just high enough to reveal a provocative amount of skin. She hoped her hard nipples, pressing deliciously against the fabric, would seduce a strong reaction from him.

As soon as she heard the shower shut off, she sat on the end of the bed and waited for him. He walked out of the bathroom dressed only in his boxers, pulling a towel through his wet hair, chuckling as soon as he noticed her. She immediately stood up to greet him, flashing him a delicious amount of cleavage.

“Hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d get ready for bed while I was waiting for you. Found this old shirt lying around. It’s a little snug,” she purred, sauntering over to him.

“Pleasantly so,” he agreed, holding his arms open for her. She slipped into them, raising her mouth to him, her hands gingerly sliding down his backside to caress his ass. He moaned his approval and pulled her closer, teasing her with his growing erection. She slid her mouth off his, leaving a trail of moist kisses down his neck, then gently nibbled his earlobe. Her arousal blossomed quickly, instantly dampening the swollen fold between her legs. She had been yearning for him all night and couldn’t wait for him to take her.

She kissed him again, pulling him tighter against her trembling body. He eased his head back, tucking his fingers under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. He was grinning at her sheepishly, as though he had something else on his mind.

“Emma, I appreciate the seduction, I really do, but I’m exhausted. It’s been such a long day, and we have an early morning,” he objected, his pleasant little kisses posing as commas between his words.

“Yeah,” she smirked, leaning in for a deeper kiss, refusing to be curbed again, “so what?”

He squeezed her chin gently and chuckled, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “I might not have the energy, darling, but do you know what would make me very happy?”

“What?” she whispered playfully, certain he would find the motivation to fuck her once she worked him up.

“I’d really like a bob...” he suggested seductively, stroking the top of her head.

“What’s that?” she purred, unfamiliar with the term. She hoped it was a British euphemism for a good fucking.

“I believe you yanks call it a blow-job,” he clucked, offering her another quick kiss.

Vexed, Emma pulled her head back and glared at him, heat rising to her cheeks. Was he serious?

“Just a quick one, then we can get some sleep. We’ll have the whole trip for long, drawn-out love-making, won’t we. We can even fuck on the plane, if you like.”

Emma dropped her arms and stepped back, hurt and confused. The night was not unfolding the way she’d hoped, not even close. She had imagined Arran bursting into the room and sweeping her off her feet, carrying her to the bed, consumed with lust for her, then fucking her with a passion equal to the night of the party. Nowhere in her imagination did he make her feel cheap. She was speechless, until he opened his mouth again.

“It’s not too much to ask is it, considering?” he insisted thoughtlessly, alluding that she might owe him something. Emma pulled his shirt tighter around herself, holding the expensive material tightly in her fists, baffled by the suggestion.

“Arran, I’m confused,” she stammered. “What happened to my passionate lover from the party? You made me feel so desirable that night. You took my breath away! Now...you seem so indifferent. Don’t you want me?”

He looked at the floor, modestly wrapping his towel around his waist, considering her words. When he finally met her eyes they were cold, challenging.

“Well now, I thought it was a secret who our lovers were,” he sneered, “what made you think it was me?”

She felt her breath catch in her throat, suddenly not sure about anything. She hesitated, her mouth agape, playing the night back in her mind. His wry laughter chilled her to the bone, as though he knew something she didn’t.

“The hickey,” she confessed, wishing she wasn’t half naked. Never in her life had she felt more vulnerable, not even with Andrew. She looked at the dress she’d thrown haphazardly over the chair when she hadn’t a care in the world. It seemed to be mocking her.

“Hickey,” he mused, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes, in the heat of...when we were...I know gave you a hickey. Then, when we reunited later, I saw the mark on your neck,” she explained, feeling less and less confident.

“And you assumed it was me,” he ridiculed, raising a brow derisively, an amused expression on his face. She nodded but said nothing.

“Oh Emma,” he mocked, “I guess we were both wrong.”

She stared at him flatly, shrinking from his contempt.

“I always thought you and Luke were lovers but you’ve obviously never shagged him, otherwise you would’ve known it was him.”

Emma stared at him in disbelief, dumbfounded, her head spinning with doubt. How could that be? Luke would never...

Arran shook his head and laughed like it was the most amusing thing in the world. She felt nauseous, as though she’d just swallowed a potent cocktail of confusion, anger, and shame, the joke on her. She didn’t find it the least bit amusing and resented his reaction.

“Not to worry, sweet girl, it’s water under the bridge. It didn’t bother me a bit,” he snickered, trying to pacify her, but failing miserably.

“Well, maybe a little bit,” he gestured, bringing his hands close together to show her how much. “I went to the party that night for you. I even tried to bribe the hostess to slip you my name, but apparently Luke was one step ahead of me. Anyway, I just assumed that after he abandoned you that things didn’t go well. I assumed you were ready for a real man.”

Emma shook her head, eyes to the floor, desperately trying to make sense of it all. How could Luke have done that to her? She trusted him, and he abandoned her...after fucking her! He just left her? Then lied about it? Their passion had seemed so real, the sex so wonderful! Did he hate it? Was he disgusted by her? And then he avoided her the whole week after. Jesus, was that what spurned their fight? Was he trying to end their friendship?

She slowly raised her eyes to Arran, hoping for compassion, but was met with mild amusement instead. She felt the walls closing in on her, the air thinning.

“I have to go,” she whispered, gathering her clothes. She ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind her, just before spilling her tears. She felt like a fool, and worse, she had completely misjudged Arran.

No, not misjudged. She’d offered him the benefit of the doubt because she was attracted to him, ignoring her own instincts. He’d been showing her who he was all along, revealing his true colors, offering her little clues and warning signs but she pretended they weren’t there, like a fool. Had she learned nothing from her past?

And Luke...he saw it. He tried to make her see it too. But he also betrayed her.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then splashed cold water on her face, refusing to meet her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t look at herself, she was too ashamed. She slipped on her undergarments, trying to formulate an escape plan.

“Emma, don’t be this way. Come out here,” Arran insisted, knocking on the door. She ignored him, wrapping her dress around her and tying the sash.

“You’re overreacting. Let’s just go to bed. We can talk about it in the morning when you’re less emotional.”

His pretentious words crawled up her spine, triggering her disgust. They seemed all too familiar. Same tone, different man. Briskly, she opened the door, almost knocking him off balance.

“I’m going home, Arran,” she said, stepping around him. Exasperated, he reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

“Don’t be silly. Stay. We’ll put this behind us and go on our trip. In a few days, it will all be forgotten.”

“No, I can’t be with you,” she admitted tersely, easing her arm out of his grip. “I tried. I ignored my instincts because I thought there might be potential, that we had something special...”

“What, when you thought it was me at the party? Jesus, Emma, I can fuck you like that if that’s what you want. I was just kidding about the blow-job...”

She shook her head and walked back into the bedroom, collecting her things along the way. She threw everything into her open suitcase and locked it up tight, stepped into her shoes and slipped her purse over her shoulder.

“Emma,” he whined, trying to block her path. He grabbed her shoulders and tried to kiss her, forcing his mouth against hers, hastily knocking their teeth in the process. She yanked her head back and pushed him away as kindly as she could.

“I’ll send the porter up for my things while I wait for a taxi. I’m sorry Arran,” she offered sincerely. She took off the earrings he gifted her and placed them in his hand, helping him to close his palm around them. She held his hand for a moment, hoping to convey her regret. She didn’t want to leave on bad terms, she just wanted to leave.

“You’re really an ungrateful bitch, aren’t you?” he spat, yanking his hand away. “So what now? Are you going to run to Luke?”

She turned away, swallowing back her emotions. He was trying to get a rise out of her, manipulate her with cruelty to cover up his own insecurity. She knew the dance well.

Men like him drank tears for breakfast.

Unwilling to give him the satisfaction or engage in confrontation, she offered a hasty goodbye. She stepped around him and opened the door, ignoring the biting remarks hurled after her.