EC: Joel is on his way up.
Just as I read it, a knock sounds on the door. “Son of a bitch!” I roar, jumping out of my skin as Joel’s chuckle and amused voice drift in from the other side.
“Sorry, sweetheart, did I offend?”
“Tell him I already left!” I call out.
“Well, considering he heard you—along with half the hotel floor—he’s not going to believe me.”
Glaring, I roll my suitcase with me toward the door and open it. “I’m leaving,” I lie. “So, tell him I got his message loud and clear.”
Joel’s infuriating grin greets me as he lowers his eyes to the bag in my hand. “Yeah, she’s packed.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Apparently, he’s on Team Easton tonight.
“Will do,” Joel says.
“If he’s got anything to say to me, he can say it himself.”
A second later, Joel holds out the phone, and I barely manage to conceal my flinch.
Okay, that backfired.
Joel chuckles at my reaction as I take the phone and open my mouth to speak, but Easton beats me to the punch.
“Don’t make me come after you, Beauty. If I do, you won’t like it. Neither will your editor.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Turnabout is fair play.”
“That’s so—”
“Fucked up? I agree, but I’m taking a page from your handbook tonight, and right now, I swear to Christ, I’m just the motherfucker to make good on the threat. See you soon.”
My jaw drops as he hangs up, and I glare at Joel, who has the good sense to look remorseful as he palms the back of his neck. “Shit, he kind of makes it hard sometimes for people not to hate the messenger.”
“He’s an infuriating—” I tick off on my finger.
“Daily—” Joel counters.
“Entitled—” I go on.
“At times—” Joel agrees.
“Relentless—” I fume.
“Only when he really wants something—” he tosses in.
“Selfish prick!” I finish.
“Oof,” he winces, “I felt that. So, I guess, here’s your chance to tell him?”
When Joel’s phone rings in my hand, I go to answer it just as he snatches it out of my grasp. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.” He turns and strides toward the elevator as I glare at his retreating back the whole way, a ‘traitor’ on the tip of my tongue. But he’s not a traitor. He’s Easton’s people, not mine, no matter how much I want to claim him.
When the doors slide open, Joel turns to see me fuming in the hall and mouths a quick “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head emphatically, refusing to let him off the hook.
“Properly,” he mutters into the phone, “I would say somewhere along the lines of a bull in a china shop,” he reports of my temperament, scratching his temple in obvious discomfort just before the doors slide closed.
I slam my room door shut and fume while pulling my phone up to call and read Easton the riot act. Unable to compose a text to convey the thousand and one insults I want to hurl his way, I drop my phone and fist my hands.
“All right, you son of a bitch,” I snap, “you want a fight. You’ve got one coming.” Opening my suitcase, I pluck the navy dress bag I packed last minute and unzip it. Though already showered, I take my time getting ready, hoping to tick both Joel and Easton off by making them wait.
Furious, even though I’ve given myself ample time to cool off, I paint my lips a glossy nude and slide into a form-fitting, shimmering white V-neck dress. The cut bares inches of my midriff, connected only by tiny gold loops on each side. The deep cut also gives ample glimpses of side-boob while remaining classy in fit, hanging a few inches above mid-thigh. It’s my ‘dressed to kill’ dress, and right now, there’s a real possibility of that turn of phrase becoming a reality.
Satisfied with my makeup, I grab a thin gold chain from my jewelry bag as an afterthought. I decide it pairs perfectly with the dress after I clasp it around my waist, flicking the two small chains at the end that dangle over my exposed navel.
After taming my curls into larger ones with my iron, I slide on my blue suede Louboutin’s. Satisfied with the look I plan to neuter Easton Crowne in, I grab the small clutch which matches the red soles of my heels before tucking in my phone and travel wallet. After walking through a few shots of orchid perfume, I march out of my hotel room, mind set on making Easton pay.