Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.
Every wall I’ve built over the last few years is nothing but rubble now, and I’m left standing, wondering how I’m supposed to pick up the pieces.
Disgust crawls over me like thousands of little bugs, and I scratch desperately at my skin, trying to eliminate the itch. The longer I sit, the worse it gets, until it feels like I’ve been buried alive and left as worm food.
I can feel layers of my flesh breaking away as my scratching becomes ferocious, and I’m sure the driver thinks I’m tweaking right now. He curses under his breath, something about junkies in the city, but I don’t really hear it when my mother’s voice echoes in the recesses of my mind.
Easy. Slut. Whore.
Insults she used to hurl at me, even though there was no merit behind them.
I’ve never even been on a date, much less let anyone have their way with me.
Until now, that is.
Now I’ve gone and proved her right. Eviscerated every principle, every amount of work I’ve done over the last few years. I can feel my progress unraveling, disintegrating as her accusations become my reality.
All because a gray-eyed man made me feel special.
Bursting from the cab as soon as we’re within a hundred feet of the hotel, I toss a wad of cash up front and bolt to the front doors. My chest is tight, and my throat feels like it might be on the verge of closing permanently, but I jog past the concierge and into the elevator anyway.
Once the metal doors slide shut, I collapse against the wall, forcing a strangled gasp from my lungs. It tears up my esophagus, wheezing as it squeaks out, but at least I’m breathing.
That’s what I try to focus on as the elevator comes to a stop, and I make my way across the hall to our hotel suite. I’m already looking forward to wrapping myself in the plush white bedding in my room, hiding out until we leave for the airport in the morning.
I stop dead in my tracks when I swipe my key card, push open the door, and find Mellie and Aurora lounging on the couch, watching a scary movie. They’re wearing matching white silk robes, and an open bottle of red wine resting on the sofa between them.
It looks as if they’ve been here for a while.
Swallowing, I let the door swing shut behind me, blinking rapidly as though that might change the scene before me.
Mellie glances up first, and she grins, giving a little wave. Her platinum hair is pushed back by a rainbow headband, her almond-shaped eyes wide as they take me in.
“Well, that’s definitely not what we sent you out in,” she says, wiggling her dark brows. “Someone had a good night.”
Aurora turns her head, tapping the mouth of the wine bottle. “Jeez, Riley. And here we were thinking you wouldn’t be into the whole live auction scene.”
She pauses, and a practiced cruelty tugs at her sharp features. “Given your familial history, though, I guess it wasn’t so foreign to you, huh?”
My lips part, a retort materializing on the back of my tongue. There’s no telling which part of my history, exactly, she’s talking about—my mother’s aptitude for whoring herself, or my brother’s affiliation with the Mafia and their connections to the slave trade.
Though, I suppose the specifics don’t really matter. They don’t change the fact that she clearly equates my worth as a person with my unfortunate heritage, and I doubt there’s any way I could convince her otherwise.
Once you accept something as garbage, it’s very difficult to polish it afterward.
So, instead, I bite the inside of my cheek and swallow the reply. Walking over to the sink, I wash my hands, trying to scrub the feel of Aiden James out from under my fingertips.
I dry them quickly, then grab a hotel-branded water bottle from the fridge and walk over to where they sit, contemplating if I want to join them or not. Perching on the arm of the sofa, I wait for an invitation. Something to prove they don’t hate me, despite everything.
Because I’m an idiot who seems to accept the scraps tossed her way.
Better than going hungry, I suppose.
“Where did you guys go tonight?” I ask, avoiding the gore on the television.
“Oh, you know. We walked around the event area. Tested out a few of the physical products they had up to bid on, mingled with a lot of B-listers. Boring stuff, really.”
I watch Mellie’s lips move as she speaks, but for some reason, I don’t buy a word of it. “I looked but couldn’t find you.”
“We were around,” Aurora says, shrugging. “Must not have looked hard enough.”
“That silver fox at the bar probably stole her attention,” Mellie giggles. Her thumb prods at my knee, nudging as if we’re in on the same little joke.
“He looked very Wolf of Wall Street.” Aurora raises a brow. “Hope you made him wrap it.”
“Jesus, Ror.”
My face heats, the anxiety from before flushing my skin. As it trickles down my chest like an IV drip, I push to my feet, not wanting them to know there’s even a little truth to their words.
Sure, it wasn’t the “silver fox” I left with, but that doesn’t exactly make it better.
Excusing myself from the room, I lock myself in the bathroom and get ready for bed. Washing the day’s events from my body, I push them as far from the forefront of my mind as possible, ignoring the ache between my thighs.
I don’t want to think too hard about why I’m suddenly so sore there, so instead I sit with the detachable showerhead against my pussy for several minutes. I don’t come, don’t imagine Aiden’s talented fingers or mouth working me over. I just let the water soothe.
Fiona calls as I’m climbing beneath the goose down comforter, and I pick up as I flip off the bedside light.
“So?” she says, in lieu of hello. My brother’s girlfriend isn’t one for greetings or goodbyes. “Did you do it?”
I yawn. “Do what?”
“Get a tattoo! God, it’s been like an hour and a half since you texted me that picture. Is your memory that bad?”
Only when I want it to be. Clearing my throat, I stuff my hand beneath the comforter and run a finger over the fresh ink, wishing I’d thought to grab a tube of ointment before I made my escape earlier. I make a mental note to steal some from Boyd when I get home tomorrow.
“Yeah.”
I pause, chewing on my bottom lip as I consider telling her more. If there’s anyone I can trust to keep a secret, it’s Fiona Ivers—lord knows she kept my brother as one for months, back before they officially became a couple.
“That’s not… all I did tonight, though,” I say finally, and even just the hint of a confession makes my shoulders sag with relief. “I kind of went on a date with Aiden James.”
Silence fills the line, twisting my gut into impenetrable knots. I stare out the window at the dark sky, wondering how far out you have to go from the city before you can see the stars again.
Some shuffling comes through the phone, and then it sounds like a door closes, and she’s back. “Okay, sorry. Definitely not something I want your brother to hear. I’m in our closet now. What do you mean you went out with Aiden James? The musician? The Aiden James you’re totally in love with?”
I snort, slinking down farther beneath the covers. “I’m not in love with him, but yes. That Aiden James. He kind of bought my time at some weird charity gala we went to, and things kind of just spiraled from there.”