“Nah. Same old. Rachel and Katie came down to party with us in Miami last weekend.”
“I guess I don’t need to ask how that went.” I’ve seen firsthand how those three party.
He grins. “They asked me to give you a big fat kiss from them.”
Mention of my cabinmates triggers other thoughts. “Have they gotten any calls from reporters?”
“If they have, they didn’t say anything about it. Why? Have you heard from that douchebag again?”
“Nothing.” It’s been weeks. “Maybe I’m worried for nothing.”
“I say fuck ’em all and enjoy your life.”
“That’s easy for you to say. There aren’t pictures of you plastered on the internet with headlines about sex parties.” It didn’t take much to talk Mama off the ledge the morning she called about that. I spoon-fed her lies and she gobbled them up, happy to hear that the headlines are wrong and her daughter is not a deviant, though she had plenty to say about my costume and none of it was good.
The one positive that came out of it is that Mama is back to messaging me. She hasn’t brought up the wedding or Henry once, sticking to talk of weather, Jed and Laura, Daddy’s rehab. But at least she’s talking to me again.
“Excuse me, have we met?”
I turn toward the sultry female voice and my mood sours instantly. “Roshani Mafi.” As if I would ever forget that name or face.
The raven-haired beauty cocks her head. “So we do know each other.”
“Not really. We met at the Wolf in Alaska. You were there for the grand opening.” With aims to fuck Henry before her suitcase made it to her penthouse suite. I guess I can’t blame her for that weekend entirely, though. Scott was the true harbinger, feeding off my insecurities. Still … I hate her.
Her lips curve, but the smile doesn’t reach her near-black eyes. “You’re Henry’s assistant.” Still using his first name as if they’re personally connected, I see.
“Was his assistant. That was months ago.”
“That’s right. Now you’re engaged.” Her gaze flitters to my left hand. “I would have expected something more extravagant from him.”
I force a wide smile. “Clearly, you don’t know him, then.”
She makes a sound and then murmurs, “Congratulations,” after a delayed moment.
“Thank you.”
“Where is Henry tonight? I was hoping to see him.” She looks around as if expecting him to appear.
“In Barcelona.” Considering the last time they spoke when Henry threatened to notify her employer—Luxury Travel, a magazine doing a special spread for the grand opening—of the things she was up to on their corporate dime, I wouldn’t think she’d be eager to cross paths with him again.
“Sad about his brother, isn’t it?” She tsks, as if Scott suffered some unfortunate event instead of embezzling funds from the company and conspiring to murder William Wolf to protect his inheritance, before dying while attacking me in his sick form of retribution. That last part, very few people know about, though.
Just mentioning his name has tension cording my muscles. “That’s right. You knew Scott well.” Three condoms well, according to what the hotel staff found strewn around her suite the next day. It’s funny, the tiny details you remember when you’ve been to hell and back.
She makes a sound. “Not well enough to guess what he was capable of.” Her eyes flicker to Ronan, where they linger. “And you are …”
“Her friend.” Ronan’s never been one to flirt as brazenly as Connor does, which makes him seem standoffish. In Roshana’s case, the unfriendlier, the better. I imagine she’s not used to this reaction from men. I might hate her, but even I can admit that she’s beautiful.
Roshana admires Ronan for another long moment before saying, “Have a wonderful weekend, and tell your boss I said hi.”
“Ex-boss.” And no, I don’t think I will.
She strolls away, swinging her curvy hips.
“Who was that?” Ronan asks.
“A snake who will bite off your dick.” Belinda was not wrong when she called Roshana a viper. Ronan’s face fills with grim amusement, and I sigh. “A catalyst for the worst mistake of my life.” I reluctantly tell Ronan the abbreviated version.
“That’s the one Andy was working for that weekend,” Ronan says, putting pieces together on his end.
“Yeah.” The Australian who happily claimed Roshana and her blond companion used his body for their amusement. For weeks, I had believed it was Henry who went home with them that night. He didn’t do anything to dissuade me of that belief, but he already knew about the terrible blunder I’d made with Michael. In a twisted way, Henry lied to protect me from the truth: that I had cheated on him.