Chapter 25

Chapter 25

“This robe is damn comfy,” I walked out of the bathroom rubbing one of the arms. “No wonder you put it on all the time. I thought you were just being modest. Do you think—”

Whack. Something hit my head. Hard.

I reached up and felt wetness, right above my left eyebrow.

Confused, I expected an intruder or something. But instead, what I found when I looked up was one very pissed-off woman.

“What the fuck, Sophia? Did you just throw something at me?”

Her face was bright red. “You piece of shit!”

My cell sat a few feet away on the floor. There was a crack down the middle of the screen. “Was that my phone?” I looked at my fingers. The wetness was blood. “I’m freaking bleeding!”

“Good!”

“Have you lost your mind? You just cracked my head open with my phone!”

“Apparently, I have—for ever having gotten involved with you in any way. Get out, Weston. Get out now!”

“What’s going on? What the hell did I do?”

“What did you do? I’ll tell you what the hell you did. You were born!”

“Soph, I don’t know what crawled up your ass. But whatever you think I did, you don’t throw a damn phone at my head.”

She marched over to the end table and picked up a bedside lamp. “You’re right. This will hurt more. Now get out or it’ll be the next thing to hit your head.”

I held up my hands. “Just tell me what I did—or what the hell you think I did, and I’ll go.”

She stared at me and spoke through gritted teeth. “Did you get what we need from the Sterling girl?”

My face wrinkled up. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Does that not ring a bell? How about I have it. Just waiting until she’s done to see if anything changes.”

Maybe it was the head injury, but even that took a few seconds to sink in. But when it did, it hit me harder than the phone had. I closed my eyes.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

She’d read my emails.

I shook my head. “I can explain.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

I took a step toward her. “Soph, listen—”

“Don’t take another step!” She went quiet for a long moment. I watched as tears filled her eyes, though she did her best to fight them back. Her voice shook when she finally spoke again. “Just leave. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

When her bottom lip trembled, I felt it in my heart. “I’ll go. But we need to talk, Soph. It’s not what you think.”

A fat tear rolled down her cheek, but she held my gaze steady. “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that email is about something besides you using me to steal information on our bid?”

I swallowed. “No. But—”

She held up her hands. “Please just go, Weston.”

I looked down. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over. We need to talk when you’re calm.”

Not wanting to disrespect her anymore than I already had, I walked to the door. Giving her the space she needed was the very least I could do. So I left quietly, without another word.

Out in the hallway, an older woman stepped out of her room a few doors over. Seeing me, she pulled her cardigan closed and turned her head. It wasn’t until then that I realized I was still wearing only the hotel bathrobe. I’d also left my room key inside, not to mention my now-broken cell phone. Glancing briefly back at Sophia’s suite, I decided knocking was not an option. I’d just have to suck it up and walk down to the lobby like this to get a new room key. And the cell phone…well, that was the least of my worries now. The only thing that mattered was getting Sophia to listen to me.

Though I wasn’t sure even that would fix what I’d destroyed.

***

The next day, I dragged my ass out of bed at seven, though I hadn’t slept a wink. I pulled on a pair of pants and shirt, brushed my teeth, and splashed some water on my face. The Band-Aid I’d stuck on my head last night was darkened with dried blood now, so I changed it to a fresh one. That was the extent of the grooming I could muster. Fuck shaving. Fuck showering.

I’d spent the last eight or nine hours going over what I was going to say to Sophia. If I told her the truth, she wasn’t going to like a lot of it. But lying and keeping things from her was what had gotten me into this mess, and if I was ever going to regain her trust, I had to start coming clean right now. Even if the truth hurt.

Downstairs in the lobby, I bought two large coffees and went directly to Sophia’s office. Her door was shut, so I headed to her team’s conference room.

I knocked and pulled open the door. “Is Sophia here?”

Charles shook his head. “Rough night?”

“Huh?”

He pointed at the Band-Aid on my forehead.

“Oh,” I said. “Something like that. Is she here?”

“Nope. Try her cell. Though she should be boarding right now. So you might not catch her for a few hours.”

“Boarding? Where’s she going?”

“To West Palm. To see her grandfather.”

Fuck.

She’d had a trip planned for later this week, the day before the bids were due, but not today. “Do you know why she went?”

Charles pursed his lips. “I’m assuming to discuss business. And I’m sure I’ve already given you more information than the Sterlings would want me to. So if you have any other questions, you should direct them to Sophia.”

Deflated, I walked to my office. I needed to get in touch with her, though I’d have to get her number from someone since I didn’t have it committed to memory, and I still didn’t have my cell. Opening my office door, I found a pile of stuff on my desk. At the top of the stack of folded clothes I’d left in her suite last night was my cracked cell phone.

My shoulders slumped. Sophia’s message was loud and clear. She’s done with me.

The rest of the day, I went through the motions. I dealt with the fallout from the flooding in the ballroom construction, reviewed a few last-minute appraisal reports that had come in, met with my legal team, and stopped by the cell phone store to get my screen repaired. Luckily that seemed to be the only damage, which was surprising, considering it had hit my skull hard enough to crack. I’d called Sophia four times, but each time I was sent to voice mail. The things I needed to say to her weren’t things that could be said over the phone, much less in messages. So each time I hung up.

By six in the evening, I was starting to go stir crazy, so I decided to take a walk outside. The first bar I passed caught my attention, but I kept going, not slowing down. The second one was on the same block. I hesitated slightly, but nevertheless walked on by. By the third bar in as many blocks, I started to feel the damn things calling my name. So when I slowed to a crawl, I forced myself to call an Uber rather than even attempt to walk the couple of blocks back to The Countess.

Lucky for me, New York was flooded with as many Ubers as it had cabs these days, so my car pulled up within two minutes.

“The Countess hotel?” the driver said, looking in the rearview mirror. He was probably thinking what a lazy fuck since it was so close.

“Yeah…actually, no—scratch that. Can you take me to 409 Bowery, instead?”

The guy made a face. “You’ll have to do that in the app.”

I grumbled and dug into my pocket. Peeling a hundred from my billfold, I tossed it over the front seat. “Just drive. We good?”

The guy scooped up the hundred and stuffed it in his pocket. “You got it.”

***

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. It’s almost time for Jeopardy!. Did you at least bring me scratch-offs if you’re going to interrupt my show?”

It was the first time I could remember showing up empty-handed. And it wasn’t that I hadn’t remembered.

“Sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t want to stop. The deli I usually go to down the block sells beer.”

Mr. Thorne picked up the remote and flicked off the TV. “Take a seat, son.”

He said nothing more, instead waiting for me to tell him what was going on. I knew he’d sit patiently until I sorted out my head, so I blew out a deep breath and raked a hand through my hair. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

I dropped my head into my hands. “I fucked up.”

“That’s okay. We all make mistakes. Every day is an opportunity for a new chance at sobriety.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not that. I didn’t drink anything. When I realized I was heading in that direction, I grabbed a ride and came straight here.”

“Well, that’s good. That’s what a sponsor is for. I’m glad you felt like you could come to me. So tell me what’s going on, then.”

I blew out a jagged breath. “You know the woman I’ve mentioned a few times—the one you met the other day at The Countess?”

He nodded. “Sure. Sophia. The woman who wants to kick you in the balls half the time and is way too beautiful for your ugly ass?”

I cracked a sad smile. “Yeah. That’s her.”

“What about her?”

“We’re together now. Or, at least we were.”

“Okay…what happened to change things?”

“I betrayed her trust.”

“You cheated on her?”

“No. Well, not in the way you’re thinking anyway.”

“Then how?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I guess you’re lucky you have a captive audience. You do know my legs don’t work, and I can’t get up and leave no matter how boring your sorry-ass tale of woe is, right?”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

Even though Mr. Thorne already knew the worst of me, I was embarrassed to admit what I’d done. At least most of the shitty stuff I’d pulled over the years could be blamed on the alcohol.

“Go on,” he encouraged. “Trust me, whatever it is, I’ve done worse, son. I’m not going to think any less of you.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath, readying to start at the beginning. “Well, I told you our families don’t get along. Our grandfathers fought over a woman named Grace more than fifty years ago. Grace died a few months ago, leaving forty-nine percent of the hotel each to my and Sophia’s grandfather’s.”

Mr. Thorne grumbled. “Only thing my ex ever gave me was divorce papers.”

I smiled. “Anyway, my grandfather loathes Sophia’s grandfather. And you know what a bad place I’ve been in with him ever since my last screwup.”

He nodded. “I do.”

I inhaled deeply. “Well, my grandfather called me right after I’d gotten off the plane Sophia had been on with me. I mentioned who I’d just sat next to, and he laid into me about getting distracted by a skirt.” I shook my head. “He told me to turn around and get back on the next return flight, said I wasn’t the man for the job because women and booze were my weaknesses. I told him he was wrong, but he said he’d send my father instead. Then he hung up on me. I’d just exited security, so I figured I’d get some fresh air and decide what to do next. Ten minutes later, Grandfather called back and said he’d changed his mind and had a new strategy. Since I was a womanizer, he wanted me to seduce Sophia and get the Sterlings’ bid from her.”

Mr. Throne’s eyes were dark with disappointment. “And you agreed to do that?”

I closed my eyes and hung my head, nodding. “I didn’t think beyond getting him to let me stay so I could prove I’m not a total loser. I would’ve agreed to anything. After I sobered up, I realized I didn’t have much left in my life except for my job. I’d lost Caroline, and most of my friends were partyers, and I had to take myself out of that environment.” I scoffed. “You’re pretty much the only friend I’ve got.”

He shook his head. “Of all the things we’ve talked about over the years, that last part has to be the saddest. But we’ll come back to that. Let’s keep our focus on the girl. So you told your grandfather you’d do it, and then what?”

I shrugged. “Then…I fell in love with her.”

“So you started things with the intention of seducing this woman, and that changed?”

“That’s the thing. Even though I told my grandfather I’d play his game, I never really did. Sophia and I have had this odd love-hate relationship since high school. So when I was giving her a hard time and things got heated, it wasn’t part of playing her. It was real. It was always freaking real. Nothing I ever said or did with Sophia had to do with my grandfather.” I raked my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands. “But every time he asks if I’m going to be able to come through with their bid information, I assure him I will.”

“But you never intended to get that information out of Sophia?”

I shook my head. “I was planning on making up a number a little under mine and rolling the dice. If my work coming up with the number was right, we’d win the bid anyway, and no one would be the wiser.”

“Did you tell Sophia that?”

“She never gave me the chance to.”

“And now you think she isn’t going to believe the truth when you finally lay it out for her.”

“I’m certain she won’t. The entire thing sounds like bullshit—even when I just told you the story.”

Mr. Thorne nodded. “I hate to say it. But you’re right.”

“Great.” My shoulders slumped. “I came here thinking you’d tell me something different.”

“Considering I’m your only friend, I’d say it’s my job to tell it like it is. You don’t need me blowing smoke up your ass. You need a friend to vent to, to work through your problems with, and help you figure out how to solve them. And most of all, you need someone to remind you that drinking is only going to make shit worse.”

I looked up at him. “I know. I guess I just wanted to pretend there’s an easy way out of this mess for a little while.”

“I know, son. When something good happens, our first instinct is to drink to celebrate. When something bad happens, we’re ready to drink to forget. And when nothing happens, we drink to make it happen. That’s why we’re alcoholics. But we can’t drown our problems. Because our sorrows are Olympic swimmers.”

I forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. That’s what best friends are for. Just don’t expect me to braid your hair. By the way, I’ve been meaning to mention that you could use a damn haircut.”

I wound up staying at Mr. Thorne’s for most of the night. We never did come up with an easy way out of the mess I’d gotten myself into. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t an easy way out of this one. I hoped there was a way out at all.