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And another.

Until I make it to the elevator and down to the lobby, my entire body numb and functioning solely on autopilot as I head outside and hail the nearest taxi.

It’s only when I slide onto the leather seat that I realize exactly what just happened, and I break down into full-blown sobs.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CULLEN

“Where is he?”

“Seriously. Do you see anyone else here other than the sad man draped over my bar?” There’s a pause. “Don’t give me that look. I needed your help. I can’t leave him here overnight, and I’m not about to lug him back to Brooklyn.”

“It’s four a.m.”

“And you answered my call on the first ring.”

“And now I’m considering blocking you.”

“Just help me so we can both go home.”

A hand grabs the back of my shirt, lifting me off the bar with excessive force. Rafe’s nose wrinkles as he scans me before glaring back at Sonny.

“How much did you give him?”

“I didn’t give him anything. Anthony, on the other hand, might’ve given him a few glasses.”

“He’s barely coherent.”

“A few is a relative term.”

“I’m fully coherent.” The words are slightly slurred, countering my argument.

Rafe lets out a sigh, pulling me off the stool and positioning my arm over his shoulders to support me.

“You better be able to walk. Otherwise, I’m dragging you out of here.”

My head pounds. It’s as though someone has taken a sledgehammer to my skull and keeps whacking it like a drum. I groan, pressing the heel of my palm against my right eye as I push up from my bed.

Not my bed.

Or my room.

Memories start coming back to me in fractured pieces. After five days of radio silence from Verity, five days of respecting her wishes and not reaching out to her, five days of still swinging by her apartment in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her and seeing nothing, I cracked.

I had dinner with some clients after closing out a deal for their new retail space on Fifth Ave. It should’ve been a celebration from the sheer amount of commission I am going to make, but one of the clients brought his new fiancée. Spending three hours hearing them talk about their wedding plans and being all lovey-dovey with each other just reminded me of all I was missing with Verity, and no amount of expensive red wine fixed the issue.

The restaurant had been near Sonny’s place, so I’d dragged myself over there and continued to order drinks in the hope that it would erase her from my mind for even a minute.

It hadn’t worked.

It just made me miss her more.

At some point, things got hazy, but I vaguely remember Rafe shoving me into a car because he had the care of a giant and cracked my elbow on the door.

I am in the spare room in his brownstone by the look of it. He hadn’t even bothered to put me in the bed; he’d just dumped meon top of the sheets and hoped for the best. I am still in my suit, but at least he’d taken my shoes off—although I suspect that was more for his benefit than my own, so I wouldn’t scuff the duvet.

I slip off the bed, loosening my tie and undoing the buttons around my wrists. I roll my shirtsleeves to my elbows as I stumble to the bathroom. My mouth tastes like ass, and I feel like shit.