Page 8 of Crossing the Red Line (Vancouver Dominators)

Lucas

We walked down the hallway of the hotel toward our room, Ella hanging off my arm.

She’d had a lot to drink during our celebratory dinner, and I knew she’d regret it come morning.

I also knew the drinking wasn’t the only thing she was going to regret come morning, I thought as I guided her down the hall.

I should have been the responsible one. She hated the idea of marriage. She’d told me as much as before we’d left. Yet when she said yes to getting married, some part of me wondered if maybe I could change that for her, which was why instead of being the one to stop it, I went along with it.

Had I been that desperate to have another chance with her? I guess I had, and I knew now that come morning, that second chance would be taken from me the moment she realized exactly what we’d done.

Once we got to our room, I directed her to lean against the wall while I pulled my wallet from my pocket and searched for the key. Finally finding it, I took it and held it against the door and glanced over at Ella to see she was holding her hand out in front of her, frowning as she looked at it.

“Why are you frowning?” I questioned, shoving my foot against the door to keep it from closing on us. “Is something wrong with your hand?”

“You know…” she said, looking over at me, “for a big shot hockey player I thought I’d have gotten a decent sized rock. Instead, my finger is naked.” She giggled, holding her hand in my face and hiccupping.

“Forgive me,” I mumbled. “I had less than thirty seconds to digest the fact we were getting married, thanks to you and your mouth. Besides, when you sober up in the morning and remember what happened, you’ll want out of this quicker than you got into it, and you’ll be glad you don’t have a rock on that finger, as will I. Trust me.”

“Trust you? I did trust you and look at where that got me.”

I used my foot to hold the door while I guided her inside the room before we got into it in the hallway, then shut the door and locked it.

Then I bent down, and with one hand on her hip, I grabbed her right shoe, carefully pulling it off her foot, then the left before standing up again and slipping my own shoes off.

“No comment to what I said?” she questioned.

“Where did your trust get you?” I asked, looking down into her face.

She looked up at me, sadness in her eyes.

“Heartbroken, single, hating all men, and wishing now more than ever that I could be lucky enough to have one more chance with you.”

I studied the look in her eyes as she looked up at me.

Was I really the cause of her unhappiness?

That was impossible. We’d broken up a long time ago.

There was no way she wasn’t over me, was there?

Sure, I’d gone down the Ella tunnel occasionally, maybe more often than I should have, but girls didn’t do that, did they?

They always had guys at their beck and call, more so than us men.

“Not going to say anything to that, are you?” she said, placing her hand on my cheek.

What was I supposed to say? The look in her eyes was enough to kill me. Was I supposed to tell her I was sorry for something I never knew I did?

“It’s okay, Lucas. You don’t have to say anything. I am sure it’s a lot to learn that your ex-girlfriend still thinks of you and still wants you. If I were sober, I’d never tell you that either,” she said, wrapping her arms around me and leaning her head on my chest.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around her. Fuck, she was all I wanted, and truth be told, she was also the reason I’d not been in a serious relationship since we’d ended. No matter what excuses I told the guys, she was the reason. The only reason I needed.

I loved Ella Larson, and I couldn’t deny it any longer.

I held her against me, wondering if I shouldn’t just tell her the truth. Otherwise, there was no way I could take her tonight in the way I wanted.

I argued with myself. Should I tell her, shouldn’t I. The internal debate was driving me crazy. Would she even remember me saying anything to her? Perhaps waiting until tomorrow was better. Sober was always the better option in my book.

“Part of me wishes this was real because I know it wouldn’t be a mistake,” she murmured against my chest.

My eyes flew open, and panic flooded me. Did she think the ceremony was fake? I could already feel her wrath when she found out it was as real as they had come. She’d probably never speak to me again.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I think it’s time to get you into bed,” I said, unwrapping her arms from around my waist and guiding her toward her room.

I’d just turned to help her down the two stairs when she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Now you are talking. Take me to bed and have your way with me,” she said, reaching over and pulling at the tie my mother insisted I wore, then undoing the top two buttons on my shirt.

“Ella, what do you think you’re doing?” I questioned.

She looked up at me with laughter in her eyes, which quickly turned serious when I didn’t start laughing.

“Even if it is our fake wedding night, I figured you’d want…” Her voice cracked as she stopped speaking and studied me.

There it was. She really believed this had all been fake. I could only imagine what she’d do when she found out it was true.

“Lucas? Do you not want to?” she asked.

There wasn’t a bone in my body that didn’t want to, but before I could say anything, she tore her eyes away from mine and looked around the room. I could see the tears forming. She swallowed hard and then turned those tear-filled eyes my way.

“It’s okay, I get it. It’s not like I haven’t been in this position before. In fact, it’s been more often this position than the other.” She forced a weak, embarrassed laugh.

I felt her hand slip from mine as she turned away from me and carefully climbed up the two stairs from the sunken living room to her bedroom door.

I didn’t know what emotion I was feeling. What I knew was that I didn’t want her to walk away from me thinking I didn’t want her.

“Ella…” I called out as my voice cracked.

Only she didn’t turn toward me. With her hand on the door, she stopped.

“Don’t worry Lucas. I understand.”

What did she understand? Before I could ask, before I could even realize what it was she thought she understood, she’d slipped in behind her bedroom door and closed it, and all I could hear were her deep sobs coming from the other side.

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, like I’d done most of the night.

The rest of it, I’d tossed and turned. I let out a sigh, then slipped from the bed, throwing on my grey sweatpants before making my way to the washroom where I splashed water on my face before heading out to make us both a coffee.

There was no doubt in my mind we needed to talk this morning.

I dried my face, took a deep breath, and made my way out of my room.

Her door was still closed, the lights were all off.

She was probably feeling it this morning, I thought as I made my way toward the small kitchenette and flipped on the light.

I filled the coffeemaker and flipped the switch on and leaned against the counter, my mind filling once again with thoughts of us from before and now.

The feeling of that first kiss, once again, then holding her in my arms the other night, then the sound of her voice as she screamed my name as she climaxed, the feeling of her nails digging into my back.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and pushed myself off the counter and made my way over to her door.

Throwing the door open, the room was dark. The only light spilling in was the light from the kitchenette. Making my way over toward her bed, I sat down on the edge, gently running my hand over to where I’d expected her to be lying only to feel nothing but the bedding.

I leaned over and flipped on the light to find the bed was empty, not even slept in. I frowned and looked around for her bags, but they, too, were gone.

I frowned and got up off the bed and headed toward the bathroom, to find all her stuff gone from there too. She’d left.

I rushed out of the bedroom and to my room, grabbing my phone from my charger. There was nothing from her, or anyone for that matter. I grabbed my shirt, throwing it over my head, and took off toward the kitchen to shut off the coffeemaker.

Running toward the door, I slipped my shoes on and was about to pull the door open but stopped dead when I saw a piece of paper folded taped to the door with my name scribbled on it.

I pulled it off and opened it. As I read what she’d written, I sank to the floor. With my heart in my throat, I realized I was too late.

She was gone.