Page 125 of Pretty Mess

Finally, he asks, “What the hell were youthankinghim for?”

“Because he’s opened my eyes, which I obviously needed.”

“Maybe we should give him a medal for shit-stirring, too, while we’re at it.”

I sigh. My eyes are hot, and I have a horrible feeling that I’m about to cry. I feel silly and very young all of a sudden. I’m obviously not built for this club. Nothing is what it seems. It’s a place that flaunts honesty but they’re all telling lies.

My heart is beating so fast I feel like the world has stopped and turned the other way. Maybe it has. It’s dizzying and I rub at my chest with my fist. “I’m such a stupid twat, Julian.”

“Don’tsaythat,” he says fiercely.

“But I am. I thought I was special to Mac—that he’d never treated a man like this before. Repeat visits and attention. The flat. The holiday. And now I find out he had the same arrangement with the man he’d kept before me. I’m the latest. And I’m sure I won’t be the last.”

He pats my hand, and at another time, I’d smile because he’s absolute crap at offering comfort, and it’s obviously panicking him. “I can’t believe he had a long-term arrangement with Brandon. That must have been after he attended the first time and didn’t come back for ages. No one said anything. Even Fox didn’t know.”

My smile is humourless. “Well, Mac does like his privacy.”

“I’m not sure you should take Brandon’s word for anything. There was something really off about him. Didn’t you notice?” I shake my head. “Maybe you should talk to Mac and?—”

“No. I don’t think that would go well.”

I bite my lip hard. The pain settles me a little and I’ve abruptly had enough. I don’t want to see the sympathy in Julian’s eyes. I just want to be alone where I can process all that I’ve learned tonight and start to come to terms with the end of the hopes that I’d very stupidly had. I pat his hand and tipmy head towards the door. “I’ll meet you outside. I just need a minute or two alone in here to get my breath back.”

He hesitates and then nods. “We’ll talk later?”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He rolls his eyes and hovers briefly before nodding and leaving the room.

I turn to look at myself in the mirror and groan, my entire body deflating. Earlier, I’d been curious to see how I’d changed since the last time I was at this club. Well, now I can see the evidence missing earlier. My hair looks like I’ve tugged at it a thousand times, my cheeks are pale, and my eyes are red-rimmed and hot.

“You are a fucking idiot,” I say out loud, watching my reflection mouth the words. “An absoluteidiot,” I repeat.

My cheeks sear with shame and embarrassment and pain tears at my insides like Brandon took a hook to my intestines and heart. Did Mac know I’d started to have feelings for him? That I’d been harbouring hope for more?

I watch my reflection grimace. Of course, he did. Maybe that’s why he’s brought me here. He’s not an unkind man but he’d probably felt the need to show me where things stood between us, and he’s definitely done that. I think of the inane, silly questions I asked him in Paris, and my face only gets hotter. I imagined I was being charming while he must have just thought I was a naive prat.

I run the cold tap and stick my wrists under the flow. I look at my reflection again. “Go out there and behave,” I say out loud. “Don’t let anyone see you’re hurt. You can get through this.”

The door opening startles me, and I turn to see Ian Harris step into the room. I offer him a thin smile, but it slips away as he lowers his hand and flicks the lock on the outer door.

I straighten, alarm rushing through me at that calculated gesture. He watches me, his expression knowing and cocky, and the alarm gets stronger.

“Hi,” I finally say, my voice husky. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know.”

I straighten up, drying my hands on a towel from a basket sitting on the counter. Then I step towards him, taking care to keep out of arm’s reach. “Do you mind opening the door?” I say quietly.

“Why?”

“Because I want to leave.”

My heart races, and it’s hard to draw a breath. When he shakes his head, my mouth goes dry with fear. There’s something in his eyes…

“I don’t think so,” he says. “I want to talk to you, Wes.”

I lick my lips nervously, immediately wishing I hadn’t when his eyes follow the gesture and flare hot. “Well, we can talk outside.”