Are you still at the office?
I’m finished with dinner and could use a drink…
I CHECKED MY messages for the umpteenth time, and when I saw Mr. Carrington still hadn’t responded to the ones I’d sent a couple hours ago, I considered calling him. But it was too loud at the club my friends had chosen to make an appearance at tonight. At least, that was the excuse I was going with, because the truth was, I didn’t want even more radio silence from him.
Today hadn’t gone anything like I’d expected. Mr. Carrington showing up at Astor, demanding the truth, and then shutting me down when it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
Well, I didn’t think that was necessarily true. He wouldn’t let himself hear. But dropping by his office tonight to convince him otherwise had only gotten me cockblocked by his friend Benoit. But there had been a moment between us, one I knew he’d felt too, and if I could just get him alone again, I could show him.
“If you’re gonna be on your phone with Serena all night, you should’ve just invited her,” West said, knocking into my shoulder as he sidled up beside me at the bar.
I quickly shoved my phone into my pants pocket. “Can’t interrupt girls’ night.”
“Girls’ night?” West held up two fingers for the bartender, who nodded. “What does that entail? Manicures? Strippers?”
“You know what, I’ve never asked.”
“You’re not curious what she gets up to when you’re not around?”
Not in the slightest. If anything funny or interesting ever happened, Serena would end up telling me anyway, but what she did wasn’t any of my business.
The same as what I did wasn’t anything she needed to know right now.
I shook my head as two bourbon sours appeared in front of West. “Some of us don’t need to stalk our significant others.”
West scoffed. “I don’t stalk—”
“What was that?” His boyfriend, JT, dropped his chin on West’s shoulder from behind. “Because I know you weren’t about to say you didn’t stalk me when Preston was there for all of it.”
“Finding out helpful information isn’t the same thing, Golden Boy.”
“Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that.” JT grabbed his drink and took a sip. “I think it’s nice that Serena has her nights out. She has to get sick of hanging out with us all the time.”
West glanced back at his boyfriend. “You trying to say something?”
“No, but sometimes it’s nice to have friends outside your immediate group.”
“Like Caleb?”
“Well, yeah, he was the first friend I made at Astor, and he still won’t say why he doesn’t want to hang with this group. So I have to make time outside of you.”
I glanced past the two lovebirds to the dance floor, where Travis was bumping and grinding with tonight’s latest conquest, and tried to come up with a way to excuse myself. The last thing I wanted to do was get caught up in a discussion about someone else’s business, and Caleb’s reason for not hanging out with our group was the one person who held all of my secrets—Travis.
JT kissed West’s cheek. “But don’t worry. You’re still my top priority.”
“I better be.”
I’d grabbed my drink, about to head back to where the rest of our crowd was milling, when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I stepped away from prying eyes, and when I pulled my phone out and saw a notification from FILTH on my screen, my heart began to thump wildly.
Mr. Carrington had texted back.
I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised, but seeing his nickname on my screen made me glance around to make sure no one else was looking. Not that anyone would know who it was, which was the exact reason I’d used it. Well, that, and because it fit him to a tee.
Archer “Filth” Carrington…
I ducked off to the side of the club and into a shadowed corner, where I opened the message.
FILTH:
I’m at home, it’s late. Good night.
Not the kind of response I’d been hoping for, but it was better than nothing. It was an open line of communication, and I had enough of a buzz happening that I was going to take it.
It is a good night. It could be better, though. What are you doing?
I grinned as I hit send. The message was generic enough that he couldn’t accuse me of overstepping. I was just being polite. Cordial.
The three dots that popped up made my pulse race. He was writing back. He hadn’t turned the phone off, which he’d do if he didn’t want to talk, right?
FILTH:
Reading through the quotes you dropped off at the office.
That was it. That was all he wrote. No question. No lead-in to a more in-depth conversation. Just a succinct response designed to make me lose interest.
It was a brilliant plan, really, and probably would’ve worked—if the very mention of him in his office didn’t bring to mind the sexy picture he made sitting behind his desk. The same desk I’d imagined him bending me over.
My cock jerked as I remembered the way he’d eyed my mouth this afternoon like he wanted another taste, and I had a feeling that if his friend hadn’t been there, he would’ve taken it.
I could come over and go through them with you if you like.
FILTH:
No.
The response was immediate, and I knew why. He didn’t trust himself around me. I’d seen it in his eyes today in the study room. I took another sip of my drink, and the alcohol hummed through me, making me bold.
Are you sure? I did volunteer to help.
FILTH:
And it was a mistake for me to accept that help.
A misguided sense of confidence ran through me. I was getting to him, breaking through his no-nonsense texts—but then another message came through, then another, and another.
FILTH:
It was a mistake to come see you today.
And a mistake that night of the charity event.
You need to stop texting. This, all of it, you, was a mistake that we both need to move on from. I’m turning off my phone now.
I stared at the rapid-fire responses and read them one after another, over and over again until they blurred into one. I zeroed in on the word mistake that he’d written four times.
Four. Fucking. Times.
I was a mistake?
Our kiss was a mistake?
Fuck. That.
The irritation flowing through me had me looking around for the one person I could count on to make me feel better, to forget about how stupid I’d been to think there was any kind of chance with Archer.
Mr. Carrington. Whatever.
As expected, East was surrounded by a group of admirers hanging on his every word, but it only took me tugging on his arm and saying, “I need you,” to get his full attention.
Of all of the Park Avenue Princes, East was the most judgmental by far, and his upper lip curled as those assessing eyes raked over me.
“You need me? I agree, but in what way in particular?”
“I don’t want to remember anything from tonight when I wake up tomorrow.”
His arched brow rose even higher. “Drinks or something a little stronger?”
That was why I went to East. He didn’t ask why, trusting that if someone had fucked with us, we’d tell him so revenge could be exacted. Anything else and he’d make it happen.
“Drinks,” I said.
“A shit-faced Preston. This’ll be fun.”
He steered me toward the main bar, and it never ceased to amaze the way people scattered to get out of our way. East leaned over the bar, whispering something in the bartender’s ear, and a few moments later, several shot glasses were set out in front of us.
“Cheers to me. Cheers to you. Cheers to a drink that lets you forget all that you do!” He clinked his glass against mine. “Get messy, my friend. I promise you’ll remember nothing tomorrow.”
I didn’t bother asking what he’d ordered, just downed the shots one at a time, and to his credit, East didn’t let me drink alone. That was what friends were for, right?
“Whoa, what the hell is going on here without me?” Travis moved in between us, stealing the last of East’s shots and throwing it back. His face puckered and he slammed the empty glass on the bar. “Holy shit, you drank six of those?”
“Mind your business,” East said, pushing Travis away before reaching for the large glass with two straws that had appeared between us. Whatever he’d ordered was layered, dark to light, and again, I didn’t much care what it was.
Calling me a mistake… The texts Mr. Carrington sent still irked, and I didn’t want to think about them.
I lowered my mouth to the straw as East did the same, our foreheads almost touching.
“Go,” he said, and I began to suck down the drink in large pulls, ignoring the fact that the rest of our friends had gathered around us and were egging us on.
All but Travis, who leaned in by my ear and said in a low voice, “You good, man?”
East lifted his head, shooting Travis a glare. “Fuck off before you kill his buzz.”
I couldn’t see Travis’s reaction, since I was still sucking down the alcohol—and starting to feel a nice buzz—but he’d backed away.
“Is that Preston doing a Mind Eraser?” Gavin said, surprise in his voice.
Mind Eraser. That was perfect for what I was trying to do. Was there anything called a Text Eraser? ’Cause I wanted one of those too.
Fucking mistake, my ass.
East and I finished off the drink, and his lips quirked as I took in a deep breath. Already my head felt a little lighter. It was a welcome feeling, one I wanted more of.
“What’s next?” I shouted over the DJ talking at the start of the next song.
“Now we dance.” When East waggled his brows, I shook my head.
“You know I don’t like to dance.”
“I think you’ll find that, after all those drinks, you do.”
He curled his fingers into the waist of my pants and walked backward, pulling me into the center of the VIP’s dance floor, and I was too weightless to protest. At some point he took off his jacket, leaving him in a fitted black vest over a white collared shirt, and I understood why. The air was thick and hot and stifling, and wearing both a long-sleeved shirt and a sweater over it was making my skin boil.
I pulled the sweater up over my head and tossed it in Travis’s direction, ignoring the way he stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
I hadn’t lost it. At least, not yet.
This, all of it, you, was a mistake…
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in through my nose and tried to forget. That would be easy enough with the music up so loud it should be able to drown out my thoughts.
A pair of hands landed on either side of my hips, and my eyes shot open to see East grinning in that immoral way he had about him.
“I know you’re straight, but for fuck’s sake, you’ve got to learn how to move your hips,” he shouted.
It was on the tip of my tongue to refute his words, to spill my secrets, but I was having difficulty forming a coherent sentence. Instead, I focused on the music and letting my body move along with it, barely noticing when East dropped his hands from me.
I was in my own world, the alcohol loosening my usual inhibitions and allowing me to just feel. The beat throbbed through me as I moved in amongst the throng of people all bumping and grinding. As I turned to see who had moved in behind me, I spotted Travis.
He grabbed my arm and tugged me in close. “What’s going on with you?” he shouted by my ear.
I jerked my arm free, shaking my head. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He reached for me again, and when I went to bat his hand away, he took hold of it and began to lead me off the dance floor.
Fucking hell. The one night I wanted Travis to be Travis, and instead he was acting like my goddamn mother.
“What are you doing?” I tore my hand from his the second we were clear of the crowd, and Travis rounded on me so fast I stumbled back a step.
“Saving your ass.”
I screwed my nose up and scoffed. “From what? Bad dancing?”
“From your fucking self, is what.” Travis’s jaw bunched as he looked me over. “When was the last time you ever got drunk with the guys?”
“Um, never.”
“Exactly. And why is that?”
Because I had too many secrets that might come spilling out if my tongue got loose. One extra, if I counted my recent dumbass “mistake.” But I wasn’t counting that, so fuck him.
“I’m not going to say anything stuuupid,” I slurred, my tongue feeling more numb than loose.
“You don’t have to say anything to have people talking. East is already trying to work out if you were body-snatched tonight, and if you think for one second he’s going to let this go tomorrow, you got another thing coming.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see East dancing with a tall blond wearing leather pants and not much else. But his eyes were locked on us—shit.
“Exactly. I don’t know what set you off, but I have a feeling it starts with Daddy and ends with Filth—”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Mhmm. I think maybe you should call it a night and go sleep it off.”
“I don’t want—” My words were cut off as Travis grabbed my elbow and towed me toward the doors. I followed after him, my legs like Jell-O, and I had to admit I was glad for his hand. As we weaved through the people lingering around the front entrance, I had a feeling I would’ve face-planted if I’d been making a go of it on my own.
Jesus. What had been in those drinks?
As our feet hit the pavement, Scotty—our driver—pulled up in the Sprinter van our group used to get around the city, and the next thing I knew, Travis was putting me in the car.
I slumped down into the seat and heard him tell Scotty, “Take him home, would you?”
As the door slid shut, I glared out the window at the cars whizzing by. Horns honked as taxis, buses, and cars navigated the busy city streets, but as Scotty pulled away from the curb, all I could hear echoing in my head was—
You were a mistake…
A mistake…
A mistake…
A mistake, was I?
Well, if that was what the patronizing Mr. Archer Carrington thought, then he could say it to my damn face.
I leaned forward and tapped Scotty on the arm. “Change of plans. Take me to the Carringtons’ place.”
