Page 12 of House of Desire

Not only is this man tough and smart and funny and incredibly handsome, he’s kind and caring. My heart skips a beat.

I look at the guy and I know men like him are given a slap on the wrist and nothing more. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to have him held accountable.

“Yes, I would like to press charges.”

Aaron tries to turn and run, but my brother lunges for the young guy, horse collaring him and pulling him down to the ground once more.

“You’ll stay there until the cops come,” he tells him, his voice full of threat and danger.

Miles pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number from memory, running a gentle finger down my arm.

“Hey, I have someone who needs you,” he says when they answer, moving off to the side.

The head coach and owner make their way to our group, as well as Lorelei and Tank. Once Miles is off the phone, he repeats the story to their coach.

“Effective immediately, you are no longer affiliated with the Thunderhawks and have no access to team resources, including in-house counsel. Your locker will be cleaned out and your things mailed to you. You are not to set foot in the stadium again,” the coach declares, red faced. Aaron pales further and a small part of me is happy at his discomfort.

About forty-five minutes later, Aaron is led from the room by one of the cops and Miles’s lawyer promises to call me in the morning.

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Miles asks after everything is done.

“No, thank you. I have to go over to Tank’s house to get my car. Plus, my brother is about to have an aneurysm and I know leaving right now wouldn’t be helpful,” I smile shyly up at him. “But maybe we could get dinner some time?”

Despite the awful end to the evening, I’ve felt butterflies talking to Miles all night long. Right as he opens his mouth to speak, his phone rings, pulling his attention.

“Would you excuse me? This is my girlfriend,” he says before moving away, answering the call.

I freeze momentarily like a marble statue, my mouth dropping open. My mind skips through the night, wondering if I misread all the signals I thought I was picking up. If he had a girlfriend, why was he flirting with me? Was it just to increase how much he’d go for in the auction?

As I come back into my body, betrayal is all I feel. For the first time in years, I was looking forward to possibly going on a date with someone and spending some time away from the bakery. Maybe finding someone who could be a partner.

Lore talking about the guy who is going to be the lead on the dating show pops into my head. How great she thinks he is. And my hurt takes control of my mouth as I turn toward her.

“Do you really think your brother can get me on House of Desire?” I ask.

Her smile is evil. “Hell yeah.”

Regret has been a constant thorn in my side over the past five and a half months as I’ve gotten ready for my time on House of Desire. My days become constantly filled with meetings, fittings, and filming for commercials and other various spots, causing the regret to crystallize more and more. I can almost see it walking through my house like a ghostly shadow.

Why would I go from not dating anyone to dating twenty women? I must have had a stroke. That’s the only explanation.

“I don’t understand why you’re packing. You’re the principle of the show. Alec said they have a whole wardrobe for you,” Charlie says, laying on my crisp white bedding while flipping through the edits on her book that her agent sent her. After the raging success of her story based on our time in the mansion, Charlie finally picked up her novel again and finished it.

“Who wants to wear underwear someone else bought for them?” I ask her, shoving said underwear into the bag in my hand. The bottles of cologne on the top of my walnut dresser clink together as I shut the drawer with my hip. I pull open my sock drawer and begin shoving them into my bag without any regard for order.

She looks up at me, tapping her pen on her chin.

“You might just have a point there. Did I ever tell you that you won me a hundred dollars by agreeing to do this?”

“A few times.” I smile over at her. “Is Courtney still pissed?”

“She’ll get over it,” she says, making a note on the page she’s looking at.

“Why did I do this again?” I ask her, zipping up my bag.

She must hear something in my tone because she sits up and puts a cap on the pen, moving her book off to the side. I drop my bag and turn to lean against my dresser.

“Because you deserve to have someone love you and love them in return,” she tells me, her sapphire blue eyes earnest.

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