Page 55 of The Billionaire and the Virgin

So he headed up the elevator, back toward his old room—the one Logan had kicked him out of so politely—and strolled down the hall.

Logan was still there, phone to his ear. He turned, spotted Rob, and hung up his phone. He stalked down the hall toward Rob, a contrast from his own strolling, forced casual steps. “I might have known you were still here, you piece of shit.”

“Hawkings,” he said broadly, extending his arms in a fake hug. “Come on. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I thought I told you to leave,” Logan snarled. “But no, you decided to play like a dirty dick when you didn’t get your way.”

Irritation sparked, even though Rob knew it shouldn’t have bothered him. He’d been called worse. “Actually, not at all—”

“Going after a sweet, innocent girl just to worm your way into a meeting with me? Don’t you think you’ve gone a little far with that?”

“Now wait just a goddamn minute—”

Logan threw his hands up, just as furious as Rob. “You want a meeting with me? Fine. I’ll meet with you, but you need to leave Marjorie Ivarsson alone.”

Rob clenched his jaw, rage blinding him. “You fucking leave heroutof this. She’smine.”

“You’re the one that needs to leave her out of this,” Logan roared. “She’s an innocent woman and you’re fucking trash to use her like this.”

“‘Use her’?” Now Rob was yelling. “Fuck you, Hawkings. I’m not using anyone.”

“Bullshit,” Logan said. “You win. You get your meeting, but you leave that girl alone.” He clenched a fist. “We won’t tell her about any of this. She’s a sweet, sheltered girl, and it’d break her heart. I’m not about to stomp on her feelings. I happen to give a shit about them.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Like I said. You win. We can meet tomorrow.”

“I don’t want your goddamn meeting. So you can tell me no? Go fuck yourself.”

“Get out of my goddamn resort.”

“If you kick me out, so help me, I will make the biggest fucking scene you can imagine.” Rob gave him a cold smile. “Your wedding is in what, two days? Hate to have a scandal show up on your doorstep just in time for it. The missus would probably be mighty upset.”

Logan’s shoulders heaved, and for a moment, Rob thought the man might punch him. Instead, Logan’s nostrils flared, he gave Rob one last simmering look, and then he stormed away.

Rob maintained his cool until Logan turned the corner. Then, he moved to the nearest wall and put his fist through it, leaving a gigantic hole in the drywall. His knuckles split, but the pain only momentarily dimmed his rage.

Fuck him. Fuck Logan if he thought that Rob was dicking around with Marjorie’s feelings. What kind of lowlife bastard did they think he was?

Worse, what kind of lowlife bastard was Marjorie going to think he was, once they told her the truth?

He punched the wall with his other fist. Great. Now both of them hurt, and he was still pissed.

Chapter Nineteen

When midnight passed and Marjorie didn’t call him, Rob started to get concerned. Surely they weren’t out to dinner this late, were they?

When oneA.M.slid into two in the morning, Rob decided to go to Marjorie’s room and talk to her. If she was hurting, he wanted to try to fix it. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer. He texted her. Still no answer. He waited outside of her room for ten minutes, impatient, and then when no one came by, he slipped a credit card into the lock and jimmied it. If she was in her room and ignoring him, the latch would be flipped and he wouldn’t be able to get in.

But a moment later, he was able to get in, and the door swung open. The room was empty. Marjorie wasn’t in.

Where the hell was she?

A twinge of worry cut through him, and he shut the door quickly again, then headed to the elevator.

She wasn’t in the lobby. He searched the gardens, and she wasn’t there, either. The restaurant was closed due to the late hour, and the bar was empty of all but a few booze hounds. He didn’t really think she’d be there—after that one bad evening, she hadn’t drunk a drop.

There was only one place left to check.

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