Page 151 of Inflame

Once the penthouse is empty, I drag my feet into the guest room’s shower and let the cold water chill my body. I stay there with the water cascading down my shoulders until I feel numb. I dry myself off and toss on a pair of black workout pants and a gray T-shirt. I find Graham’s home gym and set the weight limits on the equipment. I start the surround sound to play my favorite metal music through the speakers and push myself through the circuit. I maintain a punishing rhythm until my body cannot take any more reps.

When I’m drenched in sweat and doubling over from exhaustion, I hit the shower again. I meander back into the bedroom and flop down on the bed. When the smell of sweet vanilla fills my nostrils, I throw myself off the sheets as if they turned into fire. I rip and tug until the entire bed is stripped of all the reminders of Claire. I toss the fabric into the laundry bin and settle on top of the bare mattress, too worn out to remake the bed.

I allow sleep to win. But it is the haunting images of Claire that trap me in my nightmare.

* * *

Right before the sun sets, I crack and give Claire a call to tell her I’m sorry. I click on her number and hear the sweet sound of her voice recording stating that she is unavailable to take my call. The words I want to say get stuck in my throat, so I just click end and toss my phone on the bed.

In reality, what is there to say? It’s not like I’ve changed my mind. I’m damaged on the inside. I want to blame Tara, but maybe it is really me. Maybe there is some part of me that allowed a woman into my life who was going to hurt me. I easily ignored some red flags early on with Tara. I painted her to be the picture of perfection in my head. I set such high expectations on what I wanted out of a relationship—a marriage—that maybe she was destined to fail. Cheating might have been her easy way out. It sure made me never want her again. Problem is, it is ruining me for every girl after her.

When things ended with Tara and the pain wore off, I had this overwhelming sense of relief that I dodged some kind of bullet that was heading straight for my bank account. With Claire, I don’t feel like I have dodged anything. The moment she walked out of the penthouse was the moment my heart bled for what could have been.

Claire deserves better than me. And as lousy as I feel right now, I’m pretty sure anyone else could fit that role.

My phone buzzes from the bed, and I snatch it up thinking it is Claire returning my call. I look at the caller ID and see that it is Tyler, my personal henchman and information seeker. I know he’s not calling to chitchat about the weather, so I brace myself for whatever news he will surely share.

“What’s up?”

“Figure this is redundant information but just wanted to let you know that Claire is at the mixer event for Entice at the mansion tonight and is working the crowd.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. “Really? You sure?” I completely forgot that an event was even scheduled for tonight. It’s not like I keep close tabs anymore on Entice happenings, since I have hired people to keep me in the loop when necessary.

“Yeah, I’m sure. There’s no mistaking a woman in red with a firecracker personality.”

“Fuck,” I groan.

She does love to wear bold colors. And she looks radiant when she does. Anger boils inside me at her not even giving herself twelve hours to let things settle between us.

“She is going to start a war here among the men pining after her.”

“Keep an eye on her until I can get there.”

“Okay, but hurry or get the bail money ready. There’s only so much I can do from the shadows.”

“I should be there in about forty-five minutes.”

I end the call and toss my head back to look at the ceiling. What the hell is she doing at a mixer event meant primarily to meet men and set up future dates? Is she trying to make me suffer or just hellbent on making a buck?

I take my third shower of the day, throw on a black suit, and take the stairs down to the parking garage. I have an energy running through me that I haven’t felt all day. The mansion that is rented for the escort mixer events is in the beautiful countryside, several miles outside of the city limits of Portland. With rolling hills and the most enchanting landscaping, it is a breathtaking venue. No wonder Angie and Graham are choosing to say their vows here.

I toss my keys to the valet and take the stairs two at a time. I nod to the doorman and make my way into the entryway, scanning the area for Claire. I find her at the bar, surrounded by other female escorts who are having a lively chat about something.

When Claire spots me, she takes a long sip from her beverage, eyes me up and down, and flares her nostrils. She looks ready to fight, and I brace myself for whatever it is she thinks will make herself feel better.

“Oh, yay me,” she mumbles, tossing back the last of her drink. “Listen up, ladies.” All eyes turn to her, as if she is the kingpin of the group, about to make some grand announcement. “We have another alpha asshole in our midst.”

“Claire…”

But she ignores my attempt to silence her. “Ladies, meet the one and only Nic Commitment-Phobe Hoffman. You know, our brothel-keeper. The man without emotions. The guy who hits ’em and quits ’em. The pimp with the golden dick.” She claps her hands loudly, aiming them in my direction as a tribute. “Take a bow, Nic. Take a bow.”

My eyes twitch as I take in the scene and listen to her rattle off her word vomit for all to hear. Her face looks puffy underneath her layers of heavy makeup, and I wonder if she has been crying. “Claire…”

She ignores my warning. “He may be the boss with some calm and collected manners, but this man will fuck the panties right off your pelvis. But as soon as it comes to showing any true emotion, this bad boy only knows one—fear. But nothing lasts forever. Everything has an expiration date and mine hit its deadline.” She signals for another drink, and I can already tell she has had one too many.

I grab Claire by the elbow and pull her away from the bar. I lead her to the back patio, despite her resistance and cursing.

“We need to talk,” I say calmly.

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