Page 92 of Inflame

Despite my voice being bubbly and my expression being of joy, I can already tell that Angie knows it is a facade. Luckily for me, she is kind enough to let me hide behind the lies and the bruises on my arms while I recover from the past twenty-four hours of trauma.

The driver merges onto the busy street and takes us to the Wynn. The hotel is a beautiful architecturally attractive structure. I can’t help but stare at the smooth curve of the design and wonder how much it cost to construct.

The driver drops us off at the front, and we make our way into the lobby. Graham and Nic walk up ahead, talking quietly to themselves, as Angie and I take up the rear and do the same.

Angie holds my hand for comfort, looking at me with concern. “I don’t need to bombard you with questions right now, but just let me ask one. Are you okay?”

“I will be. Things with me and Ethan are less than stellar. He has been treating me like a burden instead of like a girlfriend.”

“I am so sorry,” she says, pulling me closer for a hug. She is careful where she places her pressure, and I know she knows that I’ve been manhandled.

Her embrace is welcomed and so needed. I squeeze her tighter and say a silent thank you that the guys seem to be deliberately ignoring us so we can have this moment.

“I’m just scared,” I stutter.

“Scared of what?”

“The unknown…”

“Oh, Claire, you are so strong. Whatever gets thrown your way, you will handle it. You always do. And you never have to do anything alone. I’m here for you. Always. Nothing will change that.”

“Thanks for being such a good friend. I really didn’t want to have this hiccup ruin the trip.”

“Nothing is ruined, Claire. I’m having a fabulous time, and I just hope that you can silence your mind to enjoy these last moments here.”

I nod. She’s so right. “I can do that.”

We enter the conservatory. Like at the Bellagio, the display is breathtaking. I marvel at how the intricate designs and arrangements of live plants make the space feel enchanted. Otherworldly. Meandering through the earthy village has a calming effect on me. I am instantly at peace.

When you grow up with a mom who is too busy for you and a dad who isn’t really your dad, it is easy to miss the developmental milestones that help with the formation of self-worth. Even though I outwardly express confidence and am an extrovert to most onlookers, I have an underdeveloped—dare I say damaged—sense of self.

I lack the ability to set boundaries and often let myself get walked on by others. Yeah, I am bold and a bit wild. But when it comes to those close to me, I often rely on their approval and how they treat me as my way of knowing if I am worthy of love.

The world may view me as a strong, independent woman by how I dress and how I act. However, deep down, I am just looking for acceptance. And when I don’t get it, I close in on myself and internalize the negativity as something that is flawed inside of me.

Nic flutters back, switching places with Angie, while we walk. I should be pissed at him more than what I am. Furious, even. But he is right in the fact that while he offered a scenario, it was Ethan that ultimately accepted it. At this moment, I wish I could hate Ethan more than I hate myself for going through with it. I let my boyfriend put me in a situation that I could easily have walked out of but chose to stay. It is that fact that lets me know that I have a lot of soul searching to do and a new vision board may be born from the character development I hope to do.

If I fear change, I fear growth.

26

NIC

The adrenaline running through me right now is causing my feet to walk faster into the Bellagio. I don’t have much time until I need to be back at the airport where the others are shopping before the flight, but I refuse to leave the state of Nevada until Ethan Maxwell hears me out. And if I have to speak with my fists, so be it.

Seeing Claire looking so vulnerable and bruised this morning was my undoing, and it put a direct target on her bastard boyfriend’s back. She may not be able to fight back. But I will.

And I’ll enjoy every fucking second of it.

I know he’s here in the building because I have a tracker on him and eyes on his schedule. If all of my information aligned, he should be back in his room, which is an added bonus for privacy.

When I make it to his floor, I find the housekeeper a few rooms down.

“Excuse me,” I say politely, pulling out a handful of one-hundred-dollar bills. “Can you please open my door? I forgot my key.”

The woman nods, following me to the room that I predict will need some extra cleanup when I’m through. So, I hand over a few more bills—just in case.

She grants me access, and I quickly shut and deadbolt the door behind me.

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