Page 102 of The Invitation

Jude starts mildly shaking his head, refuting that.

“You sure?” Gary asks.

“Yes, I bumped into someone I know in the ladies’ and got talking.” I visibly wince. “Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry. Like I said, just checking you’re okay.”

“Have a great day on the course tomorrow, and thanks for tonight.”

“My pleasure, Amelia. See you Monday.”

I hang up and inhale when Jude’s front is quickly pushed up against my back. He reaches past me, takes my purse off the counter, and slips his hand around mine, leading me out of the bathroom and through Evelyn’s. I can feel my heart beating in my throat, my mind racing. Where’s my resolve gone? Where’s the disgust, the anger, the determination to avoid him?

The pull is too strong. I keep going back for more, and I’m terrified I always will.

We leave Evelyn’s, Jude leading me, his hold of my hand tight, and pass through the glass corridor back to the main hotel. I see Gary up ahead with the others.

“Jude,” I breathe, slowing, making our arms stretch between us. He looks back at me in question. “My bosses,” I say, and he checks, quickly diverting us down another corridor and up a different staircase.

When we make it to his apartment, he drops my phone on the couch, picks me up, and walks me to the kitchen space, sitting me on the counter and getting between my thighs.

Cupping my face, he pulls it down to his, but he doesn’t kiss me. I wrap my palms around his wrists. Wait for his words to make everything better. “I should have told you about Katherine.”

That doesn’t make everything better, but at least he’s owning his mistake. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was afraid it would put you off.”

“It does,” I say frankly. “I’m not interested in becoming part of a love triangle.”

“Well, on Sunday you weren’t interested in anything serious,” he says over a laugh. “So tell me, Amelia, what the fuck do you actually want?”

I blink at him, surprised, outraged. And now he’s being an arsehole? “You’re doing a stellar job of trying to fix this,” I snap, yanking my face from his hold and getting down from the counter. “Fuck you, Jude.” I can’t deal with these seesaw emotions. Mineorhis. Lust one second, rage the next, despair, calm, joy, anguish. This isn’t healthy, and it’s not what I want.

“Amelia,” he barks, making a grab for my arm. I dodge his lunge and retrieve my bag. “Oh, great, so now you walk away again. Brilliant. Very fucking reasonable of you.”

“Reasonable?” I cry, my voice high-pitched. “You’re fucking a married woman! Is it all a fucking game to you? Bending women to your will, brandishing your charm left and right. What’s wrong with you?”

I see it coming. The explosion. “Everything is fucking wrong with me!” he bellows, completely losing his shit. He swings around and smashes his fist into the wall, and I jump back, alarmed, as plaster crumbles around his balled hand. “Fuck!” He yanks it free and curses his way to the sink, shoving his scuffed knuckles under the cold tap.He takes a few deep breaths. Clenches his eyes closed. “I’m a fuckup, Amelia,” he says calmly. “A total fuckup, so, yes, the best thing you could do is leave and crack on with your life.”

I baulk at him. “That’s exactly what I was trying to do until you turned up tonight.”

“You were in my club,” he grates.

“And you were hammering on my best friend’s front door before that, so don’t you dare throw the blame for this shitshow my way.” I fling my arm toward the door, pointing. “You just led me up to your apartment with the promise of fixing it, and all you’ve done is make this fucking worse.” I underestimated his anger issues. His temper. He looks absolutely crazed as he shakes his hand and grabs a tea towel, drying it, his lip curling in contempt.I’m a fuckup, Amelia.

He’s not wrong, and he’s fucking me up too. My anger, the frustration. I feel out of control.

“You let me lead you up here, Amelia, because you wanted me to fuck you like you love me fucking you.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m already fucking there!” he yells as I storm out, slamming the door behind me, my face certainly every shade of furious. Stomping to the next set of doors that lead back into the hotel, the pressure in my head growing, I haul the door open.

And come face-to-face with Katherine.

“Oh,” I laugh, as she looks me up and down. “Well, this is fucking perfect.”

“Excuse me?” Indignant, she glances past me, and I turn to see Jude jogging this way, his face a picture of horror, fury, anxiousness.

---