Page 42 of The Charmer's Gambit
I cringed at my red reflection. The flames dancing across my skin only seemed to get hotter during dinner, a result of both Will’s charm and my sunburn. I’d tried to cool down with a shower after we finished eating, but the water stung in all the wrong places.
After thirty excruciating minutes, I was clean and dressed in my usual yoga pants, but my nightshirt sat on the counter. I couldn’t bear the thought of covering my shoulders. Sleeping naked would be my preference in these conditions, but that seemed like trouble with Will so close.
I plucked a pale pink camisole from my suitcase. It was thin and meant to be worn underneath a blouse, but it would do. I pulled the light fabric over my head and didn’t bother with a bra, then gently combed my hair. Normally, I would dry it, but the cool strands felt heavenly against my burn.
A chirp sounded from my purse. Voicemail. I hadn’t checked my phone all day thanks to Will’s unexpected field trip. Work had probably called for an update since we were scheduled to leave for France tomorrow night. Thankfully, everything was ready—or at least, we were as prepared as we could be going intothe meetings. More research and discussion would be needed afterward. Janet had considered joining us, but after observing me last week during our final debriefings, she said her assistance wasn’t needed. It’d been the biggest compliment of my career so far.
Hopefully, she hadn’t called to say she’d changed her mind.
No.
It was worse.
Much, much worse.
My blood went from hot to cold as I scrolled over the abundance of messages and missed calls littering my screen. Two words jumped out at me over and over again.
France.
Bitch.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
Ryan had my airline itinerary.
And he was furious.
There was something about a wedding announcement and engagement pictures. All things Ineveragreed to and never would.
The messages blurred as I continued to run through them. Eighty-seven missed calls. All him. Nothing from work. They wouldn’t have been able to get through with his incessant redialing. When the phone started to ring in my hand, my eyes narrowed. So, what—now he could tell when I was touching the damn mobile? My limbs shook with a mix of fear and fury as his ringtone sang through the room.
I couldn’t believe this was happening again. He’d been like this right after the breakup. Constantly calling, dropping by, and checking up on me at all hours of the night. They were some of the most terrifying months of my life, but eventually he backed off. Not entirely, and never for long periods, but he gave me space. He started dating other women, something he enjoyedflaunting in my face. I only cared because I feared for them, but he was never with the women long enough toownthem. Not in the way he owned me.
The ringing stopped.
I waited.
And it began again.
He’d texted a few times throughout the week and called once, but I’d never replied. Mostly because he had messaged me when I was with Will but also because I didn’t feel that immediate pull to respond.
Something about being here had emboldened me enough to ignore Ryan. That had to be a first. I hadn’t even really thought about him all week. Will consumed my every moment, and I’d actually felt relaxed. Happy, even.
Seeing Ryan’s name flash on my screen was a shock to my system, but it lacked the usual punch. Instead, something else flared inside of me. A long-buried annoyance that I could no longer contain.
His ringtone started singing for the third time.
A scream tightened my throat, but my lips refused to let it loose.
No.
No more.
Maybe it was my week with Will that bolstered my confidence, or the terror ripping through my veins at the very real proof of Ryan spying on me. Or maybe I’d finally reached my breaking point and my mind had cracked. Or perhaps all of the above.
My finger hovered over the answer button.
What would he do? Waltz into Will’s house and beat me? Show up in France unannounced and drag me home to an impromptu wedding? He couldn’t wait for me at my apartment. I had no return ticket scheduled yet. Just a one-way booking toFrance. We would be staying at a Mershano Suites, of course. Ryan could follow me there, and then what? He was in the middle of gearing up for a Senate run. A public disturbance in another country wouldn’t bode well for his political career. Even insane, he had to know that.
