Page 138 of The Bad Wedding Date

“The guy is a mess.” Dean chuckled.

If I’d had the energy to move or open my eyes, I’d have reached out and punched him square in the jaw.

“Leave him,” Wade ordered, close by.

“It’s been a week,” Dean pointed out.

“He needs more time.”

“When did he last wash?” Joey piped up. “It fucking stinks in here.”

“That’s the alcohol.” I could hear the smirk in Dean’s voice. “Gotta admit, I like seeing the boss like this. Makes him seem more human. Less god-like. He was starting to piss me off with his effortless perfection.” I thought I heard someone slap him, followed by his small grunt and grumble of annoyance.

“Dean, don’t make me put you on your arse,” Wade warned.

“Please do,” Joey chipped in.

“Fuck you, arseholes,” Dean bit back.

I tuned them and their squabbling out, my cheek pressed against the white cotton duvet of the suite in The Savoy. My head throbbed, the agony of another hangover making me feel like a steamroller had flattened me and left me for dead. But none of that compared to the feeling in my chest that I hadn’t been able to rid myself of since Charlotte walked away from me.

Charlotte.

I couldn’t get her out of my head.

If I’d known the last time that I fucked her would be the last time I ever would, I’d have stayed buried inside her forever.

The look on her face when she’d found out about Jonah had killed me.

I’d put that pain there. Me, the guy who begged for her trust and told her he’d never do anything to hurt her.

That’s the problem with lies. One is never enough. They snowball, trying to cover the tracks you’ve left until you can’t hide them anymore. Everyone can see them, and the damage they cause can ruin lives.

I deserved the pain.

I wanted her back so badly, my emotions were constantly battling back and forth, fighting the urge to go to her even though she’d warned me not to. I hadn’t respected her enough at the start of all this to give her what she needed—the whole truth—the least I could do now was respect her wishes. Even if those wishes made me want to rip the city apart piece by piece until she softened and took me back just to stop my destruction.

I’d always thought the need for revenge had been what kept me strong and focused.

Turns out that had fuck all on heartbreak.

The need to destroy everything around me had become too strong, I’d had to silence it with the only thing I could.

Alcohol.

I didn’t even like the stuff that much.

The men around me bickered back and forth. I hadn’t looked their way since they’d arrived to check on me, the same thing they’d done every day since I’d let Charlotte go. I hadn’t known where I was going after driving away. Not until I’d found myself in front of this suite with the key card in hand. I’d gone back to the beginning, trying to figure out how I could change the end.

I laid there, face down on the bed, still dressed in clothes from yesterday, feeling sorry for myself and nursing the hangover that tore through me like a destructive tornado, when someone grabbed my ankle and began to pull me to the edge. Before I could grab the sheets and stop myself, I fell to the floor with a thud before a boot to the side of my stomach rolled me onto my back until I was face-up, staring at the four men above me.

Ray had been the bastard to drag me from the bed. I could tell by the way he stood over me with his arms folded across his chest while the other three flanked him, staring at me like some kind of lab rat.

“Motherfuckers,” I groaned.

Ray dropped to his haunches, one hand hanging limply over his knee. “Either go and get your woman or let her go for good.”

The man hardly ever spoke, only choosing to when he had something important to say.

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