The Chase

  “Don’t hate me,” she says, “but…I really have to pee.”

  I grip her hand. “Nope. You can’t abandon me here with these people.”

  She giggles. “You say the word ‘people’ like it’s a disease.”

  “People are a disease,” I grumble.

  “You can survive without me for five minutes.” She kisses my cheek and then rubs her index finger over it, I suspect to wipe off the lipstick stain she left. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

  I watch in defeat as she saunters off. At the bar, I order a Sam Adams and a very efficient bartender in a white shirt and black tie hands me a bottle. “Thanks,” I tell her.

  I’ve barely taken a sip before Kamal appears. I’m surprised he didn’t leech on to me the moment Summer and I stepped off the dance floor.

  “That’s some dress your girlfriend’s wearing, Colin.” He swishes the tumbler of bourbon he’s holding. It’s not the first one he’s consumed tonight. I’ve seen him order at least three drinks since I got here, and who knows how many he ingested before that.

  I make a noncommittal gesture, a cross between a shrug and a hand flutter, because accepting a compliment on Summer’s behalf feels weird.

  “Who are you?”

  The question comes out of left field. I furrow my brow and search his expression, but I can’t decipher it. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is…” He throws back the rest of his drink and then slams the glass on the bar. “Another one,” he barks at the bartender.

  She flinches at his sharp tone. “Right away, sir.”

  “What I mean, Colin,” he continues, as if the woman hadn’t spoken, “is that I thought you were one of us.” He gestures to the other three job candidates—two males, one female. All college-aged like me. “Neil, Ahmed, Robin. Me. You. The outcasts who turned to video games because of people like the girl you showed up with tonight.”

  My shoulders stiffen.

  “All my life I’ve had to deal with those people. The pretty people.” He accepts his fresh drink and takes several deep swigs. “The jocks and the cheerleaders and the popular assholes who think they’re entitled to do whatever the fuck they want. They bully without consequences. They get everything handed to them on a silver platter. They float through life and expect everyone to step aside for them.”

  I set my untouched beer on the bar and speak in a measured tone. “I’ve never floated through anything. My mom’s an ESL teacher, and my dad is a shift supervisor at a power plant. They work their asses off, and so do I. I spent all my free time in high school drawing and painting and playing video games. And playing hockey,” I relent, even though I know it’s a dirty word to him. “I play hockey because I love it, and I’m good at it. Same way I’m good at game design,” I finish with a shrug.

  “You’ve got some real arrogance on you, kid.” A flash of steel enters his eyes.

  Summer chooses that unfortunate moment to return to the ballroom. She draws the attention of every person, male and female, as she struts across the shiny floor. She’s stunning and nobody can look away. Everyone wants to be a part of that beauty, even if it’s simply admiring her as she sashays past them.

  It’s her orbit.

  That damn orbit.

  Kamal slings back the rest of his drink. His disdain-heavy gaze never leaves Summer. “Look at her,” he mutters. “You think she’d be with you if you weren’t a jock? Bitches like her only want one thing, Colin.” He laughs coldly. “I bet if I snapped my fingers and told her I was interested, she’d be on my dick faster than you can say gold digger. Why would she waste her time on some low-rent college athlete when she can have a billionaire, right?”

  My lips thin. “You don’t know her.”

  He chuckles.

  Summer is halfway to us now. Her blonde hair catches the light of the huge crystal chandelier over our heads. Her diamond hairclip winks like a strobe with each step she takes.

  “Trust me, I know her. Lordy, lordy, do I know her. All I do is date women like her. They don’t give a shit about us, Colin. They’re gone the moment a sweeter deal comes along.”

  I could argue, but what’s the point? He’s already made his assumptions about me and Summer, about what it means to be an athlete, a nerd, a pretty girl.

  Summer reaches us, and she must glimpse something in my expression that worries her, because she takes my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Everything okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Kamal guffaws, before tapping the bar to signal the bartender. He smacks it again and again and again, like a bratty kid trying to get his mom’s attention. “Bourbon,” he snaps at the harried woman. He turns back to us. “So what’s your major?” he asks Summer.

  She blinks at the sudden change of topic. “Fashion—”

  He interrupts before she’s done speaking. “Of course it’s fashion.” Scorn drips from every word.

  “You got a problem with fashion?” she asks lightly, but I can tell from her rigid posture that she’s on guard. She manages a teasing laugh. “Because as far as I can tell, you sure do enjoy the company of models.”

  He doesn’t laugh back. “I see. Someone like me can’t date beautiful women? Is that what you’re insinuating?”

  “Not at all. And clearly you can date beautiful women, because you—”

  “They’re only with me for my money? Is that what you think?”

  “Of course not. I just—”

  “Of course you would think that,” he snaps. His cheeks are slowly reddening. “And guess what, you’re right. That is the only thing pretty bitches like you are after—money. You won’t be signing any prenups, will you, Summer? No, no, no, bitches like you need to be taken care of. You need to spend all my hard-earned cash.”

  I move closer to Summer in a protective gesture. “That’s enough,” I say in a low voice. He keeps throwing the word bitch around, and loudly. I suspect he’s talking about one specific woman—the girl from college who wouldn’t sign his prenuptial agreement. But I don’t give a shit if he had his heart broken by the Queen of fucking England. Nobody talks to or about Summer like that.

  Kamal isn’t intimidated by the menacing command. He laughs again. A high-pitched sound that grates on my nerves. “It’s enough when I say it’s enough.” He tosses back the last of his bourbon and then tries to place the empty tumbler on the bar. Except he’s about a foot away from it, because he’s drunk as a skunk and lacking all coordination. So he sets the glass down—on nothing.

  It crashes to the floor and shatters. Glass shards shoot in all directions, and I quickly pull Summer away from the mess. I look at the bartender. “Could you please call someone to come and—”

  “Oh, they’ll come!” Kamal hoots. “Someone always comes to clean up my messes. Wanna know why, Colin? Summer? Hazard a guess?” He starts cackling to himself. “Because I’m a billionaire! I’m a fucking god in the tech industry and I can buy and sell everyone in this fucking room! I—”

  “You’re drunk,” I coldly interrupt.

  “Oh, shut up, you dumb jock.” He’s so sloshed, he’s rocking on his feet, but when I reach out to try and steady him, he slaps my hand away. “Fuck off. I don’t need your help. And I don’t need you working for my company. You got that? The position’s been filled, Colin.” He chortles again. “Thank you for your interest.”

  Summer takes a menacing step toward him. “What’s the matter, Mr. Jain? You won’t hire Colin because, what? He plays hockey and is better-looking than you?”

  He takes a step back. Glass crunches beneath his expensive leather shoes. From the corner of my eye, I see several figures approaching. All around us, people are staring. Their curious gazes pierce into me. My spine won’t stop prickling.

  “Ms. Heyward, are you all right?” A tall, bulky man in a black suit and tie appears in front of us.

  I have no idea who he is, but Summer does. She gratefully touches his arm. “I’m fine, Diego. But there’s broken glass all o
ver the floor. Could you ask maintenance to send someone ASAP?”

  “Right away.” He flicks a wary look at Kamal.

  Kamal’s busy staring at Summer. “Heyward?” he echoes. He furrows and unfurrows his brow, repeatedly. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Watch your language, Mr. Jain,” barks Diego.

  “Who the fuck are you?” is the retort.

  “I’m the head of security at this hotel,” the beefy man replies, baring his teeth in the scariest smile I’ve ever seen. “The hotel that Ms. Heyward’s family happens to own. And I do believe it’s time for you to retire for the evening, Mr. Jain. Why don’t I have one of my associates escort you to your suite?”

  “Fuck you. I’m giving a fucking speech in ten fucking minutes.” He looks over at me and starts to laugh in loud, nasally snorts. “Well, good for you, Colin. Here I thought she was the gold digger, riding your big cock for your jock money, but you’re the gold digger, eh? Digging for gold in her heiress pussy.”

  Summer flinches.

  Diego steps forward.

  Me, I sadly shake my head and meet Kamal’s glazed eyes. “It’s a really depressing world you live in, man. This world where everybody’s a gold digger, where everybody’s using each other, or competing against each other. This world where two people can’t be together because they might love each other.” I chuckle darkly. “Honestly? I’m glad you’re not giving me the job. I’d rather be out on the street than work for someone like you. I don’t even want to know what kind of toxic working environment you create for your employees.”

  I think Kamal tries to keep arguing, but I tune him out. Besides, Diego and his “associates” are prompt in escorting the drunk and belligerent billionaire out of the Heather Ballroom. I don’t know what that means for the leukemia fundraising, but as much as I support the cause, I don’t care to stay a second longer at this stuffy, shitty event.

  In unspoken agreement, Summer and I leave the ballroom. I can tell she’s upset because her teeth are digging into her bottom lip, but she doesn’t say a word. Not a single word, at least not until we’re riding the private elevator up to the penthouse.

  The moment the doors ding open, Summer fixes me with a miserable look and says, “I’m breaking up with you.”

  29

  Fitz

  I gape at her slender back as she stalks out of the elevator and into the marble-laden foyer.

  Did she just say she’s breaking up with me?

  “Like hell you are!” I roar.

  Her stilettos echo loudly on the marble, and she stops to kick them off. I take advantage of the brief pause in her strides by charging forward to grab her arm. “Summer. What the hell.”

  She doesn’t answer. Shrugging my hand off, she sets her small silver clutch on the mahogany credenza. Then she removes the clip from her hair. Somehow the hairstyle stays intact, and I realize it’s being held up by a dozen tiny pins. She starts taking the pins out, one by one, as I watch in astonishment. She won’t even look at me.

  “What the hell is going on?” I demand.

  Finally, she meets my confused eyes. “I cost you that job.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “You didn’t get the job because of me,” she mutters. “Obviously that jackass had a bad experience with a pretty girl who turned him down.”

  “I’m sure he did, but I guarantee he also had a bad experience with some jock who beat him up. This had nothing to do with you.”

  “It had everything to do with me. You heard the way he was talking to me! The night would’ve gone smoothly if I hadn’t come with you. But that’s what happens when I go places, Fitz. I attract drama. I don’t mean to, but it just frigging happens.” She puffs out a bleak breath. “You hate drama and you hate attention and you just had an entire ballroom full of people staring at you because of me, because you were defending me. And the same thing happened at Malone’s last month.”

  I rub the bridge of my nose. What the hell is she talking about? I defended her—and myself—because Kamal was out of line. I say as much, but she stubbornly shakes her head

  “I’m not doing this anymore, okay, Fitz? You prefer to remain invisible. Well, look what happened down there—the most visible thing ever!”

  She’s right. When Kamal had been screaming and cackling and acting like an overall jackass, I’d felt as if there were a bright spotlight shining on me. I’d sensed the nosy stares and heard the hushed whispers.

  But when I told him off, I didn’t care that the whole room was watching and listening. I only cared that Kamal was being rude to Summer, and that was unacceptable to me.

  “Do you really want to talk about drama?” I ask her. “Because you’re being a drama queen right now, babe.”

  “I am not.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re overreacting. Going from zero to breakup without even talking about it.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. You don’t want to be in the spotlight. I invite it. Sometimes intentionally, but most times not.” She makes a frustrated noise. “That job was important to you.”

  “It was.” But you’re more important. I don’t say it out loud. Not because keeping my emotions under lock and key is a habit of mine, but because Summer is marching off again, heading for the winding staircase that leads upstairs. The penthouse has three floors—don’t get me started—and her bedroom is on the third.

  I hurry after her. “Stop,” I command.

  “No.” She keeps going.

  “You’re such a brat.”

  “You’re such a bully,” she retorts. “I want to be alone. We’re broken up.”

  “We’re not broken up!” I yell.

  Jesus, I don’t think I’ve raised my voice more than ten times my entire life, and now a couple of months with Summer and I’m on my way to yelling myself hoarse. She brings out a growly, primal side of me I hadn’t known existed until she showed up and started driving me batshit crazy.

  And…I frickin’ love it.

  I’ve spent years fighting so hard to avoid conflict. I let my folks spew their poison about each other because it’s easier than the arguments and guilt trips that ensue if I try to make them see the light. I avoid social situations because I don’t want any attention on me.

  I date chicks who are as introverted as I am, because then they don’t expect me to cut loose at parties or attend extravagant events like leukemia charity galas.

  I didn’t mind that existence. It’s been nice and comfortable. Conflict-free.

  But I never felt truly alive until Summer.

  I don’t want to be with a woman who hides in the shadows with me, because that enables me to keep hiding. And that’s what I’ve done for years—hidden pieces of myself from my parents, my friends, chicks, the world. I want someone who encourages me to step out of my comfort zone, and Summer is that someone.

  She drives me nuts. She does crazy shit like pull a girl’s hair at a bar for calling her a slut. She feels up half-naked football players in our living room. She does cute little ballet jumps when she’s making breakfast in our kitchen.

  And yes, she makes me lose my temper sometimes, but I make her lose hers.

  It’s part of the fun.

  “I’m going upstairs, Fitz. You can sleep on the couch or in Dean’s room or any of the other rooms. But not mine, because we’re broken up.”

  “Say that one more time. I fucking dare you.”

  She stops at the foot of the staircase and turns around. Her green eyes glitter with fortitude. “We’re brok—”

  I lunge forward.

  She throws up her hands. “Don’t you dare!”

  Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I grab her by the waist and heave her wriggling body over my shoulder, clamping a hand over her ass. “We’re going to sit down and talk about this,” I growl, spinning toward the living room.

  “There’s nothing to talk about! Put me down!” She manages to wrench herself free, her bare feet slapping the marble floor when they make con
tact with it.

  “Would you listen to me? We’re not breaking up. It’s not happening, Summer. I don’t give a shit about the job at Orcus Games. I give a shit about you. That bastard was rude to you. He was rude to both of us, and I refuse to work for someone who treats people with disrespect or behaves that way in public. I put him in his place, and if I had the choice, I’d do it all over again, you hear me? Because he was a jackass to you, and I love you.”

  Summer’s breath catches. “That’s…” She gulps. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.”

  “Well, it’s true. I love you. You’re my girlfriend—”

  “Was your girlfriend.”

  “Are.”

  “Was.”

  I wrap my arms around her waist and tug her against me. When she gasps, I know she feels the erection pressing into her belly. “You can argue till you’re blue in the face, but we both know we’re not breaking up.” My hand slides under her dress to caress her smooth thigh. “And we both know you love me too.”

  Her eyes narrow as she studies my face. “You’re different,”

  She’s right. I am. My patience is thin, and my nerves are shot. I’m still pissed at Kamal. Still pissed at Summer. Yet at the same time, I want to fuck her like I’ve never wanted to fuck her before.

  Groaning softly, I cup the warm heaven between her legs. When I encounter her bare pussy, I shudder with desire. “You weren’t wearing panties this entire time?” I croak.

  “No. This dress can’t handle panty lines. I’d never do that to Vera.”

  “Who’s Ve— You know what, forget it.”

  “Fitz.” She swallows again. “I’m sorry I cost you the job.”

  I shake my head at her. “You still don’t get it, do you? You didn’t cost me a job. Kamal Jain cost himself an employee. I’m a good designer. I’ll find something else, I promise. But I’ll never find another you.”

  Her lips part in wonder. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “I can be sweet when I want to.” My knuckles graze her clit. “But right now, I’m feeling dirty.” I slip a finger inside her. “Spread your legs so I can screw you against the wall.”