“He’s made a fool of both of us, William. Have you seen the tabloids? We’re a laughing stock,” I whisper. “How am I supposed to forgive him for that?”
I wipe a stray tear and smile sadly. “I’m not sure I like this relationship thing.”
“It fucking sucks. Badly.”
I giggle at the irony of our situation. “Did you ever imagine sitting here in Maui and having this conversation?”
He shakes his head. “Can’t say that I did.”
I giggle, despite my tears, and then some kind of sanity band breaks and we look at each other and both burst out laughing.
William puts his hands over his eyes. “This is the most fucking ridiculous situation I’ve ever heard of.”
I laugh harder. “I know.”
“Poor fucking Edward.” He chuckles.
We suddenly fall serious as we think of the anguish our brother will be going through over this. He’ll be having a conniption from the disgrace of it all.
“He knew heartbreak was imminent for me,” I say.
“I know he did.” He sighs sadly. “He was only trying to protect us both in his own fucked up way.”
“Maybe we should have listened when we had the chance.”
Once again, we fall silent.
“Well, Charlotte,” he says with renewed purpose. “There is only one thing to do in this situation.”
“Please.” I smirk. “Tell me what that is, because I have no idea.”
“Drink all the alcohol on the island.”
He raises his glass and I smile as I lift mine to meet his. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Bottoms up.”
*
The afternoon sun shines through my sheer drapes. I’m in a sleepy daze.
William wasn’t joking, and he and I did practically drink all of the alcohol on the island last night.
We’ve taken it very easy today. There’s been swimming, eating, and now an afternoon nap.
I’m past being upset. Now I’m angry.
My hotel phone rings and I frown.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hello, Miss Preston?” the concierge asks.
“Yes.”
“You have a visitor here in reception.”
“Who is it?”
“She says her name is Sheridan Myer.”
25
Charlotte
“I beg your pardon.” I sit up immediately. “What did you just say?”
“A Sheridan Myer is here to see you.”
My blood runs cold. What the hell does that bitch want?
“Please tell her that I’m not accepting visitors.”
“Just a moment.” She puts her hand over the phone, and I hear her relay my message in the background.
“What? Give me the phone.” Sheridan says before I hear her voice directed at me. “Listen, princess, I’ve flown a long way to come and see you, so you get your arse down here right now.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“Well, I’ve got plenty to say to you, and I’m not going home until I do.”
“What do you want?”
“Come downstairs, for Christ’s sake, and I’ll tell you.” She hangs up the phone before I can argue.
I slam the phone down in a fluster and stare at it for a few moments.
What the hell?
I run my hands through my hair and begin to pace as my nerves go into overdrive. What does she want? I can’t deal with her right now.
What if she’s been with Spencer this week and she’s here to brag about it?
I feel sick to my stomach.
The phone rings again and I stare at it before answering. “Hello?”
“Hello, it’s concierge again. Miss Sheridan wants to come up to your room.” My eyes widen, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I guess that would be less of a spectacle. God knows I’ve had enough of those this last week.
“Miss Preston, is that?”
“No. I’ll come down now.”
I don’t want that witch in my damn room. I despise her.
Another one of his hareem.
I get dressed into a white linen shirt and navy shorts. I quickly brush my teeth and put my hair back into a ponytail.
I look so juvenile compared to her glamorous style, but I clearly wasn’t thinking straight when I packed. I brought the most ridiculous clothes with me. Somehow, all of my winter clothes made it into the suitcase and nothing else. I even had to buy a swimming costume when I arrived. I guess that happens when you pack at two in the morning, while crying hysterically like a madwoman and suffering from a frozen heart.
With one last inhale and look at myself, I make my way out into the corridor. Anthony is waiting for me, forever my trusty, loyal companion who has never disappointed me. Of course, when William turned up last night, so did my security team.
“I’m going down to meet someone in the foyer,” I say as I walk past him.
“Who?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“A woman.” And before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “She’s one of Spencer’s old girlfriends. God knows what she’s doing here.”
His face falls. “Oh… I…” He shakes his head. “I strongly advise against it, Charlotte.”
“I’m only talking to her for five minutes.” I sigh. “If it looks like it isn’t going well, come and get me.”
“Is Spencer with her?”
My eyes widen. I hadn’t thought of that. But he must have told her where I was.
Damn it, is this an ambush?
Surely he couldn’t be so stupid.
Before I can second-guess my decision to talk to her, we jump in the lift and travel downstairs. The elevator doors eventually open and Sheridan comes into view with her back to me and Anthony. She’s wearing black Capri pants and a black fitted top.
Still a power outfit, and worse than that, still fucking amazing.
She turns to face me, and her eyes find mine. Unable to help it, she tilts her chin in disapproval.
She holds out her hand to me. “My name is Sheridan.”
“I know who you are.” I look at her blankly and walk past her, through the hotel, towards the bar. I hear her huffing behind me.
That was so rude of me not to shake her hand, but she can go to Hell. I hate this woman with a passion.
We get to the terrace and she gestures to a table. “Shall we sit here?”
“That depends. Are you going to drop to your knees and try and go down on me to get your own way?”
Her eyes hold mine. “Well, well.” She smirks, and I know I’ve surprised her. “You don’t have the right equipment for me to want my own way with you.” She pulls the chair out and takes a seat.
“What do you want?” I snap as I sit down.
She smiles and puts her hand up for the waitress, who immediately comes over. “I’ll have a Martini on the rocks.” She turns her attention to me. “What do you want?”
“Same. Whatever.” I’m too angry to string two words together.
“What type of Martini would you like, Miss?” The waiter asks me.
“I’ll have mine perfect and she’ll have hers dirty.”
Sheridan’s face falls for just a second before she throws her head back and laughs sharply.
“Oh, that’s a good one. And so fitting. I do actually prefer a dirty Martini.”
I roll my eyes, unimpressed. “Of course, you do.”
The waiter leaves us in peace, and I glare at her. Her long dark hair is down, and she has the perfect bone structure. She really is beautiful. “What do you want?” I ask.
“I want to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“Because someone that I love is hurting.”
“I bet you’ve been there to mop up his tears.”
She smirks and raises a brow. “I have, actually.”
Our eyes are locked and suddenly we are alone in the world, the sky is suddenly red with my rage, and she is my only target. “Of course, you wouldn’t miss the chance to race in like a knight in shining armour and save the day.”
A cold smile crosses her lips. “I’m more like Lady Godiva.”
Bitch.
Our drinks arrive, and I take a bit sip of mine. Ugh, I hate these things. I hate her, too, so I guess the drink is fitting.
“So, you flew all the way out here to tell me that you slept with Spencer this week?” I ask.
“No.” She reaches into her pocket. “I flew all the way here to give you this.” She holds out her hand and holds up a memory stick.
I frown as I stare at it. “What is it?”
“Well, while you’ve been over here playing the pathetic damsel in distress, and Spencer has been at his sickening pity party for one, someone around here has actually been using their fucking brain.”