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“No. I really don’t.”
“But you do.”
“No.” Any hint of humour has vanished from her face. “Now, if you don’t mind.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands.
I back away, into the hall. “I’m sorry,” I call again, catching the door before it closes.
“Exactly what are you sorry for?”
“Being a drunken idiot?”
“Admitting is half the battle.” And then, as I let the doors slide together, she smiles.
A radiant, full-faced smile. It’s like the dim lights in the elevator were replaced with 150-watt bulbs.
And then the door closes, and she’s gone.
7
Cady
The elevator lurches upward and I laugh.
I didn’t need the delay in getting to bed, but Maximus Steele is funny. And sexy, even when he’s being a drunken idiot.
His words, not mine.
Considering how many drunk guys I’ve had to deal with in my life, that should be a turnoff, but something about his smile… the light of admiration in his eyes.
Not want, or need, or desire, but appreciation.
It’s nice.
The morning light is bright when I squint awake to the sound of—what is that noise? It takes me a moment to realize where I am.
The hotel. I stayed here last night after I left Noam’s room.
And now my phone is ringing to wake me up. A quick check shows it’s already after nine and that my assistant Tana is FaceTiming me.
I don’t hesitate before accepting. “I slept in,” I say groggily, flipping my hair away from my face and sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
Luckily, I pulled on the oversized T-shirt I slept in before my head hit the pillow so Tana wasn’t greeted with the sight of any nakedness.
“Were you with Noam last night?” Tana has fifteen years on me, and wonderful lines of experience on her face, as well as a cheerfulness that often keeps me sane. This morning, though, she looks every inch of those years, lines etched deeper, and the cheerful smile is missing.
Worry grips my gut. “I was. I left when he fell asleep.” Tana looks to the side and I know her husband Travis is with her. “What is it?”
“It’s Noam.” Tana pauses for an instant, flicking her gaze to Travis. “He died, Cady. I’m so sorry.”
“He… what?” There’s a roaring in my head like I’m standing too close to a subway train. I shake it to clear the noise. “What?”
“Room service found him earlier this morning. He didn’t answer his wake-up calls. It seems like he passed away in his sleep unless—”
“No.” It comes out more as a soft moan than a word. I rub my forehead with two fingers. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sorry, Cady.” Tana looks it too. Even though neither she or Travis ever met him, they knew how important Noam is to me.
Was. He was important because now he’s dead. Noam Tate has died and where does that leave me?
