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I shove Jay with both hands, sending him teetering backwards into the club goers behind him. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“He’s a forty-three-year-old tech bro,” Jay replies, shrugging and nearly laughing at the notion. “What do you two even talk about? Or are you not talking?”
Jay knowing Gus’s exact age is a clear giveaway: He researched him. And like anyone who researches Gus, Jay failed to learn anything about him. To be honest, I still know so little. But what I do know is he’s brilliant and ambitious and surprisingly tender when you get him alone. More importantly, he just made a commitment to share more of himself with me—and in a matter of seconds, Jay derailed all our progress.
“Are you kidding me?” I demand, keeping my voice even and my cadence slow. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He pulls his face back with surprise. “Jules, come on. Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
Jay leans closer and says into my ear, “Don’t let him turn you into someone you’re not.”
“What the hell am I, Jay?” I demand, pushing him away again.
“You’re mine,” he answers, raising a shoulder as if I already knew. “We dance around it, but at the end of the day…”
My stomach drops. “You’re my best friend,” I clarify hastily as soon as I can get a word in. “We haven’t touched each other in over a year.”
“Because you keep pushing me away,” he stammers. “What is it? Why would you want him and not me?”
The hurt on his face tears at me, but I care about him too much to lie. There are a hundred reasons to pick Gus over any guy, but in this case? “He makes me feel desired,” I admit. “He listens to what I want, Jay.”
“And I don’t?” he questions. “Look, if Gus Winter gives you attention and obviously fake praise about how cute it is when you read about the stock market or whatever, fine. But don’t act like his feelings are special, Jules. Desired? He listens? Come on. He’s trying to fuck you. Don’t be naïve. Men will say anything to fuck you. You know it’s true.”
I don’t know how to respond. I’ve never felt so crushed. I want to explain how Gus promised he would try—prove to Jay he’s wrong about him. But right now, a promise is just words. I can’t throw away one of my oldest friendships based on the words of a man who doesn’t even believe in love.
“I’m going,” Jay announces when I don’t respond right away. “Fuck this night. I’ll see you back in the suite later.”
He leaves before I can even react. I’m left standing with my mouth agape, watching Jay—who may as well have pissed on my leg—shove into the crowd and disappear.
“Is this a joke?” I demand to no one in particular.
I know Jay well enough to know he wants me to follow him. Apparently he doesn’t know me well enough to realize I won’t.
“Damn it,” I blurt out before I turn and shove my way off the dancefloor.
“Julia,” Peter calls. He tries and fails to grab my arm, but I ignore him. If I hurry, maybe I can still catch Gus before he disappears on a private plane or a helicopter or a jet ski or a cloud of smoke or some other dramatic billionaire bullshit.
I finally find him by the hotel pool, ranting into the phone against his ear. His thick, muscular arm gestures wildly like he’s rattling off a list of demands to whoever is listening (Brent, if I had to guess). His posture screams fury—and I can’t deny, it looks hot on him.
“August,” I call out.
He looks over at me, surprised by my presence at first. In the dim light from the pool, I can only vaguely make out the shape of his features. Handsome—and pissed off as all hell.
“Why’d you run?”
Subtly, he ends his phone call with a shift of his thumb. “You do it all the time. Thought I’d see how it feels.”
Ouch. I know I deserve that. “How does it feel?” I ask, trying to keep the mood light. I am, after all, here to make amends.
“Like shit.” He grits out the words like they’re sharp on his tongue, like he doesn’t want to share them with me.
I decide to interpret his reluctance as a good thing—he recognizes that no matter how he fights it, he can’t stay away from me.
Loosening my expression, going for sultry, I close the gap between us and I rest my hands flat on his chest. His skin is warm through his shirt and his muscles flex against my palms when he breathes. “I know something we can do that would feel much better,” I murmur when my lips are by his ear.
He remains stiff and unresponsive. “Why am I here, Julia?”
