The VIP Doubles Down
Page 86

 Nancy Herkness

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Of course, Gavin went to his fancy club when he wanted to drown his sorrows, so privacy must not be a priority for him.
As the Bentley turned into Gavin’s long driveway, Allie forced herself to breathe slowly in and out while she formulated a plan. She would have to move fast, because Gavin was going to notice she was missing from the ball at some point. Maybe he wouldn’t care enough to want to confront her, but she couldn’t take that chance. She was still gluing herself back together after Troy had shattered her. If she had to face Gavin, the pieces might crack apart again.
The car stopped under the portico, and Allie shoved open the door, clapping her hand over her mouth in a pretense of nausea so she could dash past the housekeeper standing at the front door and run up the sweeping staircase.
Locking the bedroom door behind her, Allie breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Pie still curled up on the cashmere sweater Gavin had dropped on a chair. At least she wouldn’t have to search nine hundred rooms to find her cat.
She stripped off her beautiful dress, laying it carefully on the bed. Unclasping the borrowed necklace and earrings, she arranged them and the ring on top of the dress so Gavin could find them easily. She gave a quavering laugh at the sight of her bare, sandy feet. “Just like Cinderella.”
Then she whirled into action, throwing on jeans, a sweater, and boots, before she shoved all her other belongings into her duffel bag. And there was Pie’s cat carrier, neatly tucked into a corner of the closet. Bless you, Ludmilla. Allie stroked Pie to waken the little cat before she picked her up and put her in the case.
Now she had to think of a reason why Jaros should drive her back to New York City tonight. Someone had died. She needed to go to her own doctor. A friend was suicidal.
The cloud of misery was fogging her brain too much to come up with anything convincing, so she decided to pretend she was a rich person and just tell Jaros he had to drive her home. After all, she would never see him or Ludmilla again. The thought made more tears leak down her cheeks, and she swiped her sleeve across her face before picking up the duffel and Pie and heading for the bedroom door.
She got to the bottom of the stairs before the front door crashed open and Gavin stalked in. She almost dropped Pie’s case, because the sight of him looking magnificent in his tux sent agony ripping through her. She would never again smooth back his thick, gleaming hair or feel the seduction of his lips against hers.
“I wouldn’t have thought you were a coward,” he said, taking in her luggage with a scornful glance.
“I would have thought you’d trust me,” she said, tightening her grip on the handle of the cat carrier as she fought the tide of sadness flooding through her. “Just let me leave.”
He crossed his arms and stayed in front of the door. “I did trust you. That was my mistake.”
“You don’t know how to trust. You didn’t stop for even one second to think that maybe I hadn’t revealed your secret. You told me you didn’t want to lose me, and then you tried and convicted me without any hesitation.” Pie yowled, and Allie realized she’d been jerking the case back and forth as she talked. “Now you’ve even upset my cat, so get out of my way.”
She thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but he said, “Are you planning to walk back to the city?”
“I guess billionaires don’t know about Uber.”
The rigidity went out of his body, and he ran one hand through his hair. “Jaros will take you, if you really want to go.”
“I do.” Except that she would never see him again, and that was shredding her heart into tiny pieces.
“Tell me one thing,” he said. “If not you, then who?”
Hearing him actually say it felt like a mule kick to her gut. The tears overflowed. “Figure it out yourself,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’ll be outside waiting for Jaros.”
She walked straight at him, feeling a tiny spurt of triumph when he moved out of her way.
“Allie,” he said, the edge in his voice blunted almost to a plea.
She kept walking, her head held high, hitching the duffel onto her shoulder. She paused on the threshold to say over her shoulder, “Tell Jaros to hurry. I don’t want Pie catching cold.”
Then she put all her emotions into slamming the door shut right in Gavin’s gorgeous, heart-wrecking face.
 
Gavin jumped as the door crashed closed. He wouldn’t have pegged Allie as a door slammer. But then he wouldn’t have pegged her as an opportunist, either. Or such a talented actress, using righteous anger to deflect his accusations.
He walked to a control panel and hit the intercom button. “Jaros, Allie needs to go back to the city right away. She’s waiting at the front door.” And cold as hell, he hoped.
“Yes, Mr. Gavin.” He could hear the bafflement in the chauffeur’s voice, but the man would never question Gavin’s orders.
He turned off the intercom and rubbed his hand over his face. He could sure pick ’em. First, the ambitious Irene. Now the . . . the . . . He tried to find the right adjective to describe Allie’s perfidy, but all he could come up with was warm, generous, sassy, and caring. And sexy, but opportunists could be sexy. In fact, it undoubtedly helped them in their schemes.
He needed another drink. Heading for the bar in his downstairs den, he felt the fury he’d worked up drain away, leaving a hollow misery in its wake. He poured himself a bourbon and walked to the window to stare out into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he could just see the foam edges of the surf. He pushed open the window to hear the ceaseless roar and crash on the beach. But the sound brought him none of the usual comfort.
All he felt was cold, chilled to his core. Guilt hacked at him for his hope that Allie was feeling it, too. He banged the window closed and tossed back the rest of his bourbon before going for a refill.
He threw himself into a leather armchair but stood up again to pace the room.
It took every ounce of his willpower not to race to the front door and drag Allie back into his house. Without her, the walls seemed to echo with loneliness.
“Damn it!” He knocked into a small table and sent it crashing onto the floor, its collection of knickknacks shattering. He’d had enough to drink that his balance was going. Still he walked, because what did it matter if he broke every object in the room? He had the money to replace them all.