BooksBarbecue
Back First Comes Love
Chapters (92)
  1. First
  2. Love Connection
  3. Zero
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. One Month Later
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Six Months Later
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. Twenty-two
  28. Twenty-three
  29. Twenty-four
  30. Six Months Later
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. I Have Never
  41. One
  42. Two
  43. Three
  44. Four
  45. Five
  46. Six
  47. Seven
  48. Eight
  49. Nine
  50. Ten
  51. Eleven
  52. Twelve
  53. Thirteen
  54. Fourteen
  55. Fifteen
  56. Sixteen
  57. Seventeen
  58. Eighteen
  59. Nineteen
  60. Twenty
  61. Twenty-one
  62. Twenty-two
  63. A Christmas Date
  64. One
  65. Two
  66. Three
  67. Four
  68. Five
  69. Six
  70. Seven
  71. Eight
  72. Nine
  73. Ten
  74. Eleven
  75. Twelve
  76. Thirteen
  77. Fourteen
  78. Fifteen
  79. Sixteen
  80. Seventeen
  81. Eighteen
  82. Nineteen
  83. Twenty
  84. Twenty-one
  85. Twenty-two
  86. Note from the Author
  87. Sneak Peek – To the Stars and Back
  88. Two
  89. Three
  90. Four
  91. Also by Camilla Isley
  92. About the Author

I can’t hide my disappointment, so I look away. Either he’s a better actor than Christian Slade, or the electricity of the night was all inside my head. It wasn’t all inside my head.

“N-nothing.” I flutter my hands in the air. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Now his expression is closer to pity.

Mercifully, at that moment a server pushing a cart stops next to me and asks, “Is the champagne for this room?”

“Yes,” Aurora says, opening the door wider.

The waiter pushes the cart inside and I seize the opportunity to escape. “I’ll leave you to your… uh… thing.” Why can’t I stop my hands from fluttering? “Good night.”

I don’t wait for a reply. All I can say for myself is that I manage not to run. I retrace my steps to my room, insert the card in its slot with trembling hands, and rush inside. Resting my back against the door, I take a few deep breaths that quickly turn into heavy sobs.

How could I be so stupid? How could I misread the signals so badly?

I thought Richard and I had shared a moment, but clearly, all the boss cares about is sharing a bed with Aurora Vanderbilt. But I’m not crazy. Sparks happened, and it must’ve scared the boss so much he wanted to kill this new connection in cold blood.

Maybe.

No matter how much I try to rationalize Richard’s behavior, it still sucks. And no justification will change the fact that he’s spending the night in a hotel room with Aurora Vanderbilt. True, I’m not his girlfriend so it’s not like he’s cheating on me.

Feels that way all the same.

A glob of bile rises to my throat. I might throw up. In the bathroom, I splash my face with fresh water, not caring that it’ll send the makeup streaming down my cheeks. I dry my hands and unzip the dress on my own. So much for the sexy fantasies. When the gown reaches the ground, I kick it away from my legs, abandoning it in a puddle on the bathroom floor. Back in the main room, I fling myself onto the bed and cry into a pillow until I fall asleep.

***

I wake up early after a restless night spent tossing and turning over nightmares of Aurora and Richard rolling in bed. A mix of all the fantasies I’ve had about Richard played before my eyes. Only the woman in the dream—nightmare—wasn’t me.

I throw the blankets away, and after carefully washing my face, I launch myself into my running ritual. Energizing playlist, on. Fit watch, on. I-can-run-my-sorrow-to-death plan, so on.