“Get your shit together, Jett.” I turn the sink on to splash some water on my face, almost laughing at how all the women I’ve wronged in my life have finally gotten their revenge.

She said no.

She said it’s too late.

I rip the towel off the rack and dry my face. Instead of throwing it on the floor for someone else to clean up, I fold it and lay it on the sink. Pulling my wallet from my side pocket, I leave a twenty-dollar bill on the extra folded towels.

Clearly, I need to rethink my tactics. Because she has to know no means absolutely nothing to me.

Christ, I’m completely thrown here. Flinging the door open, I take out my phone to track her. Good. She’s traveling back to her place. I text her.

ME: I can still taste you.

Three dots appear, then stop and start again, but nothing comes through, and I smile.

ME: Dinner tomorrow? I’m cooking.

I grin, knowing that will get a response.

RAVEN: Please don’t make me have to block you.

ME: Wouldn’t matter. I told you I’m not going anywhere. Might as well have dinner.

The dots appear again, then stop. Though I wait, apparently she’s not engaging anymore, so I walk out into the lobby.

This is just day one, Jett, I remind myself while I hand the key card to the woman at reception.

Give her time. The jury doesn’t always come back with a decision right away.

Chapter Thirty-Three

RAVEN

“Raven, wake up,” Cher sings as she plops down on my bed, crossing her legs and smiling at me.

“Oh God.” I groan and pull the pillow over my head.

Laughing, she grabs it. “Wake up. You have more groveling gifts.”

I’ve never seen Cher happier about Jett sending me all these gifts that mean nothing to me. They started arriving the day after the hotel visit. The first day he sent six platinum, sapphire, and diamond bangles. Exquisite, but I’ve left them in their turquoise box untouched.

Day two was boxes, and I do mean boxes of apparently the best dark chocolate in the world.

Day three, flowers. So many, I had the delivery man hand them out to shops on the street.

Day four, silk, lace, and leather lingerie.

Day five… well, day five was kind of unfair since he knows I have a weakness for shoes. It still pains me to look at all those boxes from Jimmy Choo, Prada, and Louboutin. I had to give them to Cher. Now I can’t go near her room because I see them, taunting me. Granted, my foot is a size six and Cher wears an eight. Whatever, she’s savvy; she can exchange them.

And here we are on day six. I almost don’t have the strength to look—it has to be amazing if Cher is singing.