“You blind buffoon,” Ash said to himself. “Everything makes sense. Why she didn’t approach you after that night on the island. Why she tried to make you jealous with that other man. Why she was so eager to take you back. Why she baited you to chase her. Why her best fucking friend was completely okay with you whisking her away at the club!”
He picked up a notepad on his bedside table and threw it against the wall.
“Why did you stray from the formula?” he asked with a whisper.
Ash sank to his bed and raked his hands through his hair. Mind-numbing tears brewed behind his eyes. His hands trembled against his scalp. This was why the formula existed. This was why Ash led the kind of life he did. Short and meaningless romances with no connection after the first night. Women couldn't be trusted, but that didn’t mean Ash couldn't get his dick wet. He could get his release, have a nice warm body next to him for a night, and then bypass all the fucking deception waiting for him at the other end.
This was why he started living his life the way he had, and then he had to go and fucking ruin it. With his bullshit expectations and his bullshit romances and his bullshit ideology that there was that one woman out there for him. That one women that made all the meaningless shit in life worth it. The one woman that topped the money. That topped the bungalow. That topped the island or his family or his private jets. For years, he’d fed himself on a lie. A lie that, when the time was right, one woman would come sweeping into his world. Who would want his romance instead of his wallet. Who would want his kisses instead of his presents. Who would want his body instead of his fucking credit card!
He thought that woman was Kallie, so his guard went down.
And then she struck like the snake she was.
“Never again,” Ash muttered to himself.
And he was serious. Women couldn't be trusted, so he couldn't let another one get close to him ever again.
Ash grabbed his phone and dragged himself into the kitchen. He picked up the bottle of wine his mother left sitting aimlessly on the damn counter and tipped it up to his lips. He grabbed another one from the cabinet and quickly uncorked it, then sat at the breakfast nook in his kitchen. One of the few fucking places in his apartment Kallie hadn’t touched. He opened his phone and flipped through all his social media. Read every single tweet he’d been tagged in. Pulled up every single article that featured James and his brave testimony to finally come forward and expose this rampant sect of women who didn’t give a shit about anyone else other than themselves.
And he poured the wine down his throat.
His phone rang and Jeremy’s name popped up on the screen. Great. What the fuck did he want? Ash ignored the phone call, but the call was quickly returned. So he downed the last of his second bottle of wine before picking it up.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Okay. You’re going to come out tonight and shake this off,” Jeremy said.
“Nope. No thanks,” I said.
“I’ve got a VIP box with your name on it, a waitress who is more than ready to serve you anything you want, and a specia
l scotch I had flown in for a special occasion.”
“Oh, so this is special?” I asked.
“No, but it’s needed. Come out to the damn club, Ash. Shake this shit off and show her it doesn’t affect you.”
“Didn’t you bone her best friend?” I asked.
“That’s not important. The point is, you need to get out. So come out.”
Ash looked at the two empty bottles of wine lying sideways on the table. What was he going to do if he didn’t go out? Get drunk on all his expensive wine? At least if he went to the club, he could drown his sorrows in a wonderful scotch and have a nice woman keep him company for the evening. And that sounded like a fucking wonderful deal compared to the one he’d just been saddled with.
Maybe she’d have big tits and thick thighs to wrap around his head later.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll come up.”
Ash took a warm shower, allowing the alcohol to seep farther into his veins. He put on his best suit, all black for the occasion. He shined his shoes and gelled his hair back a bit, then flashed himself a smile in the mirror.
He looked like an idiot.
Jeremy guided him up to the VIP glass house in the corner and he had a full view of the club below him. He hated shit like this, but tonight? He was glad to be away from all of them. He sank down onto the couch, his legs spread wide and stretched out. He listened to the music as it thumped away, but soon the sound of a voice being cleared caught his attention.
“Mr. Worthington?”
He panned his eyes over and came into contact with a very striking woman. She was in a tight-ass skirt and thigh-high boots. Her tits were spilling out of the top of her shirt and her thick black hair was pulled into a high bun. She was holding a tray with a wonderful glass of scotch on it, and the smile on her face was gleaming. He grinned at her and took the drink before patting the couch next to him, and she looked almost hesitant.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t bite.”