I take a long sip of my drink, feeling totally pathetic and useless. This is a mess, and I’m the one causing my own pain. In truth, Jemima didn’t do anything wrong because no one thought to take me literally. Ugh, I’ve fucked up. Meanwhile, Todd nods again.
“Well, let me ask you this. How old is this girl?”
“Twenty-three,” I sigh.
That makes my buddy jerk back in his chair.
“Twenty-three? Damn, that’s basically a virgin right there. I thought you were going to say thirty-five or something, and yeah, older broads are sometimes very experienced. Not that I don’t love it, but Zane my man, twenty-three is young! You’ve got to find her and apologize before burying yourself in that tight, slick pussy again. So what if she’s in her twenties already? She’s old enough to take it hard, and that’s the best part. Hell, if you don’t do something about it, I’m going to have Sanctum hook me up with her instead. What did you say her name was again? Jemima? Given your obsession with her, she’s probably the best fuck this side of the Mason Dixon line.”
I snarl. “Shut the fuck up.”
The handsome asshole merely chuckles and looks smug once again. “Don’t worry. I know the bro code. I was just trying to get a rise out of you so you’d realize what you need to do.”
Suddenly, I know my friend’s right. Why have I been such a fucking dunce? I stand up, knocking over my stool onto the grimy bar floor. “I need to go find her. Now.”
“Exactly!” he crows. “Glad you’re coming to your senses.”
I don’t even bother to say goodbye. Instead, I throw some cash on the bar and then basically make a beeline to the door. Where the fuck was Jemima staying again? Oh right.
“I need you to get me to the Hotel Villeneuve stat,” I bark as soon as a cab slows to pick me up. The driver steps on it, weaving in and out of traffic like a madman and nearly taking out a few pedestrians while he’s at it, but finally, we’re at the hotel and I triple the man’s fare before jumping out. Then I storm into the hotel, skidding to a halt in front of the reception desk.
“Jemima Kay,” I bark. “Where is she?”
The receptionist stares at me.
“Good evening, Mr. Cathcart,” she says in a measured tone. “I’m sorry, but you know I can’t give out guest information.”
“Do it,” I rasp, my eyes flashing with anger. “You know I’m a Sanctum VIP.”
She nods because the Hotel Villeneuve is one of Sanctum’s holdings, after all. “Room 430,” she says after a moment. The receptionist is about to say something more, but I’ve already run off to the stairs. I bolt up the metal railings, bursting onto the fourth floor like a madman. Then I find Room 430 and pound on the door, but no one answers. I try again, but it’s utter silence. Oh fuck. Has Jemima already left? Am I too late?
A voice sounds from behind me.
“Mr. Cathcart,” a maid greets, obviously surprised by my appearance. “Can I help you? Miss Kay has already left for the airport, as I’m sure you know. She’s been gone about twenty-minutes now.”
My heart sinks. Oh fuck, oh fuck. “Do you know which airport?”
The woman nods.
“JFK, I believe. If you rush, you might still be able to catch her.”
I swear under my breath. Traffic getting to the airport is ridiculous, but I have to try.
“Thank you,” I say to the maid before rushing downstairs and bolting out of the hotel like a man with his hair on fire. Then, I hop into another cab, and this time, the driver breaks every traffic law in existence to get me to JFK, but it still takes almost fifty minutes as I curse.
But the woman at the counter looks at me with mystification.
“I’m sorry, but that flight’s already left,” she says. “It took off ten minutes ago.”
I swear a blue streak, but then turn to her once more.
“A flight to Jackson Hole. Tonight. Any price.”
Within minutes, I’ve gotten a ticket and am being ushered into the first class lounge. But despite the luxury, my heart is heavy because I’m in pursuit of the woman I love, and only hope that I’m not too late to save our relationship.
12
Jemima
* * *
Tears stream from my eyes as I lie against Corrie’s shoulder. The world feels so hopeless and my friend knows as she rubs my back and whispers over and over that it’ll be okay.
“You’re fine, sweetie,” she soothes. “You’ll get over it.”
Yet I’m still angry, enraged, and humiliated at the way things turned out.
“He didn’t want me because I wasn’t a virgin!” I cry out for the hundredth time since I showed up at the ranch Corrie shares with Justin and Cameron. Thankfully, my brother is out right now because if Justin saw me like this, he’d flip out and take a plane to New York City to kick Zane’s ass. As tempting as it is, I don’t need my brother to end up in jail for me.