The Billionaire's Forgotten Fiancée

“Go. Please,” Ginger said to the driver. She could hear Vanessa calling to her in the background, asking her to wait.

He started to pull away. “Where to?”

She hesitated, then gave him directions to Debbie’s condo. She didn’t want to be alone right now.

* * *

Shane ended up wandering into a hotel several blocks away from Éternité. He got himself a suite and a bottle of good scotch.

The amber liquor soothed his raw throat. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the armchair. It was too bad he didn’t have a really good vice to fall back on when he felt like shit. Even without his memory, he was certain he would’ve indulged out of habit, just like the way he’d known exactly what do with his cameras.

He wished he could tell Dane he was a lying sack of shit, but Vanessa… No, she wouldn’t have lied. She was in the Family group, and there hadn’t been any notes about her being a bitch. Furthermore, she seemed like a very straight-from-the-hip type of woman who wouldn’t feel the need to lie. If she didn’t like someone, she’d just say so.

Pour the scotch into a glass. Drink. Pour another. Drink…

Shane scowled. It was stupidly inefficient.

He took the bottle directly to his lips. Maybe he shouldn’t hold Ginger dating some other guy against her. She’d thought she wasn’t engaged anymore. He’d dated too, and he refused to be a hypocrite…even if he wanted to be when it came to this particular point.

But hadn’t she had a chance to tell him about the other man? She shouldn’t have done what she did with Shane if she was seeing somebody.

Maybe she couldn’t resist you. You were just too good compared to her current boyfriend.

Shane pressed the heel of his palm against his eyebrow. Wishful thinking.

His parents didn’t sleep around because other people were better in bed. They did it because it was who they were. He took a big swallow of the scotch. Wasn’t there a saying about men marrying their mother?

He lay down on the bed with the bottle. Thinking… He shook his head. Who the hell had decided thinking was a good thing? He didn’t want to think. He just wanted to sleep. And go back to the moment in the hospital when he’d just woken up, this time without his ID. And be a John Doe nobody could find.

* * *

“You don’t have to look so glum,” Shane said.

“The word you’re looking for is grim,” Dane said, nursing his scotch.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“For what reason?”

Shane shook his head. “Didn’t you hear me? Ginger and I got engaged.”

“That warrants my deepest and sincerest condolences.”

“You know what? You’re just an asshole. I’m actually going to make a contact group called Asshole and put you in there. Only you.” Shane pulled out his phone and carried out his threat. His brother deserved it.

A faint smile flitted over Dane’s cool face. “You think it’s going to be different?”

He didn’t have to clarify. “Hell yeah. What Ginger and I have is nothing like mom and dad’s relationship.”

“They weren’t always like this. At one point, they were in love.”

Shane wrinkled his nose. His brother was awfully talkative that evening. Must be the liquor. “What do you know about love that doesn’t involve scotch?”

“More than you, little pup. They were in love…or very good at faking it. It’s too bad they stopped making the effort around the time you were born.” Dane’s eyebrows pinched briefly. “You could’ve had a better toddlerhood, if nothing else.”

Shane laughed, uncomfortable with the conversation. It was too deep and emotional f

or his brother. “Jeez, man. How much have you drunk?”