The Rivals

Well, I might’ve been twenty-nine now, and Scarlett might’ve been my best friend instead of my parents, but that was exactly how I felt walking back into the restaurant from the laundry room.

I’d been gone for over an hour, so I wasn’t even sure if Scarlett would still be at the bar. She was, though I was relieved to find her alone now.

Her back was to me as I approached, so I smoothed down my hair and did my best to act normal.

“I’m so sorry. That took way longer than I expected.”

Scarlett waved me off. “No problem. Our friends just left five minutes ago anyway. So I had good company.”

I settled into the empty seat next to her and relaxed a little. Okay, maybe Mom and Dad won’t suspect a thing. “You must be starving by now,” I said.

“I had a…” Scarlett trailed off and her eyes roamed my face. They suddenly widened. “Oh my God. You just shagged that tall glass of testosterone!”

I debated denying it, but felt my skin starting to flush, even as I went over my options.

Scarlett clapped her hands. “I almost went looking for you. That gorgeous man’s face was murderous. Now I’m relieved I didn’t, or I would’ve walked in on him putting that anger to good use.”

I covered my face with both hands and shook my head. “I think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind losing mine, too. Any chance your man has a pissed-off friend for me?” She smiled.

The bartender came over. “Can I get you another vodka and diet cranberry, Ms. Sterling?”

I was about to say yes. Alcohol sounded exactly like what I needed at the moment. But Scarlett responded before I could.

She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Sean, my love, any chance we could persuade you to slip us a bottle of the wine I’m drinking, a bottle of vodka, and one of those diet cranberries? I haven’t seen my best friend in a while, and I think we could both use a change into our pjs and some room service.”

Sean smiled and nodded. “I’ll do you one better. Why don’t you ladies head upstairs, and I’ll send the bottles along?”

Scarlett leaned across the bar and planted a kiss on Sean’s cheek, leaving behind a smear of her trademark red lipstick. “I love America. Thank you, darling.”

I thanked him and dug a fifty out of my purse. “Please put everything on my room.”

“Not necessary.” He shrugged. “The gentlemen left their tab open for you ladies. They said to make sure all of your drinks and any food you ordered were put on their bill.”

Well, now I just felt like shit. Nevertheless, Scarlett and I headed up to our rooms. She went to change in hers, and fifteen minutes later knocked at my door wearing Duck Dynasty footie pajamas.

I chuckled as she walked into my suite. “I’ll never understand how the woman who abhors television and walks around like she just stepped off the runway could be so obsessed with those pajamas.”

“You’re just jealous I can rock it.” Scarlett settled into the couch.

Room service had delivered a tray with a bottle of wine, two silver cocktail shakers filled with chilled drinks, an unopened bottle of Tito’s vodka, a full bottle of diet cranberry, and an assortment of nuts, pretzels, cheese, and crackers.

She grabbed a handful of cashews and tossed a few in her mouth before pouring a drink for each of us into glasses. “Tell me again why you weren’t living in one of your hotels in London? Because I can surely get used to this service. Especially if there’s a resident stud who takes care of the hotel’s and my pipes.”

I took my drink from the coffee table and sat down on the chair across from her. Tucking my legs beneath me, I sipped. “Trust me, that life sounds more glamorous than it is. Living in a hotel turns into a very lonely existence pretty quickly.”

“Oh? You weren’t looking very lonely when you walked into that restaurant. Seriously, Soph, Liam used to stay over at our house. I don’t recall you ever looking as properly fucked by that bore.”

I sighed. “I guess that’s because sex with Liam was never half as good as sex with Weston.”

Scarlett smiled. “I am over the moon for you. This is exactly what you needed.”

I arched an eyebrow. “To canoodle with a sworn enemy of my family while trying to come up with the winning bid that will allow me to force him out of any management of the hotel?”

“First off…canoodle? Now I know you’re American, but as far as I know, you are not over the age of seventy. So let’s give what’s going on the proper amount of respect, shall we? Shagging, fucking—I’ll even permit getting it on from that car-accident-waiting-to-happen of a show you Yankees loved, Jersey Shore. And secondly, it’s your grandfather’s ax to grind, not yours, correct? Did the angry Adonis ever do anything to you personally? Other than give you what I assume are spectacular orgasms?”