Rich Player (The Dirty Thirty Pledge 3)

Her mouth drops open, incredulity covering her expression. Then she laughs. “Fuck this day. I just lost my business, my family, and it looks like now I have to lose you too. You know what, whatever. It just figures. This is my life. It’ll always be my life. Just when I think things are going fine, they fall apart. I should have expected it. Have a nice life, Glenn. You and your calendar deserve each other.”

Diamond grabs her bag off the counter and storms out, the door slamming behind her and echoing through the house. I wait for the relief to come, for the settling I felt when I came home and had my decision made. I wanted her to leave. I orchestrated it so that she would leave.

But the relief doesn’t come.

Instead it’s panic, and pain. Sharp pain in my chest that I haven’t felt in years. Since my dad—the fucker who never kept his promises—walked out and I realized that this time he wasn’t ever coming back.

There’s nothing in the world as painful as realizing that someone you love just walked out the door forever. I can’t breathe.

Oh shit.

No.

I push the thought away, but it’s there now, and it settles like I hoped the relief would when I heard the door slam. I’m in love with her. I love her. Diamond Collins. And I just sent her walking out the door.

I might be the biggest idiot on the planet.

Pulling out my phone, I dial Frankie. He answers on the first ring. “You got your shit figured out yet?”

I don’t know how he knew what I was calling for, but he does. “On a scale of one to ten,” I say, “exactly how big of a dumbass I am?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “That would be a fifteen.”

“I fucked up, Frankie.”

He laughs. “Could have seen that coming. You can fix it.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

I can almost see him shaking his head. “Think back over the last few months. If Wallace and I can fix our shit, so can you. She loves you, you love her. Those feelings don’t just evaporate. Get your ass off whatever chair you’re sitting on and go get your girl back.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

He sighs. “No, you’re pretty new at this. But you also didn’t deny that you love her. So figure out how to make it right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I clear my throat. “And Frankie?” There’s expectant silence on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. I hope you know that.”

“Wallace and I both do. We knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

They’ve had more faith in me this entire time than I’ve had in myself. That hangs in the air for a second before Frankie says, “I’m hanging up now. You have work to do.”

“Right.”

The line goes dead, and I have to think. She’s not going to answer me if I call her. I know that, but I try anyway. As the line rings, I wrack my brain. Where would she go? When she walked into the house she was already upset. She was talking about the salon and the building, but she doesn’t own it yet, so she wouldn’t go there.

Her phone goes to voicemail, and I end the call.

I have an idea. It might not work, but I have to try. Diamond is just as stubborn as I am, and if I’m going to get her to talk to me or even listen, I need to find her. But first I need to make a call.

Fuck.

I really am in love aren’t I?

I look up the number and start to dial.

16

Diamond

My heart breaks a little as I approach the building that was supposed to be my salon. I was sobbing in my car, not even able to go into my apartment yet, when the realtor called and told me that the owner of the building wanted to meet with me one more time.

It’s a barely-there sliver of hope. But it’s something. Because right now my heart is broken. I’ve been stomped on and I feel like there are little tiny pieces of me scattered on the road between here and Glenn’s house.

It feels like Alex all over again. I never saw it coming, and I never saw this weird fucking pledge coming either. Thirty women in thirty days because of something he decided to do as a teenager? It’s gross. And unnecessary. But who gives a fuck? If he wants to leave me and do that, then good for him.

I let the anger surround me and give me strength. I allow it to hold me up because I know no matter how this meeting goes, I’m going to be weeping on the floor of my apartment in about an hour.

The realtor is waiting for me at the door, smiling, and I send a smile back that I hope doesn’t look how I actually feel. “Hi.”