Chapter 2

In the presidential suite at the top of the hotel, sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, almost blinding.

I rubbed my aching back and sat up from the rumpled bed.

The bathroom door swung open, and a cloud of steam billowed out.

Elliot had nothing on but a towel slung around his waist. Glistening droplets clung to his bare upper body.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, abs so sculpted they looked carved. Every line radiated young, raw vitality.

He toweled his hair as he walked toward me, his model-perfect face lit up with a carefree grin.

"Brenna, you're awake."

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in close with the damp heat still rolling off his skin. His voice was low and teasing.

"You really wore me out last night. My back's still killing me."

I looked at his smug, self-satisfied face, but my mind kept drifting to Lucas.

For the past three years, Lucas had always been perfunctory with me in bed.

He used to say I was like a dead fish, that I had none of Mara's charm.

Turns out, when a man doesn't love you, even breathing is a sin.

And now, the pleasure I'd paid for felt ten thousand times more real than that hollow marriage ever did.

I pressed my hand against Elliot's chest as he leaned in, pushing him back.

"Enough, Elliot. It was a transaction, nothing more. I already sent your overnight fee. Save the sweet talk."

I threw off the covers to get up, my tone slipping back to its usual cool detachment.

The grin on Elliot's face froze for a split second, then he stuck right back to me like a piece of taffy that wouldn't let go.

One long arm snaked around my waist from behind.

His chin nestled into the curve of my neck, his soft hair tickling my skin.

"Brenna, bringing up money is such a mood killer."

He half-complained, half-teased, his warm breath fanning across my skin.

"That guy is terrible in bed, and he didn't even care if you lived or died. When are you going to divorce him?"

My hands paused.

I'd had the divorce papers drawn up ages ago, but Lucas kept dodging and refusing to sign.

Still, I had no intention of sharing that with a nightclub escort.

He was too young, too full of energy, and the possessiveness in his eyes was too intense.

I'd just clawed my way out of one quagmire. I wasn't about to stumble into another.

"We'll see." I shrugged him off, prying his arms loose.

"Wait for what? For him to come around?" Elliot's voice turned a few degrees colder.

"None of your business."

I gathered my clothes from the floor and dressed, piece by piece.

Just as I fastened the last button of my coat, the phone on the nightstand exploded with vibrations.

Lucas's name flashed across the screen.

Elliot glanced at the screen, let out a scoff, then reached over and hit the answer button. He put it on speaker.

"Brenna! Where are you!"

Lucas's hysterical screaming blasted through the phone, underscored by the shrill crash of shattering glass.

"You didn't come home last night! Are you with that pretty boy!"

I frowned and was about to hang up when Elliot leaned toward the microphone.

"Mr. Grant, all that yelling first thing in the morning. You'll wear yourself out."

Elliot deliberately drew out his words, his voice dripping with provocation.

"Brenna was exhausted last night. She needs her rest. Could you not call and ruin the mood?"

Dead silence on the other end.

Then came the sound of more things being smashed, even more violently than before.

"Brenna! Say something! What's the point of letting him answer your phone!"

Lucas's voice had gone shrill and cracked, like a man completely unhinged.

"Lucas, stop losing it." I took the phone, my voice flat as still water. "The divorce papers have been sent to your office. Sign them unless you want to be humiliated in court."

"No! I won't, not even if it kills me!" He was gasping for air, a tremor creeping into his voice.

"Brenna, please come home. I changed the gate code back to your birthday. I'm not going to the office today. I'll be here waiting for you..."

"Suit yourself."

I ended the call without a moment's hesitation and blocked his number.

I turned to find Elliot watching me from the headboard, a faint, unreadable smile on his face.

"Cold as ice, aren't you, Brenna."

"Still not as cold as you men." I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.