Almost Pretend Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

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But I can’t bring myself to say it.

I don’t know how to deal with this.

And I don’t know how to handle it when he turns back to me with a white dress shirt in hand, folded and clearly soft-worn enough that it’s been retired from everyday use.

He offers me the shirt at arm’s length. The storm in his eyes has gone flat, leaving nothing but his usual glacial ice.

“You can clean up in the bathroom. Turn left where the hall splits,” he says. “The guest bedroom is the door on the right.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the heart.

I have about sixty seconds at best to get away from him.

Forget the bathroom.

I wobble to my feet and reach for the shirt, clutching it against me for some cover. I don’t even have the presence of mind to go back for my dress, my purse, everything else I dropped.

I just stare down at my feet, wanting to scream at him.

We could have kept this casual, dammit.

At least he didn’t have to be cruel.

But all I can manage is a small, mortified “Thanks” before I brush past him and try to walk—not run—out of his bedroom.

I make it around the curve of the hallway before I break.

First the painful sniffle, the burning tears, and then I’m pelting away with a sob until I dive into the guest bedroom, shut the door, and fling myself down on the bed.

I don’t feel like getting dressed right now, so I just curl around the crumpled mess of his oversize shirt and bury my face in the pillow to muffle my cries.

Why the hell did I have to fall for a rhino dick like August Marshall?

I wish I wasn’t right about sleeping alone tonight.

Not like this.

But hey, there’s a bright side in this too.

Now I know for sure to never, ever get my hopes up.

XII

MORNING GLOOM

(AUGUST)

I am the worst human being alive.

I’m not sure I deserve to be called human anyway.

Filth.

That works just fine.

Absolute fucking gutter trash.

I slump onto my bed, staring at what Elle left behind when she fled the room.

No—fled from me.

I drove her away like the absolute blackhearted bastard I am.

I’d ask what the hell I was thinking—except I already know.

I wasn’t thinking at all.

I ravaged her as soon as she bumped into me and I saw the moonlight pouring over her skin, turning it to pale perfection, highlighting every irresistible curve.

She glowed so much she barely looked human, so radiant, her skin kissed with strawberry pink on her nipples and between her thighs and across her enticing lips.

I snapped.

Everything I’d been ignoring erupted out of me.

Elle met me halfway, yes.

I certainly didn’t take her by force, without her consent.

But the second the red sex haze lifted and I realized what I’d done, panic took over.

Every rotten fuckup with Charisma came flooding back. Every mistake I ever made. Every moment when I was selfish and thought of what I wanted and not what she needed.

I shut the fuck down.

I shut Elle out the same way I shut Charisma out once.

I smothered her warmth, her brightness, and even if she barely said a word, I know, goddammit.

I know I hurt her.

I force myself up, knowing I’ll have to face it tonight.

I have to stuff my ego in a box and apologize.

Call Rick to take her home, as I doubt she’ll want me to drive her anywhere. I won’t force her to stay here tonight for appearances when she’d undoubtedly like to be anywhere else.

I pick up her coat, her dress, her purse, and fold everything into a neat stack before taking it with me as I step out into the hall. But the moment I stop outside the guest room, I know.

I won’t be going in there tonight.

I can hear her now.

Crying like her heart’s been torn out and stomped with hooves.

My own heart twists violently.

You did that, you miserable fuck.

You did that to her, and you’re the last person she’ll ever want to see again.

I’ve never hated my malfunction—my disconnect with others—more than I do right now.

All I want is to comfort her, to make up for this bullshit somehow.

But I don’t know how that’s possible.

So all I do is touch my fingers lightly to the door, pretending I can somehow reach her through it.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

I leave her things next to the door where she can easily find them, whenever she’s ready.

Before retreating to my room, I peel off my clothes and settle into the chair next to one of the glass walls with a tumbler of bourbon and all the self-loathing I’ve earned a thousand times over.

I never should have sucked Elle Lark into my black hole of a life.

All I can ever do is devour the goodness in everyone around me and send them spinning away, broken.

I must have passed out in the chair.


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