Inarticulate (16 page)

S
avannah had walked
the Seattle streets for hours, without a coat, or common sense to notice she was numb to the freezing temperature. She was destined for hypothermia and, lucky her, that outcome had a silver lining because it was the ideal excuse to go home without admitting to the disaster she’d created.

She was a failure. A spectacular, highly accomplished failure who didn’t want to admit her heart hurt more than her pride. But it did. The pound in her chest was rampant, the heat in her cheeks announcing her humiliation to the world.

Her feet pounded the pavement until midday crept into late afternoon. Solace was nowhere to be found. Neither was understanding. She didn’t know why her emotions were a wrangled mess over something far more trivial than her broken relationship with Spencer. It had to be Penny—her conniving smile, her victorious taunts.

When she returned, Kelly and Grant were in the lobby, asking questions as she passed. No matter how scripted her reply should’ve been from the hours spent reflecting, she mumbled incoherently and continued walking into the seclusion of the elevator.

There was no peace to be found in her room. She’d kicked off her shoes, ignored the landline phone as it wailed its incessant call, and packed her belongings. One by one she placed everything into her suitcase—her beauty products, her clothes, her laptop.

The few remaining items she left accessible were her toothbrush, pajamas, and the box of lingerie—that stupid gift. She couldn’t bring herself to look toward the silver package. It was proof of how blind she’d been.

The suite phone rang again, and she closed her eyes in a losing battle to remain strong. She’d already broken her promise to answer all staff calls, no matter what time of day or night. But her cell held unread messages from Keenan. She sensed it. Which meant her only option had been to turn it off.

The trill ended, leaving her in thankful ear-ringing silence.

She did want to speak to someone. Her insides were waging war, the need for verbal therapy fighting against shame that demanded silence. The perfect candidate to receive her info dump didn’t exist anyway. There was nobody in Seattle she could chat to face-to-face. And friends and family back home seemed a world away.

The phone trilled again, this time poking at her frustration. She trudged for the bedside table, yanked the receiver and snapped, “What?”

“Ahh…” It was Kelly. Sweet, innocent Kelly. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Eventually.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No. I’m good.”

There was a beat of silence, a slight pause that made Savannah nervous over where the conversation would lead.

“Well, I’m knocking off for the night and you sound like you need a drink. The location is your choice. I can either create my own room card and bring up a bottle of wine, or you can meet me in the bar. Which is it?”

“No, honestly, I’m good.”

“Savannah,” Kelly lowered her voice, “I’ve spent a lot of spare time in the hospital watching people die beside my mother. Almost every day I hear people reject the offer of help. I know the difference between someone who truly doesn’t need support, from those who are too scared or full of pride to accept it. So, I’ll ask again—your room or the bar?”

Savannah turned to face the small space that had become her temporary home. Daylight was fading, casting the furniture in varying shadows. There was no life in here. No warmth. The room was devoid of possessions. Everything was packed. Her suitcase was on the bed. All signs pointed toward her departure and she wasn’t ready for the staff to know.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

She hung up and didn’t bother to look in the mirror as she walked from the room. There was no way her appearance was stellar, and no possibility that she could reach that point no matter how much prep time.

Kelly was already waiting for her at the bar, two glasses of wine seated in front of her. The area was almost empty with the faint mumble of guests floating in the air as they ate their dinner in the adjoining restaurant.

The receptionist swiveled on her stool and gave a sad smile in greeting. “I guess the meeting didn’t go well.”

Savannah used the bar to pull herself onto the cushioned seat as a glass of wine slid toward her.

“Thank you.” She sipped the liquid, letting the sweet reassurance of alcohol tingle on her tongue. “Actually, the meeting went well for Rydel staff.” Her voice lacked enthusiasm. “The CEO has been busy with other projects and was surprised by my concerns. He assures me he’ll get to the bottom of the emails and that you’ll have no trouble in the future.”

“You say that like you’re not going to be here.”

Savannah stared at the golden liquid in her glass, the throb, throb, throb under her sternum demanding she release some of the built-up pressure. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” Once morning came, she’d look for an available flight. A phone call was too impersonal to announce her downfall. It was best to speak to Spencer in person. Mathew, too. She deserved the 3D version of their ire, after all.

She took another sip of her wine. Followed by another and another. Night was already falling and the time since her last meal allowed for the wonders of alcohol to work their magic quicker than usual.

“I’m actually related to ‘The Bitch’ of Grandiosity,” she murmured. It wasn’t as if anyone apart from Kelly could hear her. The bartender was wiping down tables on the other side of the room. He hadn’t paid her attention since she arrived. “Mr. Rydel thought my presence would have helped the teething problems. Instead, it became clear that this is a personal vendetta against me.”

“
Hey, Trent
,” a female voice shouted from the restaurant. “
Can you give us a hand
?”

Savannah swiveled to meet the wince of one of the wait staff hovering in the doorway.

“Sorry, Ms. Hamilton, but we’re swamped in here. People are actually dining in tonight and it had to happen when two of the waitresses called in sick.”

“They’re not sick,” Kelly muttered. “I think they’ll be the next to hand in their resignations. A new restaurant opened on the other side of the city, and rumor has it that Layla and Tammy both had a trial run tonight.”

Savannah sighed. That meant two more wait staff that wouldn’t be available for the wedding. “Let me know if you need more help,” she called. “I’ll look after the bar.”

“It’s no problem. I can work both.” Trent threw his cloth over the counter. “I’ll keep walking back and forth.”

Thank goodness for small blessings. She didn’t think she should be in charge of serving alcohol at a time like this. As it was, she was practically alone in a fully stocked bar, heaven at her feet, and still she couldn’t let go of the nauseating pound in her chest to be able to enjoy it.

“You were saying that all of this was a personal vendetta.” Kelly glanced at her from the corner of her eye.

“Not all of it.” Savannah sighed. “I don’t think it started that way. But me being here isn’t helping the situation.”

“You just said everything went well with the CEO.”

“It did.” She was confident of that much.

Kelly frowned at her, the lines of confusion marring her forehead getting deeper and deeper.

“What’s with the look?” Savannah downed the last of her wine and pushed from her stool. The best part of being a temporary bartender was going to be her refusal to meet the standard height for a perfectly poured glass. Guidelines be damned.

“I’m surprised, that’s all. You say the meeting went well, yet when you walked back into the lobby this afternoon you looked devastated. Did I miss something?”

“That was different.” She grabbed an already opened bottle of wine from the mini fridge beneath the counter and filled their glasses. “It was a personal matter.”

“Right…” Kelly didn’t say another word as Savannah returned the bottle and stalked around the bar to take her seat. “Does it have anything to do with the guy staring at you from outside?”

She followed Kelly’s focus, her heart in her throat as she laid her gaze on the formidable figure standing near the public entrance to the bar. He stood in the shadows, his harsh features darkened from the glow of the dim bar lighting.

She didn’t say a word. She was too busy trying to suppress the urge to flee or to scream or maybe shoot him a hearty middle-finger salute.

“He looks familiar.”

Savannah scoffed. “He’s your future boss.”

The receptionist glanced back and forth, from Keenan to Savannah, over and over as if witnessing a tennis match. “The lingerie…”

Shit.
Kelly worked that out way too easily.

“You’ve been seeing him, right?”

There was no point denying the truth, or the staff she’d put at risk because of her stupidity. But the words wouldn’t form. They were caught in her throat, cutting off her air.

“What happened?”

Savannah reached for her glass, pretending to be unperturbed, just like Keenan had pretended to be interested in her. “I didn’t realize who he was.”

“Until when?”

Not until after the sex and seduction, the laughter and the fun. “This morning.”

“Ohh.”

“Yeah.” Savannah nodded, determined to keep her focus on the still liquid of the wine. “Ohh, is right. I feel ridiculously stupid.”

“If it helps any, it looks like he’s here to apologize.”

Doubtful.
Oh, so doubtful. “I don’t care. It didn’t mean anything anyway. Just a little fun that was meant to be harmless during the nights alone.”

Kelly tipped her glass, taking an extra-long gulp before sliding from her stool. “Well, I’ll leave you two to figure it out.”

“What?” Savannah straightened. “No. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Just look at him.” Kelly implored her with Bambi eyes. “He’s remorseful. Even I can see that under that intimidating glare of his.”

Savannah weakened, glancing toward the glass door. Keenan had regressed. He was back to scowling at her. The exact same expression as the night they met.

“What’s the harm?” Kelly added, grabbing her handbag off the counter. “You said you were leaving tomorrow anyway.”

The harm was all soul deep. Her stomach had been wrung like a dishcloth and she wasn’t sure if she could hide it if they spoke again.

“Good luck.” Kelly placed a hand on Savannah’s shoulder. “No matter what you decide, I hope it involves you sticking around in Seattle a little longer. The majority of us thought you were doing a really good job, and I don’t think who you were screwing changes that.” She lowered her voice. “And just to let you know, he’s already got one hand on the door.”

Savannah swallowed, hard, and wished every one of Kelly’s retreating steps toward the lobby didn’t feel like she was being shoved to the wolves. The swish of the door followed soon after, giving her an excuse to down the full glass of wine in three painful gulps.

She didn’t need to be informed of his presence. She could already feel him beside her, probably preparing to sink another knife in beside the one still embedded between her ribs. His solid frame slid onto the barstool Kelly had been seated on, and the unmistakable scent of his aftershave sank heavy into her lungs. He was there, right there. All sexiness and superiority wrapped up in a casual package of jeans and leather jacket.

“Leave.” She raised her glass then glared at the non-existent contents.

“Can I get you another one?” Grant strode around the bar, shocking her with his presence.

“Yes,” she gasped like an addict being offered a fix. “Please.”

The bartender inclined his head and reached down to the small wine fridge, his gaze scrutinizing her unwelcomed companion. “And you, sir? Can I get you anything?”

“No,” Savannah grated. “He’s leaving.”

Grant nodded and poured her wine. “Do you need anything else before I head back into the restaurant?”

“No.” She would leave mere minutes after him. Once the cool liquid in her glass had finished sliding down her throat, she would be out of here. Away from Keenan, to spend her last night in Seattle alone.

“Okay. I’ll keep coming in to check on you.” Grant walked to the end of the bar and out of view.

The hair on the back of her neck rose, the silence thick and nasty in the air. The alcohol in her stomach solidified, making her nauseated. Keenan was staring at her, she could sense it, feel it.

“I’ll have to inform our legal team, yet again, that Grandiosity staff are on the premises and causing trouble.” She kept staring straight ahead. “Our case for bullying and manipulation continues to grow stronger by the minute.”

He turned his body toward her, his knees bumping her stool. He could kick her chair for all she cared, she still wasn’t going to look at him.

“Just leave,” she murmured. “Run back to Penny.”

Announcing her jealousy wasn’t the best strategy, but intoxication didn’t play by the rules. Her veins were filling with fire, the temperature growing by the second. Soon her face would be flushed and her palms sweaty.

A bang exploded beside her, tearing a gasp from her throat. She glanced at the perpetrator—Keenan’s heavy hand now palm down against the counter. He’d slapped something against the wood. A piece of paper beneath his fingers.

A note.

Her head told her to walk away. To run.

It was the rapid beat of her heart that demanded she read the words that became exposed as his arm slid away from the bar and back to his side. He revealed a bright yellow Post-It scribbled with the words—
Let me explain.

She fought the fragility taking over her and laughed. “Please leave, Mr. Black.”

There was another slap on the bar, another bang of sound that made her gasp. And yet again, she had no will to stop herself from looking at the new message.

Would you have spared me the time of day if you knew I was the CEO’s son?

She stared at the question, reliving their past with his new position in mind. The answer was easy. Obvious. That was the problem. This thing between them should never have happened, yet he manipulated the silence to make sure it did.

His hand fell heavy again and this time she didn’t startle at the sound of palm against wood.