After downing a shot of tequila, a slight pang of guilt for not giving Dillon the little he had asked from her hit the pit of her stomach. He’d emotionally taken care of her through the most difficult time in her life, constantly complimented her on a daily basis—whether it be about her physical or educational attributes—and made her want for nothing financially. Sex in someone’s home—be it crowded or not—shouldn’t have been an issue in her mind.
Before the shortcomings she felt about herself regarding their relationship cut deeper into her heart, Emily caught a glimpse of Gavin from across the pool, talking with a group of women. As he made conversation with them, he used his hands in intimate ways—a slight touch on the nape of the neck to get their attention, a casual brush on the arm as they spoke, or a light press against the small of the back when he would laugh—and the women fell all over themselves when he did. Emily swallowed hard when he glanced in her direction, essentially catching her staring at him. She watched him excuse himself from the eager wannabe-future-Mrs.-Gavin-Blake group as he made his way toward her.
Casually dressed in a white linen shirt and khaki shorts, he approached her with a smile and leaned against the bar. “I find it impossible that a woman as beautiful as you look this evening is sitting here alone.”
Without missing a beat, Emily laughed. “You’re truly a connoisseur of knowing what to say and do to women.”
He cocked a smug brow and smiled. “I don’t know about that; however, I am a connoisseur of making the world’s most delectable ham sandwiches,” he laughed and so did Emily. Holding her gaze, he took a long pull from his beer. “But, really, where’s the man that should be sitting by your side at this very moment?”
She surveyed the crowd again. “He’s around here somewhere.”
As Gavin’s eyes roamed over his guests in an attempt to locate Dillon, his eyes locked on Monica Lemay. She was making her way over to him and Emily, a malicious grin smearing across her face. He hastily excused himself from Emily, letting her know he’d be right back.
Monica rolled her eyes as Gavin approached. “Have you come to give me a warning as well?” She pushed up on her tiptoes and nipped on his earlobe. He recoiled, pulling away from her. “Because there’s no need to do so. I’ve already been thoroughly warned by Dillon to act as if I don’t know him for the evening and to also stay away from his little girlfriend over there, too.”
Gavin glared at her, angling his head to the side, his eyes hard. “Oh, have you? Then why did it just appear as though you were going to say something to her?”
“Can a girl not get a drink from the bar?” she asked, affecting a venomous sneer.
“Go to one of the other bars, Monica.” He leaned down to her ear, lowering his voice to an icy whisper. “You’re a fucking snake. Don’t think I can’t see through you.” He took a step back. “You stay the fuck away from her. Do you understand me?”
She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms as she looked away.
“Monica, look me in the eyes and tell me if you see a man who’s easily deterred from ripping your whole world to shreds.”
She drew up a brow, her hazel eyes wide. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Gavin?”
“It means that Blake Industries is a major benefactor in your father’s company. I hold more than seventy-five percent of its stocks. I’ll sell off every single one of them on Monday with a quick phone call.” He leaned in closer, and she took a step back. “Wall Street will have a field day, and by Tuesday, you and your family will be scrounging for scraps in the alleys of Harlem.”
She sucked in an indignant breath as her lips pulled down at the corners. “You wouldn’t!”
“Fucking try me.” He turned away and ran smack into Colton.
“Whoa, little man, you look furious.”
Gavin glanced over to where Emily remained seated at the bar. “I’m fine. What’s up?” he sniffed.
“Mom needs you in the kitchen,” he said, raking his hand through his hair. “I don’t know—something about someone down by the gates, trying to get onto the property that’s not on the authorized list.”
Emily nodded in Gavin’s direction when she caught his gaze from across the pool. He was holding up a finger to her as though letting her know he would be right back. She watched as he quickly vanished through the crowd, making his way into the house. She recognized the woman he was speaking with from the bar a few days before. She wondered why he would invite his ex to the party or why she would show up. It was obvious to Emily that they still had ongoing issues.
As Emily ordered a drink, a tall muscular man around her age approached her, the smell of booze seeping clear out of his pores.
Smoothing a piece of his brown hair away from his forehead, he gave her a crooked smile. “Pretty cool party, right?”
Emily glanced at him as she accepted her beer from the bartender. “Yes, it is,” she smiled.
“So are you here with anyone, or am I just the fucking luckiest guy at this party to have stumbled upon a hot-looking single girl?”
That’s a killer pick-up line, asshole, she thought. “Sorry, I’m here with someone.”
He let out a superior huff. “Who? Cause I know everyone here. I just may have to give him a beat down.”
This is getting better by the minute. “Dillon Parker.”
The man furrowed his brows. “You’re not with Dillon Parker. He’s still with Monica Lemay.” He took a large swallow of his drink. “At least I thought he was.”
Now you have my attention, jerkoff. “Who’s Monica Lemay?”
“Do you know Gavin?”
Emily quickly nodded.
“She’s the piece of blonde-haired prime meat he was just talking with by the pool.”
This moron is definitely drunk. “No, you must be confused. The woman Gavin was just speaking with is his ex-girlfriend—not Dillon’s.”
The man adamantly shook his head. “Gavin’s never dated Monica. We grew up together; he can’t stand her.” He downed another shot before continuing. “I’ve spent many Fourth of July parties at this house,” he pointed a finger across the yard. “And I’ve witnessed Dillon and Monica stumble out of that very guesthouse many mornings after, barely dressed. They definitely fucked.”
As she stood up, dazed at what he had just revealed, Emily tried to swallow. Her throat felt like razor-sharp blades were sliding into her esophagus.
“Hey, so you wanna give me your number or what?”
Without a backward glance, Emily pushed her way through the crowd. Their screeching voices, laughter, and jovial faces were a distant blur—a complete fuzz in her mind. A thin sheen of sweat beaded over her flesh as panic set it. She made her way toward the beckoning glow of the house. Walking past the kitchen, she spotted Gavin talking with his mother. He looked in her direction as she stormed into the living room.
When Emily rounded the corner to the hall, air whooshed from her lungs as her heart imploded into a gut-wrenching burst of effervescence upon seeing Dillon with Monica. The organ suffered another devastating blow when she saw Monica snaking her arms around Dillon’s neck, drawing him into her, and then it happened—the kiss. Unable to fully comprehend what was going on, Emily cupped her hand over her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Incapable of witnessing their exchange any further, she spun herself around, her body colliding against Gavin’s chest. He caught her by the arms, flicking his eyes down to her face and then over her shoulder as they narrowed on Dillon and Monica.
“I…I…have to leave,” Emily breathed out, her voice bleeding with pain. “Please. Call me a cab,” she begged as she rapidly made her way to the front of the house and out the door.