He turned to Steve. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”
The guy snorted. “I’ll bet.” He shook his head and swayed on his seat, quickly righting himself.
How was he supposed to have a reasonable discussion with the man when he was shitfaced, or close to it, anyway. “I’ve tried to call you several times, but for some reason you’ve been ignoring my calls.”
He snorted again. “We have nothing to discuss.”
Deacon tried not to grind his teeth. “Emily, for one.”
“Don’t mention that bitch’s name to me.”
“We need to—”
“She told me you’d moved her back in.”
The blood in his veins turned to ice. “What?”
“I can’t believe you took her back.”
Took her back? “I haven’t.”
“That’s not what she’s saying.”
“She convinced me she’d relapsed. That she might hurt herself.”
Steve snorted. “Looks like she’s played us both for a fool.”
When the hell would he learn? He’d lied to Alex, been forced to stay away from her. Forced to suffer Emily in his home the last couple days because she’d convinced him—and he’d stupidly believed her—that she had nowhere else to go. He’d sat with her for hours, doing his best to convince her to get more help. She’d played the victim so well, while she slept in his fucking spare room. And all the while, she’d been plotting. Some sick attempt to get him back.
Steve took a sip of his drink. “I asked her to marry me. Did you know that? She turned me down. Apparently, I don’t make enough money.” He slammed the glass on the bar. “So fucking cold.”
Deacon didn’t reply, too stunned, too damn angry at himself for letting her do this to him, again. Steve took his silence as an invitation to keep talking.
“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you during your cozy dinner date.” Steve must have read the confusion on his face. “You two were plastered all over the society pages.”
His first thought went to Alex, but he quickly brushed it aside. The only way she’d read the society pages was at gunpoint.
“She’s made fools of us, both of us, right from the start.”
Deacon turned to walk away. He needed to find Emily. He’d seen her when he’d walked in and had planned to avoid her all evening, but now he wanted to find her so he could wring her goddamn neck.
Steve grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Do you know why she slept with me that first time? Why you caught us? Because she wanted to make you jealous.” He waved his hand around. “So you’d realize you loved her.” He snickered. “Of course you ended things, and when her father found out that she’d lied to you about a pregnancy and screwed around with me, he cut her off.”
What? “She told you about the baby?”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. She wouldn’t risk scaring off her meal ticket. I heard her and Tammy talking. She was only with me until she could win you back, you see. Then you went and found someone else and blew Emily’s plan all to hell. She thought it was only a matter of time before you forgave her for her lies, and then she’d lure you back.”
She’d been manipulating him all this time. “The counseling sessions I’ve been paying for? The emotional breakdowns?”
“She never went to a session. The guy promised to keep his mouth shut if she…sorry, if you kept paying. The only thing wrong with Emily is that she’s a money-hungry, manipulative bitch.” He shook his head. “Nothing can fix that shit.”
He spotted Emily across the room and pushed off the bar, determined to confront her. But then he noticed several people had stopped in their tracks, staring at something near the entrance.
Deacon saw Jarrod Prescott standing near the main doors, and he watched as a grin spread across the other man’s face before he strode over to whoever was causing the commotion. Dread moved through him when he heard a very distinctive laugh. Rusty.
Then he saw them, his sisters and Alex, break through the crowd. All three were dressed like they were out clubbing—in other words, practically naked. Alex had on the boots he’d bought her and a skirt so short he knew if she turned around and leaned forward, he’d see ass cheek. He wanted to drag her out of there and give her the scene she’d come for, but she was doing a good job of it on her own.
Jarrod joined them, and the bastard slung his arm around Alex’s shoulders, grinned, and whispered something in her ear. She looked up at him, threw her head back, and laughed.
He lost it.
By the time he’d pushed through the growing crowd, Piper was sitting on the CEO of Tech Industries’s lap, and Rusty had pulled the president of the biggest finance company in Miami up to dance. The guy was close to eighty and looked like he might stroke out at any moment.
He stopped in front of Alex, close to stroking out himself, especially if Prescott didn’t take his goddamn hands off her. “You have it, you’ve got my attention.”
The woman completely ignored him, still chatting it up with Jarrod fucking Prescott. He didn’t care what others thought. He could never be anything but proud to be seen with Alex. It didn’t matter to him what she wore, he’d still be the luckiest man in the world. What pissed him off was the fact she thought this would embarrass him.
“Alex.”
Those dark eyes moved to him, locked on, daring him to blow his stack, to walk away, to prove her low opinion of him. She placed her hand on his chest, and he sucked in a breath just from her touch. “There you are, Daddy,” she said looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes, a smirk on her face as she dragged a finger slowly down his abs to his belt buckle.
Jesus. Some of these people might be ignorant enough to believe that’s what he was to her, a goddamn sugar daddy, but Alex—and his fucking sisters—should know him a hell of a lot better than that.
Jarrod chuckled, and Deacon shot him a dark look. The guy wisely removed his arm from around her shoulders.
Deacon grabbed Alex’s arm, intending to take her somewhere more private, but she shook him off. “Take your hands off me.” Her voice was deceptively calm, but he didn’t miss the way it shook. It damn near killed him.
Those photos of him and Emily in the newspaper, Alex had seen them. He couldn’t think of any other reason for this. “We need to talk. Those pictures—”
She crossed her arms, causing her barely covered breasts to almost pop out of her top. “The time for talk is over, Deke.”
He shrugged out of his jacket. “Put this on. Now.” Every male in the room had his eyes on her, on his woman, and he wanted to tear their fucking eyes out.
“Why? Are you ashamed to be seen with your whore? Afraid your wife will see us?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a wife, Alex. You know that.”
Her beautiful face twisted—anger, hurt, it was all there to see. She hid nothing. She loved him. She loved him, and he’d hurt her. Badly. “Alex…sweetheart…”
Her hand connected with the side of his face, the sound loud in the now near silent room. “Don’t call me that.”
His sisters were at Alex’s side in an instant. Rusty scowled at him. “You fucked up, Deke, big-time.” Then she grabbed Alex’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Then Piper, his usually cool-headed, sweet sister, stepped up to him. “If you bring that skank”—she pointed over his shoulder, and he knew Emily was standing right behind him, making this ten times worse, and as usual, taking advantage of the situation for her own gain—“to my cottage, I’ll run the bitch down, then back over her for good measure.”
Emily gasped, and he spun to face his ex-wife. “Walk away from me, now. Before I say something in front of all these people you sure as hell won’t want me to.”
She grabbed his arm, and he shook her off. “I love you, Deacon.” She said it without an ounce of real emotion except desperation, desperation that had nothing to do with losing a man who was supposedly the love of her life.