home » Romance » Emma Hart » Final Call (Call #2) » Final Call (Call #2) Page 4

Final Call (Call #2) Page 4
Author: Emma Hart

I wriggle my toes inside my shoes. I want to go home, change into some pajamas, and eat ice cream. Even if my ass is feeling the numerous tubs over the last week or so.

No, I tell myself. I’m not doing that anymore—being a whiny teenage girl over something she couldn’t help. Something she couldn’t stop. I’m going to be the strong, independent woman I am.

After all, a man can’t make me, so there’s no reason to let him break me either.

Mental pep talk done, I follow Liv into the bar and to our usual table by the window. It provides the perfect spot for people-watching, something I’ve found myself doing a lot since we went to Italy, and it gives Liv the perfect view of the door just in case a hot guy should walk through.

Our friendship is kind of skewed, I’m realizing.

One bottle of wine appears on the table in front of us. “A bottle? Big spender tonight?” I tease her, grabbing it and pouring two glasses.

“Ha! As if.” She grins and nods her head behind me. “Nope. The two guys in the suits bought it for us.”

Of course. Only my best friend could walk in somewhere and get the first drinks bought for us.

I glance at her chest. The girls are definitely out to play tonight. “I wonder why.”

Her smile widens. “Hey, if they get us free drinks, are you going to complain?”

I want to remind her that I can buy my own drinks, but even that reminds me of Aaron. Fucking hell. Is there anything that won’t?

“I have a job this weekend.”

“Hmm? Where to?”

Liv chews on the inside of her lip and hides behind her wine glass. “I didn’t want to tell you before, but I took your advice. I went to the Stone agency.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Regardless of the ass**le level of the guy in charge, they’re still an incredible agency. Are you signed with them?”

“Not yet. This weekend is a kind of trial, too. If the pictures come back okay, they’ll be drawing up a contract next week.”

“I’m happy for you.” I grab her hand across the table. “Really, I am.”

Apparently even now my best friend will remind me of him. Maybe I should move to Australia.

“I thought it would be kind of awkward.”

I force a laugh. “No. What happened with us happened. One of those things.”

She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Right. We can go with that.”

“I was planning on doing so.” I sigh into my glass. “Can we stop talking about him now, please? I’m done moping over him.”

Liv stands and grabs my hand. “Let’s finish this then find somewhere we can go dance. And with any luck, there’ll be some hot guys to look at.”

She has a one-track mind.

***

“My feet hurt,” I whine, sitting on a stool. I pull my shoe off and rub the ball of my foot with my thumb. Two hours of nearly solid dancing has just about killed me.

“Wine?”

“The drink or the action?” I mumble. “If I can, both.”

Liv laughs and leans over the bar. She gives her eyelashes a quick flutter, squeezes her boobs together, and grabs the attention of the bar guy right away. I’d roll my eyes if I weren’t so used to it.

Two glasses of wine appear in front of us. I pull out the money, but a hand rests on my forearm. “Let me get those for you,” a deep voice says into my ear.

I turn to face the guy offering with a polite smile. “Thank you, but no thank you. I owe her a round.” I’m done having drinks bought for me.

“Really, let me get it for you.”

“That’s very kind of you, but no, thank you.” My voice firms toward the end. I don’t give a crap if he’s good-looking and has that rugged thing going on that melts panties. My panties aren’t melting, and I’m buying my own drink.

He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s interrupted by another voice. One that sends shivers down my spine and stops my heart.

“You heard the lady. She can buy her own drink”

Liv’s eyes widen, and my throat goes dry. No. He’s not supposed to be here. America or Seattle. No. No.

“And who are you?”

“I’m the owner.”

Liv’s eyes are as wide as saucers, but I’m not even surprised. Am I surprised he’s here? Yes. That he owns the place? No. I know nothing about his business. Not really.

More words are exchanged behind me, words I can’t make out through the spinning inside my body. Every part of me is on edge, and my stomach is clenched with apprehension. I can’t breathe.

I grab Liv’s arm and shake my head. I can’t stay here—not with him. She understands, grabbing my hand and leading me toward the door. I step out into the night air and take a deep breath, leaning against the wall, but the eyes I look into aren’t the blue-green ones of my best friend.

They’re the electric-blue ones of the man who owns me so entirely.

“What the f**k are you doing here?”

“I own this place with my uncle. He saw you were here and called me.”

“Not that it has anything to do with you.” I straighten. “Where’s Liv?”

Aaron grabs my arm to stop me going back inside and spins me into him. I look up at him coldly, ignoring the way a fire sparks at his fingers wrapped around my bicep and threads through my veins until my body is alive and humming.

“I wanted to see if you were okay. That’s all. Then that guy—”

“I can take care of myself.” I snatch my arm back. “I’m more than capable of it, thank you. I certainly don’t need saving from someone who has no right to do so.”

“Is that what you think?”

I step back. “That’s what I know. You gave up every right to have anything to do with me eleven days ago.”

“Twelve.”

“What?”

Aaron swallows, and I see a flicker of regret in his eyes. “Twelve days. But who’s counting?”

“Not me, evidently.” I turn away, but his next words make me stop with my hand on the door handle.

“It’s over. Naomi finally signed the papers two days ago.”

A lump builds in my throat, one that threatens tears as strongly as it threatens vomit, and I struggle to swallow it back down.

“Congratulations,” I croak. “Now perhaps you can find someone and have a real relationship with them.”

“I already found her.”

“Then it’s a shame you f**ked it up, isn’t it?”

Search
Emma Hart's Novels
» His Call (Call #2.5)
» Final Call (Call #2)
» Late Call (Call #1)