I wanted to yell at him. Tell him how ridiculous he was being, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You don't want me touching you in public?"

"Glad we're on the same page."

"Wait just one damn second. What am I to you, Finn? What is it you want from me? Because the sooner I figure that out, the sooner I'll be on the same page."

"You're my best kept secret. So let's keep it that way."


Five

His words caught me off guard. Secret? I was nothing more than a fucking secret. Moments like these made me want to slap those beautiful features from his face. Anger boiled inside me, as it flared inside him, and together we were a hurricane of fuming emotions.

If we were to be a couple—wait, were we to be a couple? Or was I just a good fuck that now lived with him? Actually, I didn't know what he even thought or felt for me. I lived in some fucked-up fairy tale and thought everything would be perfect since Prince Charming took my virginity. I was mistaken.

When we arrived back at his house, I stormed inside and snatched the keys to the Honda from the counter.

"Where do you think you're fucking going?"

"Away."

I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm and wouldn't let go. Not wanting to peer into his eyes, but doing it anyway, caused his features to soften.

"You can't go," he said.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want. You don't own me. All of this has been my choice and having that right doesn’t change now. My parents are dead, and I don't need new ones. Agreeing to move in with you was a lapse of fucking judgment, and I've changed my mind. I don’t want to be your secret little fuck. I won't."

He actually laughed, sarcastically, but it was still a laugh.

"Hold on. You've always done exactly as I've asked, so don't get pissy and act like you're running the show, Jennifer. You aren't. You never were. If you're to live with me, there are rules. Just as if you are an Elite. Rules that must be followed. My say is final, always. So let’s start with this one: you don't get to do whatever the fuck you want. I've got a business to run and despite your childish, ridiculous jealousy that decided to rear its ugly little head, I will not have you interrupting me while I'm recruiting. I'm not an idiot. I can see right through you. I know you, Miss Downs."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted me.

"The Elite is a part of me, and if you want to be the other part, you can't act that way. I will not choose between the two. I'm not keeping you here. I'm not forcing you to stay, but once you walk out that door, don't fucking come back."

Was that it? After one of the most sexually charged days of my life, would this be how it would end? I stood there and contemplated my next move. Evening was upon us and finding an apartment before dark would be impossible. I would rent a hotel room and search tomorrow. But did I really want to leave? Did I want to walk away from everything that Finnley and I had shared… whatever it was?

"I occasionally hand-pick my Girls. If I see something in a person that others would enjoy, I will slip her a business card. Yes, I'm aware that women want to fuck me, and that I can act a certain way and make them do whatever I please. But I didn't want to fuck her, regardless of what you think."

He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, and walked to the living room. I stood there, silently, trying to decide whether to stay or leave. While contemplating what the fuck I was doing, I smoothed the sweater dress on my legs. There was only one answer, and we both knew what it was.

"I won't be moving in, Mr. Felton. I'm sorry," I said, and closed my fist around the keys then softly closed the door leading to the garage. My heart raced, and I didn't know if I would really be able to walk away from him, but somehow I did. As I sat in the Honda, I thought about going back to him, but instead I reversed out of the garage and drove myself to the Bellagio.

Funny wasn’t it? That I ended up at that hotel after all of it. Life had really gone full circle.

The same woman that checked me in a few months ago happily handed me a key to a room. I robotically wheeled the suitcase to the elevator. My mind spun, and I didn't know when it would stop. I tried to think back and replay exactly what had happened and where our day made a wrong turn. Did I overreact a little? Maybe.

Finn didn't call. He didn't stop me. Although I wanted him to stand up and demand that I not leave, I knew he wouldn't.

It would be easy to do whatever Finn said. I could pretend to be his housewife, sleep in his bed every night, and allow him to take care of me, but pretending in private and pretending in public were two different things. Since my parents' death, I vowed to live like tomorrow would never come, and I didn't want to waste my days faking my feelings. I didn't want to act like we weren't together. It seemed there were lots of things I didn’t want.

Leaving was my decision, one that I made on my own.

Hopefully Finnley finally understood that he was no longer the boss of me, because Jennifer Downs did whatever the hell she wanted, even if it was just to prove a fucking point.

Yesterday seemed like a crazy dream, and I halfway expected to wake up at the house with the Girls, back in my bed, which I had become so accustomed to falling asleep in. A part of me wanted to warp back to a time when relationship complications didn't exist, where the hardest part of the day consisted of picking which shoes to wear, or Elite training.

After I dressed in a plain shirt, blue jeans, and flats, I grabbed my phone and searched online for apartments. I would need to find a place before the end of the day, but every picture I looked at was unimpressive. I wouldn't settle. The next place I moved to would need to be nearly perfect and close to downtown. If I were to stay in Vegas, it would have to be worth my while.

The money from selling my parents’ house stayed untouched in my bank account. Money wasn't an issue and leaving wasn't an option. A part of the city reeled me in, hook, line and sinker style, and I planned to stay.

When I opened the door to leave, I saw the back of someone I didn't expect to see. He turned around, and his crystal blue eyes stared into mine. My breath caught, and I couldn't speak.

"Hi," Luke said.

"Hi."

We stood staring at one another.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Hmm. You left Texas and came straight to the Bellagio. You left The Elite, so this seemed like the only logical place you'd be. I called the hotel, and they gave me your room number. You aren't very hard to track down."

I smiled because he was right, and he returned the gesture.

"Do you want to grab a coffee? I'd like to talk."

Awkwardness lingered.

It was now or never, I supposed, so I agreed to have coffee. Coffee was innocent. I couldn't refuse him while he stood with that sweet smile on his face. It killed me. Somehow, I knew this would happen, that I would become another one of Luketon's terrible statistics, another mark on his wall of women that broke his heart.

"Yeah. Sure. I'd like that."

I slid the hotel key into my back pocket and followed him down the stairs. As many nights as I had stayed at the Bellagio, I'd never used them. I was only on the fourth floor, so it was no big deal. I needed to calm the fuck down, but I couldn't. A wave of guilt swept over me.

Once outside, the cool breeze hit my face and body. I shivered and crossed my arms. Luke took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders with a smile. Always a gentleman. His warmth still filled the sleeves, and his smell covered my body. God his smell... like fresh Irish Spring. I actually missed it.

A quaint little café on the corner acted as a refuge from the crisp air. The big windows had a countdown to Christmas with fake snow sprayed across the panes. The little bell rang when Luke opened the door. The smell of roasted coffee beans immediately filled my nose. A grinding espresso machine added to the quiet chatter and ambient music in the room. Strangers sipped from tall white cups, and Christmas decorations lined the counters and shelves against the walls. Seriously, we had over a month left, but then again, some places started counting down the days before Halloween.

God, I loved a nice coffee on a winter day. Triple Mocha Latte in a "for here" mug with whip, hells yes. Without thinking, I opened my phone and read the last few text messages Luke sent while he ordered his drink. I couldn't seem to forgive myself for what I'd done to him. Knowing that all women treated him badly, and everyone he had ever been in love with left him, made me feel horrible. I didn't want to become another reason why he didn't trust women.

Our coffees slid across the bar, and the barista yelled our order: light mocha with skim milk and a black coffee. I never understood black coffee. How could someone drink it with no cream or sugar, with nothing fun or delicious? I hoped after I told him about Finnley and me, he wouldn't act like his coffee: bitter.

The cream made a heart in the mug as it melted together with the warm liquid. Once we sat down by the windows close to the door and watched the people walking on the streets, I twirled my little straws to pass the time. He finally broke the silence.

"So how have you been? Haven't talked in a few days."

"Good. Great, actually. You know, I was fired."

"Well maybe you can strive to become an accountant like you wanted."