The Next Play: Part Four: the play series | book 1 | part 4 Page 7

  “Give me my phone!” she demanded hotly, tugging at his arm like a little hellion. “I’m sick of her ruining our nights together and making us fight. I’m going to text this evil bitch back and finally give her a piece of my mind!”

  “Jesus, Jace, calm down.” Fear kept striking him hard and low in the gut as he locked his worried gaze with her fuming one. “Nothing good will come from goading her. She’ll only find some way to make things worse.”

  “Worse?” A bitter laugh fell quietly from her lips as she finally stopped trying to reach her phone and took a step back from him, her expression a mix of lingering anger, confusion, and growing suspicion. “What could she possibly send that I haven’t already seen?”

  He opened his mouth, only to snap it shut again, and the suspicion in her beautiful eyes became a living, breathing thing, stretching to life between them until he swore he could feel its cold touch pressing against his skin.

  “So, there are more secrets to come,” she said faintly, the sadness of her tone making a muscle pulse at the side of his jaw. “I guess I should have known, given your reputation. But in my defense, you only have one dick and one mouth, right?”

  “Jocelyn,” he said raggedly, his brow beading with sweat, even though he was cold as hell.

  Another low, bitter laugh fell from her sweet lips as she took a second step back from him, the brief distance feeling like a gaping chasm. “Maybe I just need to think outside the box.”

  “That’s enough,” he warned—but she just kept going.

  “I mean, there’s always your hands. Those could certainly keep a woman entertained. And I can personally vouch for how talented your fingers—”

  “Goddamn it, Jocelyn. Stop!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jonah winced as the harsh command seemed to bounce off his bedroom walls, hoping he hadn’t woken up Davey with his shouting. Blowing out a ragged breath, he shoved Jocelyn’s phone into his back pocket and fought to calm down.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to shout like that,” he said in a low voice. “But we can’t let her get between us. We have to…” His voice trailed off at the sound of another buzzing phone, and he sighed, wondering what the hell was going to go wrong now.

  “That was your phone, not mine,” she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest in a belligerent stance.

  “I know.”

  She lifted her brows. “Aren’t you going to see who the message is from?”

  He wanted to tell her that he didn’t give a damn, but bit back the words and went ahead and pulled his phone from his front pocket. A quick glance at the screen showed that he had a new text message from Jenny Velasquez, the woman’s timing so horrendous it was almost comical.

  “Well?” Jocelyn asked, when he simply put the phone back into his pocket without saying anything.

  “It was nothing,” he muttered, feeling like he was trapped in the mother of all bad dreams. All he needed now was the fucking clown from Poltergeist to come creeping out of his closet and the nightmare would be complete.

  “Don’t,” she said low, her gaze so sharp it could have cut like a blade. “Whatever else you do, don’t lie to me.”

  “Then stop acting like a—”

  “Like a what?” she pressed, when his brain finally kicked in and he shut the hell up. “A raging bitch? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “No!”

  “Bullshit!”

  Balling his hands into fists, Jonah could literally feel every ounce of progress they’d made since yesterday slipping away like a goddamn mudslide. It was as if Valerie had some kind of toxic sixth sense about how to screw with him—but then, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was sending her messages at night, when they were most likely to cause disruption between him and Jocelyn. And the bitch was undoubtedly still running surveillance on his building, which meant she knew that Jocelyn and Davey were staying with him.

  Knew her fucking photos were going to hit them like a bomb, causing maximum damage.

  “You know what the shitty thing about secrets is,” Jocelyn said, her husky voice pulling Jonah from his spiraling thoughts. “They start out small, but they never stay that way. They fester and grow, until the next thing you know, they’re big enough to take out everything in their path, no matter how hard you try to stop them.”

  “It was a text from Jenny,” he scraped out, knowing damn well just how true her words were. And while he wasn’t ready to tell her everything, he could at least give her this.

  Her eyes went wide. “Jenny Velasquez? The woman in the photo with you and Monica?”

  “Yeah.”

  She took a moment to process the news, then pulled in a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her middle again, the stance reminding him of someone bracing for a blow. “Um, all right. What did she want?”

  “You can see for yourself,” he said, taking the phone back out and handing it over.

  “I got your voicemail,” she read aloud. “Sorry about the other night. You’re right to be furious. I never should have agreed to come as Lucas’s date. Please tell Jocelyn I’m sorry. And I’ll do what I can to make sure everyone understands what’s going on.”

  Looking back up at him, she asked, “What is she talking about? What is going on?” Before he could answer, she paled, her next words tumbling out in a horrified rush. “Oh, God. You didn’t tell her about the photo of you and Monica that was sent last night, did you? Did you tell her that I saw it? That someone used it to hurt me?”

  “What? No. Of course not.” He wiped his hand over his mouth, wishing they were doing anything but this, dissecting his fucking past in all its gruesome glory. “Before I came to pick you up yesterday, I called most of the club’s members who I’ve…performed with, and I told them that it won’t be happening again. Not at the club, or anywhere else. I wanted to make it clear to them that I’m in a serious relationship now, and that that isn’t going to change.”

  “And Jenny was one of those calls?” she asked, her expression guarded as she handed the phone back over to him.

  “She was,” he replied, still worried as hell about how this conversation was going to end, “even though I was only with her that one night. She knows Monica through work, and they like to perform together. But I only joined in with them that one time, and like I told you last night, I knew it was a mistake.”

  “And Lucas was there too?” she asked, no doubt remembering the shit that Lucas had spouted when he’d been drunk at dinner on Thursday night.

  “He was.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “He showed up after me, because he’d been in a meeting with James. And he stayed after I left.” Long after, from the sound of it, he thought, keeping that last bit to himself. Lucas’s legendary sexual stamina was one of the last damn things Jonah planned on sharing with her.

  “Who’s James?”

  The question caught him by surprise, since he’d thought she would want to know why he hadn’t told her last night about Jenny being a part of the performance he’d put on with Monica. Though she probably just assumed he was a lying, secretive sack of shit who wasn’t going to tell her anything he didn’t have to, and Jonah knew he had no one to blame but himself. “James Vane is the owner of the club.”

  She let that information sink in for a moment, before asking, “And a friend?”

  “I’m not sure James really has any friends,” he told her. “But I imagine that me and Lucas are the closest thing he’s got.”

  “And you’ve no doubt been an awesome money-maker for him,” she offered with another bitter, choked burst of laughter. “I’m sure he loves the hell out of you—or at least your willingness to fuck anything that moves.”

  He flinched as if she’d just slapped him across the face, her tone striking him as hard as her words, and she blanched when she caught his reaction. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking another step back as she pushed both hands into her hair, holding the golden strands away from her face. “That was
an awful thing to say. It’s just… It’s too much to take in, between Monica and Jenny and who knows how many others.”

  “And I’ve told you, I don’t know how many times, that none of that shit matters,” he ground out, his frustration with the entire situation mounting by the second. “Can’t you see what she’s doing? You’re letting her get in your head, when there’s no reason. You don’t need to be jealous!”

  Her hands fell to her sides, and she stared back at him in stunned confusion, as if she couldn’t believe he could be so stupid. “Jealous? God, Jonah, it’s not about jealousy. It’s the fact that you’re used to things I can’t give you!” she cried, pressing her closed fist against her heart. “You’re used to variety, just like that stupid text says. To sharing women, and fucking two women at the same time, with your friends no less, all of you beautiful and perfect and built like freaking gods. How am I supposed to compete with all of that? How am I going to be enough to keep you satisfied?”

  He closed his eyes for a count of ten, striving for patience, and then locked his battle-weary gaze with hers. “I told you I would never cheat, and you said that you believed me.”

  “I do,” she sniffed, clearly fighting back her tears. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t decide you need the excitement back in your life and end things between us.”

  “Excitement? Christ, Jocelyn. You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

  “And you don’t think that maybe we’re just too different to work?” She swiped impatiently at the tears that started to roll down her cheeks. “I mean, I get why you went there in the first place, but it… It became your life, Jonah. For years.”

  “No,” he argued as he took a step forward, desperate to close the distance between them. “It became a part of my life. One that I’ve explained time and again was nothing but a goddamn crutch. One that I’m a hell of a lot better off without.”

  “It doesn’t look like a crutch in that photo, or in the one that she sent last night. There’s a smile on your face in both of them—the kind of smile that a man in his prime wears when he’s enjoying himself.”

  “Fucking photos can be deceiving, Jocelyn. You’re too smart not to know that. That bitch chose those moments precisely because they tell the story that she wants to tell. But it’s all a damn lie. And I’m not even looking at the camera in either one of them. I could be grimacing, or cursing, or—”

  Softly, she said, “Or getting ready to come.”

  “Shit!” He squeezed the bridge of his nose so hard that it made his eyes sting, but it was nothing compared to the pain pounding behind his ribs. “Are you ever going to be able to get past this?”

  “I want to.” She pulled in a shaky breath as the tears continued to roll down her face, then slowly let it out. “But right now, I… I think I just need a few minutes to myself.”

  He dipped his head forward and locked his fingers behind his neck, his pulse roaring in his ears as he struggled not to panic—at least not any more than he already was. “Okay,” he said raggedly, his throat so clogged with emotion he could barely get the word out. “I hate it, but I’ll give you some space. Just…don’t leave. Please,” he added, lifting his head to look at her. “The safest place for you and Davey right now is here, with me.”

  “I know, and I’m not going to run,” she told him, wetting her lips with a flick of her tongue. “I just need a moment to get my thoughts straight, so that everything doesn’t end up twisting in on itself. I… I need to figure out what this all means for us.”

  It took everything Jonah had not to close the distance between them so that he could take her into his arms, where she fucking belonged. “And shouldn’t we do that together?”

  She shook her head, blinking away her tears. “Not right now. I’m too raw. I just… I think I might go and take a shower.”

  “If you need me,” he sighed, feeling utterly defeated as he took her phone from his back pocket and handed it back to her, “just come and get me.”

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything, and he forced himself to start moving and get the hell out of there, before he got down on his knees and started begging. And while he wasn’t above groveling when it came to this woman, he was terrified of scaring her off.

  Halfway down the moonlit hallway, Jonah stopped and braced his shoulder against the wall, unable to go on, his body simply locking down on him. He couldn’t believe that after such an amazing afternoon with Jocelyn and Davey, the day was ending like this. In a soul-shredding pile of shit and regret. He’d made those phone calls yesterday so that something like this wouldn’t happen—so that all the members who contacted him so often, asking him to come and play on stage with them, would leave him alone—and the plan had totally backfired in his face.

  But that second photo on her phone had dealt the harshest blow of the night.

  He didn’t even think it was the ménage part that had caused Jocelyn so much pain, because she already knew that he’d shared women with Lucas—and she also knew about the night that he’d spent with Denny and Gabe. But seeing an actual image of him screwing two women—and to make it even worse, two women she knew… Yeah, that was seriously fucked. Hell, she’d looked like someone had kicked her in the stomach.

  And what really ate at him was that the photo could have been so much more revealing, seeing as how he hadn’t just been with Jenny and Monica that night. And while he would never be ashamed that he’d fooled around with both women and men over the years, the fact that fucking multiple partners in front of a crowd was the closest thing to intimacy he’d experienced in more than a decade wasn’t exactly something he was proud of. It only made him look like a sex-obsessed, commitment-phobic dickhead. And he knew his male partners were just going to be one more item that Jocelyn stacked on the list of things she thought would be too difficult for him to give up in order to be with her. So how in the fuck was he meant to tell her about them? He was screwed if he did…and screwed if he didn’t.

  Of course, the next photo that Valerie sent might take the decision completely out of his hands. Jonah wanted to demand that Jocelyn give up her phone and never get another one, but he knew that was never going to happen. Which meant that if they didn’t find Valerie, and soon, he was going to have to keep on living as if he had an anvil suspended above his head, just waiting for the rope to fray and the bastard to fall on his skull, cracking it open.

  Desperate to take some kind of action, he was tempted to call Phil again, but what could he say that hadn’t already been said. His friend knew he wanted the bitch found. And that once she was, he planned on pressing harassment charges against her, since he wanted Valerie Johnson’s vindictive ass in jail. Hopefully before she could cause any more damage.

  Exhaling a ragged breath, the silence of the penthouse seemed to press in on him, and he turned, bracing his back against the wall, unwilling to walk downstairs and put any more distance between him and Jocelyn than he had to. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her it was a lonely place to live, and he hoped to God that one day he could change that. That he could be standing in his kitchen on a warm summer day, making lunch for her and Davey, while the two of them played out in the pool. Hoped that he’d finally have a use for the two extra bedrooms on this floor, since they could have Nic paint some kickass animal scenes on the walls in one of them for Davey, and he could kit the other one out as a home office for Jocelyn, complete with every computer gadget she could ever possibly need for her freelance work.

  When he heard the water turn on in his bathroom, he slid his back down the wall, bracing his arms on his bent knees as he sat on his ass and stared out at the night sky through the glass wall, wishing that he could find some answers to all this madness in the star-studded heavens. It was so strange to think that only a few short weeks ago, he’d been this laid-back, easy-going, not-a-care-in-the-world playboy. At least on the outside.

  On the inside, there’d been nothing but ice. And that’d been fine, because the num
bness had suited him, the same as his lifestyle had.

  But once that ice had started to crack, everything else went right along with it.

  Now he was here, in this moment, and he still didn’t know how to explain what was happening to him. If Jocelyn had been the catalyst, or if fate had simply brought her into his world at a time when he’d finally been able to open his eyes and see what was right in front of him. See what he’d been missing.

  When he could finally admit just how lost he was. How fucking lonely and broken.

  But the how and the why didn’t matter. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that he’d found her. She was his, whether he deserved her or not, and no matter what it took, Jonah was going to spend the rest of his life working to be the best possible version of himself that he could be for her and her son.

  Because that’s what they deserved.

  Little more than a half hour had passed since he’d walked away from her, but it felt like an eternity. Hoping he’d given her enough time to herself, since he couldn’t stay away any longer, he pushed up onto his feet and walked back to his room, nearly colliding with her as she came through the open doorway, his hands going to her shoulders to keep her from falling down.

  “Hey,” she said softly, blinking up at him. “You must have read my mind, because I was just coming to find you.”

  He didn’t say anything. Just stared down at her, a little blinded by how beautiful she was, all fresh-faced and wrapped up in one of his towels, his tongue itching to run over every inch of her creamy skin and mouthwatering curves.

  “I’m so sorry,” she added in a broken, breathless rush.

  “Fuck, no,” he groaned, finally finding his voice. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  She sniffed, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But you were right—I let her get to me. All I could think about while I was standing in the shower was that I was acting like an idiot, giving her exactly what she wants, and I hate that. I don’t want to give her the power to hurt us. I don’t want to fight with you.”