Chapter 230
“He brought her here,” Carmen whispered. “To my bed.”
“Quentin?” Jocelyn sat beside her and placed a hand on her knee.
“I came home early. I heard noises.” Carmen took a long gulp of whiskey and winced as it burned down her throat. “I found them. In our bed. On the sheets I bought.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Jocelyn pulled her into a hug. Carmen felt frail beneath her arms, trembling like a leaf in a storm.
“He said it was a mistake. He said she meant nothing.” Carmen laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “He said he was just ‘stressed’ about the wedding.”
“He’s a liar,” Jocelyn said fiercely. “He’s garbage.”
“I threw his clothes off the balcony,” Carmen said, gesturing toward the open sliding door. The curtains billowed in the wind.
Jocelyn looked out. Below, on the trees lining the street, expensive suits and dress shirts hung from the branches like strange, limp fruit.
“Good,” Jocelyn said. “He deserves worse.”
𝘚𝘩𝘢𝗋e уо𝗎𝘳 t𝘩о𝗎𝗴𝗁𝘵ѕ 𝗼𝘯 𝗴𝖺lո𝘰𝗏𝘦𝗹s.𝗰o𝘮
“I cancelled the venue. I cancelled the caterer,” Carmen listed, counting on her fingers. “I sent an email to all the guests.” She looked at Jocelyn, her eyes wide and frightened. “But now I’m alone. Again.”
“You are not alone. You have me,” Jocelyn said, squeezing her hand. “And you have a lot of work to do. We have a hotel to run. Work is the best distraction.”
“I can’t stay here tonight. The bed…” Carmen shuddered. “It smells like her cheap perfume. I can’t breathe in this apartment.”
“Pack a bag. You’re coming to the penthouse,” Jocelyn decided. She stood and pulled Carmen up with her.
“I can’t intrude on you and Gaston,” Carmen protested weakly. “You’re newlyweds.”
“Gaston won’t mind. We have ten guest rooms. And Aaden is there — he’ll be thrilled to see you.”
While Carmen went to the bedroom to throw things into a suitcase, Jocelyn texted Gaston.
Bringing a guest. Prepare the whiskey. Quentin is history.
A moment later, his reply came through.
Justin is here too. He needed to discuss a security matter for his campaign. This should be interesting.
Jocelyn stared at the screen.
Justin. The man who watched Carmen as though she were a ghost he had been chasing for years. The man who was currently staying in the penthouse.
Out of the frying pan, Jocelyn thought, and straight into the fire.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime that sounded far too cheerful for the mood inside the car. The ride up to the penthouse had been silent — a vacuum where the only sound was Carmen’s ragged breathing.
Jocelyn stepped out first, her hand firmly on Carmen’s elbow. Carmen stumbled, her heels catching on the plush foyer rug. She looked like a painting left out in the rain. Her mascara had dissolved into black rivers running down her cheeks, her blouse was buttoned wrong, and she clutched her purse to her chest as though it were the only thing keeping her together.
.