Page 21 of Billionaire In Vegas

"I can barely stomach you when I’m sober so I’m sure drunk me was a real peach.”

“You’re less of a drab, self-pitying shrew when you’re drunk.”

God, I wanted to hit him again.

“Pity? You want to talk about pity? I only had drinks with you because I pitied you. I said to myself, ‘What type of guy goes to Vegas alone and follows his dad’s assistant around?’ A loser, that’s who,” I said, stomping further into my room. I tried to close the door and he caught it. He looked angry. I determinedly didn’t back down from his glare and met it head on.

“Oh, that’s rich, so I’m the loser? That makes me just your type then. That’s your specialty, losers, right? Date a loser to make yourself feel better so that you don’t have to deal with your own shortcomings and insecurities. When are you going to stop being a scared little girl and grow up?”

“You’re one to talk, a washed-up soccer player living off of daddy’s money, too busy whoring to hold down a real job. Yeah, you’re definitely one to talk.”

“That’s what you think of me?”

“Wrong. I don’t think about you at all.”

“Funny, that’s not what you said last night.”

Bits and pieces of our night together between the sheets flashed across my mind. I felt embarrassment starting to replace my anger, but I needed my anger, otherwise Jude would know just how much last night’s events had unnerved me.

“Last night I was drunk. You got me drunk.” My accusation was false. I remembered ordering more and more drinks at the bar. It had all been my doing and I remember distinctly that Jude had told me to slow down and I had scoffed at him and yelled, “We’re in Vegas, baby!”

He called me out on my lie. “That’s bull and you know it.”

Angrily, I tried to shut the door again and he caught it.

“Just leave me alone!”

“Trust me, Lacey, I would love to, but we need to talk.”

“I havenothing to say to you. And I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me.” I was ready to cry and I needed him to go away. I wanted to be alone with my feelings. I couldn’t handle being around him now. And so in a last ditch effort, I got mean.

“Get out. I don’t want to see you again. I made a mistake. I felt sorry for you so I made a mistake. Leave me alone.”

“Sorry for me, huh?” I could hear the hurt in his voice, but I couldn’t back down now. Apparently, I didn’t need to. He was done fighting with me.

Without another word, he turned around and walked away, tossing something down on the chair as he did. He disappeared through the door and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was painful to watch. Why were you so mean? It was just a one-night stand. Been there, done that.” Misha said picking up whatever Jude had tossed down.

I ignored her question and asked about Emmaline. “She’s not up yet? She’s normally up before us.”

“She had a late night too. You two losers pretty much ditched me at the same time. I caught a taxi and sat here and ate chocolate all night. You guys made me feel so good about myself...” her voice trailed off as she turned her attention to the papers in her hand.

“Late night? Seriously... like with a man?” I was surprised. As far as I knew, Emmaline hadn’t dated anyone since Colin.

Misha didn’t answer and instead seemed to be focused on whatever was in her hand. “Umm... you might need to sit down for this.”

“What is it?” I asked warily. Something about her tone made me reluctant to learn the answer.

I sat down next to her and realized she was holding photos. I peered closer and realized that they were pictures of me and Jude.

And Jude had been right, I had been all over him, as he smiled widely into the camera. I looked so happy. I was smiling in some of the pics, kissing him in others and then in the last pic, I was beaming as I held up my hand to the camera.

Something about my hand was different. I stared at the pic, not understanding what I saw there. And then my lack of understanding turned into disbelief. I was wearing a ring. I didn’t wear rings and the ring on my finger in the picture was not just any type of ring; it was clearly a wedding band.

“Misha?” I said. “Please tell me that’s not a ring.”

She was staring at my hand now. “That’s definitely a ring. Same ring you were wearing in the picture. It looks like a wedding band, Lacey.”

I swallowed hard and removed the ring. “Misha? What did I do?”

“This,” she said handing me the last remaining paper in her hand.

I studied it for a second, looked around for a garbage can, and promptly threw up.