Chapter 4 Noah

Noah

I’ve spent the last two days sitting in my dark apartment, drinking until I can’t feel anything anymore.

But it hasn’t worked, because I still feel every emotion that was written on Olivia’s face when she found me in the bathroom with the condom and the needle. Betrayal, disgust, the ultimate pain. I hated myself for inflicting pain on her like that. I swore I’d never hurt her. I meant every word of those vows I said to her that day on the beach. But now those words mean something even more.

Olivia isn’t just my crush anymore, the girl I wanted to play house with. She’s become my everything. She’s the woman who’s won me over against all odds . . .

And I’m just the douche who betrayed her.

“You realize what this means, right?” Sterling asks.

“What?” I snap. I’m not even sure why I invited him over. All he’s done so far is annoy me.

Oh, that’s right. I didn’t invite him. After I’d gone AWOL from work for two days, he bullied his way inside the penthouse, saying he was staging an intervention.

“The only reason you’re so upset over this is because you’re in love with her.”

I measure his words, turning them over in my mind. I don’t want to even think the L-word.

Not when she’s gone and I have no idea if I stand a chance at getting her back. Instead, I just insist, “I’m not upset.”

He chuckles. “No, you’re right. You’re destroyed. Heartbroken. Utterly devastated.”

Fuck. I let out a heavy sigh, unable to argue. “What the hell did you expect to happen?” he asks. I shrug, fed up with his brand of tough love.

“Fine, then. You can give me the silent treatment all you want. But if you really love her, and I know you do, you know what you have to do, right?” When I don’t respond, he says impatiently, “Go get your girl, you stupid bloody wanker.”

If only it were that easy. I don’t know where she went, and despite calling around, I haven’t turned up any leads. She won’t answer my calls. Fred is no use. And Camryn won’t give me any information either.

“Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“So you’re giving up? Then you’re in luck. This is nothing that a couple of strippers and a bottle of whiskey can’t solve.” Sterling grins.

Even though I know he’s just trying to provoke me into action, I still make a sound of disgust. The old Noah would have handled everything in his life with debauchery, but lately, I have about as much interest in pussy that isn’t Olivia’s as I do in kissing Sterling.

“Not happening,” I bark out.

“Come off it, mate.” Sterling rolls his eyes and crosses one ankle over his knee, flashing me a bright paisley sock. “Noah fucking Tate went and got himself a wife. You wanted to pretend this wasn’t going to change anything, wanted me to believe everything would continue as before.”

“And your point?” My tolerance for his fancy British ass in my apartment lessens by the second.

“And the whole fucking world has changed, you included. You play to win, always have. As long as I’ve known you.”

I nod, defeated. The bastard is right. I’ve always played for keeps when it came to Olivia.

“So, what do I do now?”

“You’re asking me? I already gave you my two cents.” He leans his lanky six-foot- something frame against the back of my couch and smirks. “And I take it you’ve already done the ol’ drag-the-beast-from-his-lair trick.”

I scrub a hand over my face. That’s awkward. I laugh, despite my foul mood. “God, I can’t believe we actually used to do that.”

“Hey, that trick won us the Murelli twins.” His tone is the definition of authority on the subject.

“Still, don’t you think it was a little fucking juvenile that we used to pull out our cocks on a dare for girls to drool over?”

Sterling’s boyish good looks and British accent, coupled with my charm and quick wit, used to gain us all the female company we could handle. But when we were feeling frisky and needed

that extra push to close a deal, we were double trouble, whipping out the goods—each of us impressive in that department.

He smirks. “So you’re telling me you never showed her your little buddy?”

“Don’t be a dumb fuck. Of course I did.” At the bar, on our first date. Super classy of me. He laughs, the sound sharp and loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “And she still left?

Bloody hell, that’s just depressing.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s like a fucking teenager sometimes. Never been in love.

Never experienced anything like I had with Olivia.

“Her leaving had nothing to do with not being satisfied physically.” His smile fades.