Vanessa sat in her suite alone. It was hers now. Artie left her and now it was hers. The black silk lingerie, the bottles of champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries.
It was all her now.
Fuck him. She thought. She'd been ready for hours and hours of sex, more and longer than they'd ever gone before—but no. He felt the need of the warehouse was more important than her.
Part of her had wanted to punch him in the face.
Or at least stomp on his foot.
The other part had been tempted to pull Pete up with her. He'd keep her company. And piss Artie off. She could already see his thick eyebrow arching into a shape that should have been impossible for any human.
Anyone but Artie.
How could he have been so stupid? Didn't he see she loved him? Vanessa loved him more than she had loved Hugo—and that had been young stupid love if there ever was any. She swallowed the last few drops of the first bottle.
Her finger hover over the call button. A photo of Artie popped up on the screen. His smiling face. Vanessa slipped farther into the bubble bath, the bubbles covering her up to her chin.