The Perfect Ruin - Page 81

Livid, Corey stormed off the dance floor and out of the room. His elbow bumped into Noah’s arm, and Noah spilled some of his drink on the floor.

I needed this distraction. I left the dance floor.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Noah asked as I walked by. He was clearly upset by the spilled drink.

“No idea. We should probably go check,” I said, and hoped Noah would decline.

“No, girl. That’s okay. I think I’m going to cling to my positive attitude and stay right in here.” He walked away to talk to Faith and Arabel and their husbands by one of the poker tables.

I left the ballroom. Corey wasn’t in the hall or the lobby, so I checked outside.

He was standing on the sidewalk, talking on his phone. “See you in a minute.” Corey lowered the phone.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” His voice was cold and standoffish.

“I’ll come with you.”

“For fucking what, Ivy? I don’t need you to come with me. Stop being so goddamn desperate.”

I blinked quickly. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said you’re being desperate. Stop following me around.” He took a step away from me.

“Stop trying to shut me out, Corey. You’re upset and I get that, but I’m here for you.”

He narrowed his eyes. He was about to say something, but a car pulled up to the curb. The driver climbed out and went around to open the back door.

Corey gave me his back and climbed into the black car. The driver looked at me, confused about whether I was included in the ride or not. I put my focus on Corey again.

“Just come on, Ivy,” Corey finally muttered, and my heart raced. I got in the car. The black leather was warm and it smelled like roses.

We rode in silence back to the Mandarin, and once we were out of the car, Corey tipped the driver and we went inside, where the heat was blowing and classical music serenaded from hidden speakers.

Corey didn’t say a word to me as we rode up the elevator. He stopped on my floor and walked out first. I opened my clutch, taking out my room key card and swiping it through the lock on the door.

I walked in and put down my phone and clutch.

Corey went to the minibar and poured himself a drink. Scotch. I should have known.

Is it bad that I was really starting to reconsider this affair with him? I didn’t realize Corey was so . . . emotional. It was obvious Lola didn’t love him all that much—that she had fallen out of love with him years ago—so why was he clinging to her like some lost puppy? Why hadn’t he fallen out of love too and tried to move on?

He could be with me, right, Marriott? Leave her, take me, and be happy? I knew I could make him happy. I had it in me. I was good at putting smiles on people’s faces, even if I had to fake it a little bit. I hated working retail, but I was good at faking that.

Corey sipped his drink and looked at me through the corner of his eye. “Come here,” he commanded.

And I did. I walked to him.

He put down his glass behind him before lifting one of his hands to grip a handful of my hair. It ripped at the root and I hissed at the sting of it.

“What are you doing?” I asked, and my heart beat harder because this felt familiar to me . . . and not in a good way.

Corey pushed me forward with his body until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed and I fell down. Then he climbed on top of me and locked a hand around my throat.

“I want you to pretend to be Lola tonight.”

“What?” I croaked. He was out of his damn mind. The last thing I wanted to be was Lola.

“Shut up,” he snarled, and he gripped my throat tighter. “I’m so sick of your shit. Flirting with that motherfucker, Eddie. Doing it in my face. Dancing with him. How is his dick, huh?”

I tried to swallow. He squeezed. “Okay—Corey, no, I don’t like this. I don’t want to be Lola.” I tried to sit up, but he forced me back down with a heavy hand.

I panicked, then, and his eyes widened. He lowered his face. “How is his dick, huh? I know it’s not bigger than mine. And you want to know how I know?” He was pushing up my dress as he asked, and one of his hands forced my legs apart. He moved my panties aside with rough fingers.

“Corey.” My voice broke.

“Just shut up.” He was working on unfastening the button of his pants. Unzipping them. His dick was hard and free. I tried to sit up again. Another hand came down on my chest, forcing me back on the bed.

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