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Diana
My pounding eyes fluttered open and the mother of all hangovers draped over my entire body. I groaned and rolled back over, feeling the silky soft sheets slide across my naked form. I heard giggling and talking out in the main room. I heard doors opening and closing. I heard deep voices and gravelly words before the sounds of very gross kissing. I barely remembered the night before, but two things stuck out gravely in my mind as it pounded in anger.
I remembered the two guys, and I remembered Ethan.
A knock came at my door and I sighed. I tossed the covers back over my face and prayed for whoever it was to go away. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled up tightly, trying to get the pain in my limbs to subside.
“Diana?”
“What, Harper?”
“Going back to bed.”
“Then go back to bed and leave me alone,” I said.
“Fine. Damn.”
I heard Harper struggle to get herself back into bed, but I didn’t feel as relieved as I should have felt. With the guys finally gone, I should have felt better. But, I didn’t. The only thing coursing through my mind was Ethan and his anger. His face. The disapproval and the shock and the hurt that had been evident in his eyes. He left last night thinking I was nothing but a drunken whore. And when I called after him—stumbled after him onto the sidewalk—he didn’t even turn around. Didn’t give me a second glance. Didn’t care to look at me, be around me, or have anything to do with me.
Everything had gone sideways, and I was done trying to figure out why.
Last night was foggy, at best. I remember lights. And smog. But that was about it, other than my encounter with Ethan. Fuck. He had found me again. Came after me again. Even after the job was done. Even when he could have simply relayed a message to me through Ollie, since he knew where I was. No, he decided to come in person, and I knew Ethan. I knew it wasn’t simply to deliver the news that the case was over.
It was for something else.
Holy shit. Wait a second. The case was over?
I powered through the pain in my head and tossed the covers off my body. I ripped my bedroom door open and stumbled out to Ollie’s landline. I closed my eyes and mentally scrolled through my contacts. I watched my finger press down onto my father’s name. I tried to freeze the frame in my mind so I could recall the number of his government-issued cell phone, but it took me a few tries before I finally got the number right.
However, when I did, he picked up on the first ring.
“Senator Logan speaking.”
“Daddy?” I asked.
“Diana! God, Diana. Where are you?”
“I’m in New York City, Dad. I’m okay,” I said.
“I can’t believe you ran off again. Why in the world did you do that, sweetheart?”
I closed my eyes and leaned against the floor-to-ceiling windows. My father’s voice sounded lighter than it had been in months. Years, even. He sounded like the man I once knew.
“Is it really over?” I asked.
“How did you know about that?”
“Ethan came to tell me last night. Is it true? Is all of this finally over?”
“Yes, honey. It’s over. We’ve dealt with the people who were threatening us, and we’re free of them. Completely.”
I sighed as my hand fell over my heart.
“When are you coming back to D.C.?” he asked.
Slowly, I turned and gazed out at the morning sunrise over the city.
“I’m not sure, honestly,” I said.
“I want you home, sweetheart.”
“That’s just the thing though, Dad. Being home with you is stifling. And stunting me.”
“I don’t understand. This is your home, Diana. I want you in it.”
“No, Dad. You don’t. You want Mom in it, and I look like her. That’s why you want me there. You want that brief reminder of the fact that she existed.”
A tense silence fell over the phone as a tear dripped silently down my face.
“I’m in New York City and I’m okay. I promise. And I’ll call you again soon. That I can also promise. But I don’t know when I’m coming home. I think—”
I heard my father draw in a sharp breath as I gathered my thoughts.
“I think this is a good opportunity for me to branch out and make my own life,” I said.
“Can you at least tell me when you’ll call?” he asked.
“How about tomorrow? Same time?”
“Morning coffee together. Sounds good, sweetheart.”
“I’ll talk with you then, Daddy.”
“Diana?”
“Yeah?”
More tears trickled down my cheeks as the sunlight bathed my skin.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will, Daddy. I promise.”
Hanging up the phone, I drew in a deep breath, expecting to feel relieved. But instead, I felt sad. I should have been rejoicing that the threat was over. I should have been happy that my father wanted me home and back underneath his money-lined wing. But, I wasn’t. My heart hurt. My head hurt. My feet hurt. And my soul felt empty. Like a gaping hole had been left where my soul used to be. There was no reason for Ethan to see me again. I had missed my shot with the one man that had fully captivated me, and our last moments together were of me making an ass out of myself yet again. Maybe I didn’t deserve him. Maybe he was right.
Maybe I was nothing but a brat that couldn’t hold her life together.
I set the phone back into its cradle and dragged myself into the bathroom. I needed a shower. A long, hot, steaming shower. I stood underneath the water and washed myself down, going through the motions but not really registering them. I smoothed the conditioner out of my hair and prepared myself to get out, but I didn’t move. I asked my legs to move. I asked my arms to move. But they didn’t. They simply hung there, drenched in the hot water and begging for more.
So, I gave them what they wanted.
I stood there until the water ran cold.
I dried off and cleaned myself up, not bothering to put on makeup. I was just going to cry it off anyway. I pulled on some leggings and a baggy shirt, making myself look like the shit I felt like on the inside. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Like I was pulling my body through gallons and gallons of cold Jell-O. I made my way to the kitchen and poured myself a tall glass of water, then chugged it back before I poured another.
And when I finished my second one, I heard the elevator ding.
I wondered if Harper was leaving after being buried all night in a pile of masculine limbs. Part of me wanted her to leave. Actually, more than part of me wanted her to leave. I wanted to be alone. To wallow in my self-pity and cry until I couldn't cry any longer. I put the glass into the stainless-steel sink and padded into the hall. My eyes widened when I saw who had stepped off the elevator.
It was Ollie.
And he was carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
“There’s my beautiful date,” he said, grinning.
He walked towards me, his eyes raking down my body before he handed over the flowers.
“These are for you,” he said.
I mechanically took them into my arms as I watched two people scrambling behind him.
“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” I asked.
Ollie took the flowers from me and led me into the kitchen.
“We have our date tonight. The fundraiser. Remember?” he asked.
I watched him put the flowers into a vase before carrying them into my bedroom. My eyes followed him, and so did my body. But my mind was elsewhere. Holy hell. I’d forgotten all about the charity event. About the tailored dress hanging in the closet for me to wear tonight.
“No worries, beautiful. We have a few hours to get ready. And I’ve got an afternoon full of pampering for you,” Ollie said.
He turned and smiled at me before his hands guided me out of the bedroom and into the main living room. The buzzer beside the door rang out into the room, and I watched as Ollie pressed it down and told whoever it was on the other side to come up. There was a stool set up near some bright lights and a vanity full of makeup sprawled out. The other technician was set up in a corner, with what looked like a collapsible salon chair and a smaller vanity with all of the things anyone could have needed to style hair.
Then, another woman came through the door with trunks and trunks full of items. Which I soon found out were to tend to my nails in any way I desired.
“Oh, you picked this dress. Beautiful. I cannot wait to see it on you,” Ollie said.
I panned my gaze over to the entrance of the hallway and he came out with the crimson red dress I had picked from the rack of clothes he sent my way. It had been hanging up in the closet.
He went through my closet?
Well, I guess it wasn't really my closet. None of this was mine. The only thing I really wanted was out of my grasp now.
None of this mattered anymore.
“Oh, I know exactly what hairstyle we’re doing with that dress. And that slit up the side? Honey. We’re piling this beautiful hair on top of your head so everyone can focus on your other assets.”
The hairstylist clucked around me, guiding me to the chair he had set up. He turned my chair towards the view of New York City, but I looked past it instead of at it. All of these people were here to help me get gussied up for some fundraising event I didn’t even want to attend. But it was out of my control, and it didn’t matter anymore. All I could do was go with it.
What else was I going to do if I didn’t?
“I’m going to fix you up nicely. Once we get this hair dried. Did you condition this morning?”
“Yes,” I said monotonously.
“Great. Did you deep condition?”
“No.”
“Wonderful. Do you have highlights?”
“No.”
“Perfection. Then, we’ll get started.”
But all I wanted it to do was end.
