Oh, God. This is all just too much. I think I’m going to be sick.

Ignoring the nausea that threatens, I reply to Whitney, refraining from calling her every whorish name I can think of. Talk about a dead giveaway that she’s not texting with Violet.

Send it to me. We’ll come by later.

“Give me my phone back,” Violet demands, holding out her hand.

I send her a withering stare. “No.” Tapping my foot, I’m instantly relieved when Whitney responds quickly with the address. I copy the text and send it to my number before I hand the phone back to Violet. “Fine. Here.”

She reads back over the texts I sent, my conversation with Whitney, then glances up at me. “What are you doing, Rose?”

“I’m going to that party,” I say determinedly, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder. “I have to know what’s going on.”

“This isn’t the way to go about it.”

I start for the door. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Me breaking up with Caden?”

“You’re going to break up with him?” she asks.

The hope in her voice is clear. And that kills me. I’ve always wanted her approval for everything I’ve ever done. Violet’s opinion has always mattered.

But I’m not going to end a relationship with a guy I care about because she thinks he’s bad for me. Maybe he’s not. Maybe he could change for me.

Classic, stupid way to think, Rose.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know yet,” I admit, reaching out to grasp the door handle. My hand is shaking, I’m so upset, and I grip the handle tight, trying to control my nerves. “I’m sure I’ll tell you all about it. Eventually.” Maybe.

Maybe not.

Without another word I open the door and exit her office, making my escape.

Headed straight into the unknown.

Chapter Twenty-one

Caden

The party is insane and it’s not even five o’clock. There have to be almost one hundred people crammed into Mitchell’s parents’ massive Belgrave Square townhouse. Music is pumping through the whole-house sound system and the kitchen is overtaken with every type of liquor imaginable. The place is a mess, empty glasses and beer bottles and cans everywhere, empty platters where appetizers once sat. Tiny red stirring straws and crumpled napkins and cigarette butts litter the floor.

The Landerses would absolutely shit if they witnessed the destruction happening in their London home. I kick a plastic champagne glass out of my path with a sneer. Hell, the mess disgusts me, and it’s not even my place.

There are more women than men in attendance and they’re all gorgeous. They all happen to be scantily clad as well. How Mitchell made that happen I’m not exactly sure, but I can assume it took a huge outlay of cash to convince the women to come here. At the very least, a most excellent array of drugs and alcohol was probably offered, and that’ll draw just about anyone to a party.

I know that’s why Whitney’s here. She loves a party, especially one with plenty of cocaine and vodka. Those are her weaknesses. They used to be mine, too, before I stopped partying.

The minute Whitney arrived, she came running for me, a giant smile on her face. She deposited herself in my lap, holding out her cell phone in front of us and shouting, “Selfie!” before she snapped a pic, pressing her lips to my cheek at the last second.

Fucking annoying. I shoved her off my lap and told her to delete the photo but she took off running, giggling like a madwoman. I could almost feel sorry for her and her total lack of direction. Almost.

I’m skulking near the front door, lingering in the foyer and ready to make a run for it, when I hear Mitchell call my name. I turn to find him smiling at me, a girl under each beefy arm.

Mom wasn’t too far off when she called him pudgy. He’s still carrying extra weight around the middle, but he’s somehow grown into it. He’s broad like a tank and of average height and looks, but the guy is bleeding money. Since he arrived in London he’s been a partying fool. I know this because he filled me in on all the dirty details when I first arrived. We chatted for a while before everyone started to show up, and I somehow got stuck here.

But I’m ready to go, ready to head back to Covent Garden and the hotel and my girl. I have only two more nights with her and I need to make the most of them.

“Where you going, Kingsley?” he asks, squeezing the girls close to him. They giggle and smile, one of them flashing me a sultry look. “I brought entertainment just for you.”

“They look far more interested in you, Mitch.” I smirk when he glares at hearing his hated nickname. I’ve told him time and again that Mitchell makes him sound like an uptight asshole, but he doesn’t agree.

“Nah. This one likes you a lot. She told me.” He shoves the one who made eyes at me forward, earning a grumble from her before she smiles up at me. She’s cute, her tits are barely covered, and her legs are long. I don’t feel a thing for her. Not even a twitch of appreciation.

Seeing this girl only makes me miss Rose.

“Sorry. Not interested.” I shrug.

Her smile fades and she narrows her eyes. From pretty to mean, just like that. “Fuck you,” she spits out before she turns on her heel and leaves with a flounce.

“Classy,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Where do you find them, Mitch?”

“I’ll catch up with you later, okay, sweetheart?” Mitchell kisses the other girl on the forehead and shoves her out of his arms. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, and offers him a soft smile before she walks away. He turns to me, making a soft tsking noise. “You broke that girl’s heart, Caden. That’s why she’s so hostile. Have you lost all your finesse or what?”