She headed straight for the doors, ignoring the staff who whisked them open for her. If she hadn’t been pregnant, her first stop would have been the bar.
As it was, she stopped by the desk and put in a request for a meal. Since she couldn’t drink, she was going to eat. Fortunately for her temper, morning sickness had finally picked a time of day—the morning. So she was going to pig out on something terrible to eat and top it off with ice cream.
Maybe it would help burn off this temper.
She doubted it, but she was still going to try.
***
Sebastien had accepted Evie’s offer for one reason and one only. So he wouldn’t be tempted to go up to the hotel room with Marin. She’d been feeling better, anybody could see that.
If he’d gone up with her . . .
Since he didn’t want to cross the lines he’d drawn for himself, he’d accepted Evie’s offer. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look he’d seen in Marin’s eyes when he opened her car door, but he’d long ago figured out that while he thought he knew Marin Lassiter fairly well, he would never understand her.
Evie settled back in the seat while tension hummed in the air. Before she could say anything to break the silence—and he could hear it coming—he reached out and punched a button on the dashboard. When the automated voice came up, he gave Evie a quick smile. Gimme a minute, okay?
She smiled back, shifting to face him.
“Call Dash,” he told the voice.
The voice operated system was quiet a moment and then it asked, “Call Zach?”
“No.” Rolling his eyes, he said, “Call Dash. Dash Harlow.”
After another pause, the voice offered, “Say one after the tone, if you’d like to call Zach. Say two if you’d like me to call Mom at home. Say three—”
“You stupid piece of shit.” Irritated, he picked up his phone and held it out to Evie who was laughing at this point. “Can you find his number in my contacts?”
A minute later, Dash’s voice was coming through the speakers, although Sebastien could barely hear him. What was he doing?
“Hey, Seb . . . what are you up to, man?”
“I could say the same to you.” Irritated but determined not to show it, he asked, “Have you talked to Marin?”
“What . . . oh, yeah. She sent a . . .” There was another voice, followed by Dash’s again. “Hold on a minute, okay?”
Sebastien clenched his teeth, the grip he had on his anger becoming more strained by the minute. When Dash finally came back on the line, it was notably quieter and Dash sounded a little less distracted. “You there?” the other man asked.
“Yeah. I never went anywhere. You able to talk without . . . distraction now?”
“Oh, yeah. There weren’t any distractions anyway. Save for the noise.”
Sebastien might have believed him if it hadn’t been for the voice. A low, male voice. And that wouldn’t have stood out, except for the fact that Dash was bi. The voice cut off abruptly and Dash was level and calm when he said, “You asked about Marin—yeah, I talked to her. She said she had a spell, but you got her to the hotel and she’s fine. Was there anything else?”
“No. I just . . . well, I figured you’d want to know.” Because he didn’t want Dash saying something that would end up all over the set, he added, “Anyway, Evie is in the car with me. We’re heading out to get some food, but you know how Marin gets. Stubborn and all.”
A taut few seconds passed and then Dash said, “She’s fine, Sebastien. We spoke not that long ago, okay?”
So why aren’t you there with her instead of out at some club?
Because that’s where Dash was, he knew it.
“Okay.” He didn’t punch the console like he wanted. Wouldn’t have done anything except hurt his hand. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
He cut off the call before Dash’s response came through and looked over at Evie.
She stroked a hand up his arm. “So . . . now that you’ve done the nice guy thing, how about we go do something not so . . . nice?”
He came to a stop at a red light and Evie undid her seat belt, leaning over to murmur in his ear. Any red-blooded man worth his salt would have been all over that idea.
“So . . . what do you think?”
Chapter Fourteen
The sound of a fist pounding hard and heavy against the door brought Marin out of a deep, dreamless sleep.
Dazed, she looked around, her eyes landing on the clock on the nightstand, staring at it in confusion.
“What the hell?”
Another knock.
Confused, she stared at the numbers glowing in front of her. It was two in the fricking morning. Why would somebody wake her up at two a.m.?
But the fist pounded on her door again.