It was going to be a fight of epic proportions.

Char cringed when the lights went off.

The table glowed.

Hell.

“Now.” The lady clapped her hands. “I’m Lola. I’ll be your pleasure consultant for the evening.” Jace choked beside her. She slapped his back and he wheezed out a “thank you”.

“To make this party more intimate, I’ve set up different tables and products in the spare bedrooms. I’ve also brought some wonderful lingerie from our romance line. Perfect for the bride!”

“Here, here!” Travis shouted.

The room filled with nervous laughter.

“Now…” Lola started at the far end of the table.

A half hour into the presentation Char was thankful the lights were turned down. Her face was probably as red as a tomato.

After the final product was displayed, Jace whispered next to her. “Does it make me less of a man to admit I didn’t know half of what she was saying?”

“No, that makes you normal,” Char said.

“Good, because I started getting worried about a quarter of the way through.”

Laughing, Char patted him on the arm, just as Jake’s eyes fell on her hand from across the room. He shook his head, lips in a firm line, and made his way down the hall.

“Any questions?” Lola asked. The lights went up.

Grandma was swaying in the middle of the room with her wine. The fight had gone out of Petunia. Either that or she was dead. Jury was still out. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back on the couch with her mouth open.

“You killed her.” Char pointed to Petunia.

“I drugged her.” Grandma did a little twirl. “She wouldn’t stop complaining about the party, so I crushed a Benadryl into her juice.”

“Grandma!” Char scolded. “That’s dangerous!’

Grandma took a long sip of her wine. “I dated a pharmacist once.”

“Doesn’t make you a pharmacist.”

“Ah, details.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Char decided not to fight that battle.

“Are you okay, dear?” Grandma’s eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Headache.” Heartache; same thing.

“I’ve got aspirin just down the hall in my room. Go grab one, they’re on my nightstand next to the Benadryl. Just be sure to take the white pill and not the pink pill. The pink pill will have you three sheets to the wind after all that wine.”

Nodding, Char walked off down the hall to grab some aspirin. Grandma’s room was on the bottom floor because she hated climbing stairs. Kacey had said that just this last year Grandma had wanted to move upstairs because she’d watched the movie Up and thought it would be fun to have one of those chairs that attaches to stairs like a ride.

She was vetoed.

With a sigh, she pushed open the door and found Jake and Amy in an embrace. Amy’s arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and she was wearing nothing but cheap lingerie from the party.

Jake pushed her away, and then saw Char.

“Do you mind?” Amy spat in Char’s direction. “We’re kind of busy here.”

“Char, wait!” Jake called, but she was already running, in platform heels no less, down the hall and out the door. 

“Damn it, Amy!” Jake yelled. “What the hell is wrong with you? I said I wasn’t interested.”

“You looked interested.” Her eyebrow arched as she tried to get close to him again.

Jake lifted his hands to stop her. “Seriously, not interested. Not now, not ever.”

“Guys like you…”

“Guys like me, what?” Jake sneered. “Finish what you were going to say.”

She licked her lips and crossed her arms. “They don’t say no.”

Jake nodded. “You’re right.”

Amy’s smile was vicious as she approached.

“I must not be that guy anymore.” He stormed out of the room in search of Char.

An hour later, he still hadn’t located her to apologize. The only damn reason he’d been in that room in the first place was because Amy had had so much to drink that he didn’t want her to ruin the party by going crazy—he’d seen her pop a few pills before her last glass of wine.

Muffling another curse, Jake made his way upstairs to get some of the oil off and to change into clothes that didn’t make him look like a poorly paid prostitute. Funny, how just a few months ago he would have been totally okay with looking like this. Now he just felt dirty, used, gross.

He’d grabbed a wet cloth and started wiping off the oil when a phone started ringing. He looked over at the nightstand. It was Char’s phone, and the screen told him the call was from her job.

She’d been ignoring her phone the whole weekend so he figured he’d just ignore it, too.

But ten minutes later, after two more missed calls, he lost his patience.

“Hello?” he snapped the minute it rang for the third time.

“Who the hell is this?” a man yelled.

“Jake Titus. Why? Who’s this?”

“Mike Cromwell. I’m your little girlfriend’s boss.”

Jake didn’t have the strength to say that they were anything but dating, and that Char was probably planning on killing him in his sleep tonight. “What can I do for you, Mike?”

“You can tell Char that she has exactly six hours to get a story to me or she’s fired.”

“A story?” Jake repeated. “Any story?”

“No, you idiot.” Mike cursed into the phone. “The wedding. She’s supposed to be covering the wedding.”

“But—”

The phone went dead.

Stunned, Jake sat on the bed, still holding the phone in his hand. So it was all about a story? She was being nice to him to get to him?

Like every other girl in the world.

Char wanted something from him, but now he wondered if the something she wanted wasn’t what he was willing to give. His body? Something snapped inside. Maybe she’d pushed him past his breaking point, but he was pissed. No, he was more than pissed. How could she do this to him? After everything he’d said to her? All they’d shared? To her, all he was worth was a flashy smile and a story. But to him? She was the world.

All the nameless faces of past conquests flashed through his mind. All the women, all the sex, all the partying… Every last female had wanted something from him, whether it was his money, his status, his bed. And Char? She’d turned out to be the worst of them all, because she’d pretended to be his friend. She’d maneuvered herself into his life so fully that the idea of purging her out was so repulsive he felt like he was going be sick. So this was what betrayal felt like? Like knives stabbing into your front and your back, an absolute loss of control over your own emotions? Right. Well, he hated it. He hated that Char had been the one to make him feel that way. He’d never expected more out of those other women because he’d known what those relationships were. They’d wanted something from him and he’d wanted something from them. All parties left satisfied. But now? He was left feeling empty, as if he’d just offered Char all of his possessions in hopes that she’d at least give him a damn hug and say “thank you” rather than run him over with the moving truck and drive off.

He hated putting her with those other women. He hated allowing her name to even be next to their names. But…

She’d ended up being just like them.

A wave of nausea overtook him as he set the phone down. With shaking hands, he ran his fingers through his hair. Char had just wanted a piece of the Jake Titus joke.

Which meant only one thing: He was getting ready to jump off the commitment cliff without a parachute.

Well, if she wanted a story, she was going to get one. No way was he going to let her blame him for losing her job.

An hour later, Char walked back into the room. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was wind-blown.

“Where’ve you been?” Jake asked. Char rolled her eyes and tried to walk back out, but Jake caught her arm and dragged her back inside. “I was worried.”