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He could see the mixture of confusion and pain on her face, and it only heightened his confusion.
Damn Dillon.
He had her under a tighter hold than Gavin could’ve ever imagined. “He makes you think it’s your fault, Emily,” he replied, the words spoken low but unwavering. “And I’m not worried about his friendship right now. I don’t think I ever was. I’m worried about you—you, Emily—not him.”

Shaking her head, she continued to cry, barely managing a breath in between. Gavin rose to his feet and settled himself on the couch next to her. Placing a pillow on his lap, he gently pulled her down and rested her head against it. He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t resist. The woman that he’d come to know was broken—torn to pieces by a man who saw through her weaknesses. Weaknesses he used against her with every chance he got. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or possibly hours—Gavin didn’t know—but he sat there stroking Emily’s hair until she fell asleep. With bloodshot eyes, Gavin watched as her chest rose and fell peacefully. As each one of those seconds, minutes, or possible hours passed, Gavin knew—and not for the sake of what he wanted for him and Emily, but for the sake of Emily alone—he needed to get her away from Dillon.

Chapter Fifteen

Letting It All Go

The cold infinite October sky held an unobstructed view of a full harvest moon as Emily and Olivia stepped out from their building. Pulling in a deep breath, Emily stared at the twinkling stars spreading across the backdrop of towering buildings. She longed for this season. The air, although crisp, managed to warm her, reminding her of Colorado.

Home.

If there was ever a time in her life that she felt she needed her mother, it was right now.

“We look amazing, chick,” Olivia trilled, waving a taxi over. “My mother always says the best money spent is money spent on hair, makeup, and nails for an evening like this.”

Before Emily could agree, a sleek black limousine pulled up in front of them. The chauffeur stepped out, and Emily recalled that he’d driven them out to Gavin’s home in the Hamptons.

“Good evening, Miss Martin,” the gray-haired plump gentleman said to Olivia. “Please forgive my tardiness this evening. The city has quite a few blocks closed down for repairs that I was unaware of.”

“Hey, Marcus,” Olivia replied with a smile, walking over to him. “Did that sneaky bastard send you?”

“Yes, Miss Martin. Mr. Blake told me to arrive at six o’clock sharp for you and Miss Cooper. Again, I apologize for being late.”

“Hell, I love surprises. I figured we were hailing a taxi over to the party,” Olivia laughed and then turned to Emily. “Apparently, Mr. Blake sees fit to shower things he desperately wants in only the best…because he’s never sent one
before
.”

Emily shook her head and slipped into the limousine.

After getting themselves comfortable, Olivia popped the top off of a bottle of champagne, pouring them both a glass. “Has Dinkerbell called you again today?”

“Dinkerbell?”

“Yeah, like Tinkerbell. Did he call you again?”

“That’s a new one,” Emily sighed. “What do you think?”

“Well, I figured he might’ve gotten the point already since you haven’t taken his calls,” she shrugged. “And no flowers came to the apartment today, so I assumed he’d finally given up.”

Emily knew it wasn’t in Dillon to just give up that easily. “Right, maybe not to the apartment, but he sent them to Bella Lucina today while I was working.”

“Shut up,” Olivia let out, her eyes wide. “How many this time?”

Emily considered her over the rim of her glass. “Let’s just say there was enough for Antonio to decorate each table and the entire bar area, and he had an extra dozen leftover to bring home to his girlfriend.”

Draining the last of her drink, Olivia leaned back in her seat, her expression soft. “Well, I’m proud of you for not giving in to him. But, in all honesty, I hope you stick to your guns when he finally gets back from Florida. When I spoke to Trevor earlier, he said all the idiot’s been talking about while they’ve been down there is how he’s determined to get you back.”

Emily looked out the window, her eyes taking in the glittering lights of the city. As she watched them go by, she thought about how much she felt like a victim of a violent crash—so battered and bruised. Although she had no broken bones and no pierced skin, her heart bled internally from the wounds inflicted by Dillon. The words he said to her kept running through her head, stinging just as much now as when he first had said them.

She couldn’t deny she did indeed feel guilty for causing the whole situation. She also knew that she could’ve prevented what’d happened. Regardless, she wouldn’t cave to him. She couldn’t. She made sure to send every call he made straight to voicemail. He even went as far as calling the elementary school she worked at. She ignored those messages as well. However, her biggest surprise was when his mother showed up at her apartment unexpected, unannounced, and quite pissed. Emily cut the visit short by slamming the door in her face upon her arrival.

“It’s apparent I have to speak with him when he gets back,” Emily sighed. “I can’t just end it with him without closure.”

“Why not? He doesn’t deserve any kind of closure from you, Em.”

“I’m not talking about his closure, Olivia. I need closure of my own.” Emily tossed back the rest of her champagne and promptly refilled her glass. “No matter how you slice and dice it, he did a lot for me and my family. I know he was wrong for what he did, but he was drunk, and that’s something I need to take into consideration.”

Olivia glared at her from across the limousine. “You’re falling right back into his trap again.”

“How am I falling into his trap, Olivia? He’s not even here.”

She started tapping her temple. “Right, he’s in that brain of yours like a little fungus. My brother gets hammered and doesn’t freak out on Fallon.” Olivia leaned over and poured herself a second glass of champagne. “I’ve dated plenty of guys who got smashed, and they didn’t pull the shit that he pulled with you. I’m sure you’ve had ex-boyfriends that didn’t do that either.”

“I didn’t really date that much before Dillon,” Emily shrugged. “I really have nothing to compare it to.”

Olivia’s face creased with confusion. “Why would you need something to compare it to, Em? End of fucking story—drunk or sober, low or high, mad or happy—a guy’s not supposed to place a hand on a woman. Ever.”

Taking a sip of her champagne, Emily looked away.

“I’m not kidding, Emily. You may think that what your father did to your mom is the norm, but it’s not, friend. It’s far from it.” Swallowing hard at the memory, Emily brought her attention back to Olivia. “I suggest you rid yourself of needing closure from that asshole because he’s just like your dad. Box up the shit he has at our apartment, and I’ll have my brother get your stuff from Douche’s place.” Crossing her legs under her red silk gown, she added, “Thank God you hadn’t signed a lease on that apartment you two found.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore tonight,” Emily said, her voice teetering between frustration and pleading. “I want to enjoy one evening without thinking about this whole mess with Dillon. Please, Olivia?”

“Okay, but I’m back on your ass come tomorrow then.”

Emily let out a sigh and nodded. “That’s fine.”

Five minutes later, the limousine pulled up to the St. Regis hotel. Marcus opened the door for the women, and each slipped out onto the sidewalk, thanking him for the ride. Pulling her shawl over her shoulders, Emily locked arms with Olivia, and they made their way into the lobby.

After Olivia checked her coat, they floated into the expansive ballroom where the fundraiser was in full swing. Music from a live band hummed through the air while white-gloved waiters traveled the room with flutes of champagne and caviar. The whimsical space held vaulted cloud-dappled ceilings highlighting gilt chandeliers. Soft, pale pink lights, honoring the color of breast cancer awareness, made the white silk material draping the tables look like cascading waterfalls. Beautiful pink roses and carnations sprayed up from glittering mounds of hydrangeas in the center of each table.

The second Emily made her way into the ballroom, her eyes found Gavin’s. She also found she had to remind herself how to breathe. A smile broke out across his face as she watched him excuse himself from a group of men he was speaking with. Not only did Emily focus on him as he strolled across the space, but she noticed that the eyes of every other woman in the room also gravitated to him. Young, old, tall, short, black, or white—women couldn’t help but stare. He looked amazing, wearing an Armani tux that was tailored to perfection. Sliding his hand through his hair, he crossed the room with a stride that was sexy, powerful, and strong.

Olivia leaned in to hug him when he approached. “Thank you for sending the limo for us,” she paused, cocking a mischievous brow while she laughed. “Well, not for
us
, but either way, it was a nice gesture.”

Shaking her head, Emily smiled, feeling a blush creep across her face.

“Of course I sent it for you both,” he laughed. “I just never thought to send one before.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Blake,” Olivia replied, her voice holding playful skepticism. Gavin laughed again. He knew she was onto him. “Where are your parents? I wanna say hello to them.”

“They’re over there,” he answered, gesturing to a table in the center of the room.

“Cool, I’ll catch up with you two in a bit.” And, with that, Olivia skirted her way through the party in the direction of Chad and Lillian.

Turning to face Emily, Gavin’s eyes slowly languished over every inch of her body. God, she looked exquisite in every way possible—a princess among peasants in the room. It was all he could do to catch a decent breath. A black, strapless velvet gown, accentuating her cleavage, flowed to the ground, hugging her subtle curves like a fitted glove. His gaze swept past a diamond choker, ignoring its sparkle, and fixated instead on the startling fullness of her lips that glistened ruby red. Tiny diamond pins held her hair up with only a few tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. Smoky hues of gray shimmered over her eyelids as her beautiful emerald eyes locked onto his icy blues.

Trying to compose himself, Gavin reached for her hand and regally lifted it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it. “Words fail to describe the way you look this evening.”

Emily smiled sheepishly. “Thank you,” she breathed out, grasping onto her clutch. “You look great, too.”

“Why, thank you.” He smiled. “Shall we?”

With mild trepidation, she nodded, as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

He led her across the room, pausing briefly to engage in conversations with some of the guests who stopped him. Along the way, he introduced Emily to a few of the families that his mother’s foundation had helped over the years. Their smiling faces showed their gratitude in every way possible. Among the guests were some of New York’s leading breast cancer researchers, organizations, and a few politicians whose families had been affected by the disease. With the subject hitting so close to home, Emily felt awestruck at the generosity Gavin and his family extended to those in need.

“Emily, you remember my brother, Colton, and his wife, Melanie,” Gavin said, pulling out a chair for her.

Nodding, Emily reached across the table and shook their hands. “I do. It’s nice seeing you both again.”

“You, too,” Melanie replied. “My children have actually asked for you quite a few times.”

Emily smiled. “They have?”

Draping his arm over the back of Melanie’s chair, Colton answered, “They sure have. They said you’re the best soccer player in the world.”

“That’s too funny,” Emily laughed. “Well, tell them I said hello. I’ll have to muster up another soccer game with them.”

Gavin smirked and took a seat next to Emily. “Don’t let her fool you. If I recall, I’m the one who taught you how to play soccer.” Looking at her, he shot her a wink.

Emily smiled and shook her head.

“Ah, yes, brother-in-law, take all the credit.” Melanie laughed, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Emily, be forewarned that all the males in the Blake family try to take credit for anything they can.” Emily quirked a brow in Gavin’s direction, and he laughed. “But, for right now, this Blake
woman
is about to take credit for teaching her husband how to dance.” Melanie rose from her seat and reached for Colton’s hand. “Aren’t I right, sweetie?”

Standing up, Colton curled his arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her head. “I have two left feet, so yes, I’ll give you credit for trying to teach me how to dance.”

“Don’t fall flat on your ass, brother,” Gavin yelled out as the couple moved to the dance floor.

Colton turned around, effectively flipping the bird in Gavin’s direction.

“Hmm, do I sense sibling rivalry?” Emily asked.

“All-out sibling rivalry,” he answered, motioning one of the waiters over. “I revel in any chance I get to make him look like a clown.”

“You’re too much,” she laughed.