"Is he in there?" Merina asked as she walked out of the elevator.
"He's in his suite, but—"
Merina held up a hand. Part of her flooded with relief that he was here and safe.
Bobbie called after her, offering to phone Reese's room, but Merina refused. He'd ignored her for the entire weekend. She wouldn't be ignored any longer.
Real marriage or not, she deserved to know why he was hiding.
Leaving the office behind, she stepped into a corridor that opened to the only suite on this floor. She'd never been inside but had known it was here. The idea of what he'd spent his nights doing before he and Merina were "together" and who he'd spent them with made her stomach burn.
A pair of double doors with gold handles split the corridor in half. No doubt locked, but maybe she'd get lucky.
The square button on the handle depressed as her thumb brushed it. She jerked away when the door swung inward. Then she froze, her heart thundering and her stomach sinking. A lithe redhead came out, eyes and nose red, tears streaking her makeup.
Gwyneth.
Not a single encouraging thought ran through her mind at the sight of Reese's ex-girlfriend leaving his private suite. Especially when Reese came into focus over Gwyneth's shoulder, wearing nothing but boxers and tugging a T-shirt over his head.
No, no, no.
The look on his face when he saw Merina was placid acceptance. Not shock, not anger. His hands were resting on his hips as if challenging her to walk in and give him hell.
Gwyneth muttered, "Excuse me," but Merina barely registered her slipping out. At the threshold of Reese's room, she stood as he waited inside, their eyes locked in challenge.
Behind him, his bedsheets were tangled. White sheets like in the photograph Gwyneth had shared on Twitter.
Don't go there.
Merina needed to leave. As soon as she was able to tear her eyes off him and turn on her heel, she'd march out of the hotel. Just as soon as her brain made sense of the scene she'd walked into. Right now, nothing was computing.
Before she could, he spoke, his tone even. His words weren't even all that surprising.
"I want a divorce."
Instead of turning, she rushed into the room, unsure what she'd do when she reached him. When her hand came up to slap his face, he caught her wrist.
"You…chickenshit!" Tears flooded her eyes, and then she crumbled. Giving in to the feelings of hope and devastation she'd been trying to pretend hadn't existed for the last week plus.
She tugged her arm but he held fast.
"Merina."
"Fucking idiot!" she managed through a hot stream of tears. He said her name again and she stopped struggling.
A reporter from the Spread somehow gained access to your parents' party. They ran a post with a photo of us standing apart, speculating that we weren't getting along." His hold loosened, but he didn't let her go. "It would be unwise not to use this as momentum. The announcement of a divorce would be a logical next step."
Logical. Why did that word hurt more than the others?
"So this is out of convenience?" Or had he sabotaged what they had, burned it right to the ground? That theme kept making an appearance in her life.
"Ironic how the press ended up being our ally," he said.
He was too calm. Too controlled.
"Gwyneth looked upset." Mimicking his cold tone, Merina shook her arm from his grip. He ran a hand through his hair, perfectly disheveled. There was a time not so long ago she'd made a mess of his hair. Now the only mess was the one he'd made of her.
"She was upset," he said. He snatched a pair of jeans lying across the bed and slid into them. "What are you doing here?" He zipped up, then fastened his belt.
Sabotaging. Most definitely. He wanted her to believe he and Gwyneth had slept together but Merina wasn't that stupid. He was pushing her away. Drawing those steel shutters down tight and cowering behind them.
He was broken, all right. But she wasn't going to let him sit here in pieces while she had to go out into the world stitched together.
"You never came home," she pointed out.
"No." He tucked his hands into his pockets and just…stood there.
"Are you seriously not going to explain this?" She gestured around the room, taking in the state of it for the first time. Messy. Reese wasn't messy. There was a room service tray pushed off to the side, the remains of a steak on a plate. One plate. More evidence he'd spent the evening alone. There were dirty coffee mugs littering his desk and his wrinkled suit was a draped over a chair. "What's going on with you?"
"Don't."
She didn't heed his advice. If he was pushing her, then she would push him back. It was risky, but she'd bet the part he was hiding was the part of him that felt something for her.
Was it possible she could get through one final time? For good?
She came close, breasts brushing his T-shirt-covered chest. He seemed to will himself to stand still instead of run the other direction.
"You look like shit," she said, truly seeing him for the first time. He didn't look sexily rumpled from rolling around in bed with his ex. He looked exhausted. Spent. Like he hadn't slept in two nights. His normally perfect scruff bordered on scraggly.
"I'm fine."
"No." She shook her head slowly. "You're not." But she could see, even in his worn-out state, that he'd made a decision and the decision was final. He was backing out of their marriage sooner rather than later. He was done. "You're quitting. Despite what you feel. Despite what you know."
"It's better we do this now before your parents make any further holiday plans."
Crack!
He hadn't seen it coming, so when her hand finally connected with a sharp slap to his cheek, he looked stunned, then furious. He lashed both her wrists with his hands and yanked her against his body.
"Leave before I have you thrown out." His lip curled, but the anger in his eyes wasn't all anger. There was something else in there. Heat and loss and want.
"I love you, you idiot," she said, tears welling as she saw fear etch into Reese's tired face. Fear so prevalent, she could practically taste it.
"Gwyneth and Hayes are getting a divorce," he said.