Chapter 463 - A Terrible Morning

Chapter 463: Chapter 463 - A Terrible Morning

Something heavy was resting across her waist.

Roxie frowned in her sleep and tried to move, but the arm around her tightened. She shifted against the warm body behind her, searching for a more comfortable position, only to wince at the soreness spreading through her thighs.

God, why did everything ache?

She pulled the blanket higher and settled back against the broad chest behind her. A large hand moved lazily over her stomach before resting there again, and she sighed, letting herself relax for a few more seconds.

Then her eyes opened.

What?

She stared at the curtains, trying to remember where she was. Lake Como. The hotel. Kendall’s wedding. The champagne.

And the man breathing against the back of her neck.

Her eyes dropped to the arm around her waist.

A tattooed arm.

Oh, fuck.

Very slowly, Roxie turned her head. Dark hair, a sharp jaw, and a familiar face resting against the pillow.

Zac Prescott.

In her bed.

Holding her like they hadn’t spent the last ten years apart.

Holy fucking shit.

Her stomach dropped as memories came rushing back. The garden, their argument, the elevator, his hands on her waist outside her room, and everything that happened after she opened the door.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

What the actual fuck had she done?

One stupid kiss had somehow turned into an entire night of terrible decisions. She remembered more than enough to know she had participated enthusiastically, which only made everything worse.

She was never drinking champagne again.

Roxie carefully lifted his arm, but Zac stirred and pulled her closer, his face pressing briefly against her hair.

For one ridiculous moment, she almost stayed there.

Then she remembered exactly whose arm was around her.

She shoved it away and sat up.

Zac made a low sound of annoyance before opening his eyes. He looked at her for a moment, still half asleep, then released her completely.

Neither spoke.

Roxie grabbed the sheet around herself and climbed out of bed, immediately regretting the movement when her legs protested.

She could feel him watching her.

Without looking back, she grabbed her robe from the chair and hurried into the bathroom.

The moment she shut the door, she leaned against it and covered her face.

"Fuck."

She stared at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was a disaster. There were faint marks along her neck and shoulders, and her makeup had survived in horrible patches beneath her eyes.

She looked exhausted.

And she had just spent the night with the one man she’d sworn she’d never let into her life again.

"Oh, you stupid woman."

She sat on the toilet, still trying to process everything, when she felt something leaking between her legs.

Roxie froze.

She looked down at the tissue.

Oh.

Oh, fuck!

She remembered Zac finishing inside her. More than once.

"Fuck. Fuck!"

She grabbed more tissue, wiping frantically. Panic made her try to scoop out whatever she could reach, as though that might somehow undo what had happened. She stopped when she realized how ridiculous she was being.

She knew perfectly well that wouldn’t prevent pregnancy.

Pregnancy.

Her stomach twisted.

What if she got pregnant?

With Zac Prescott’s baby?

After ten fucking years?

"No. Absolutely fucking no."

She had a career to save, a possible transfer to sports hanging over her head, and enough problems waiting in New York. The last thing she needed was to discover that one disastrous night in Italy had changed her entire life.

She pressed her palms against her forehead.

She needed emergency contraception. A pharmacy. Something. She could look it up on her phone once she got Zac out of her room.

And she needed to stop panicking before she gave herself a heart attack.

Roxie washed her face, brushed her teeth, and tied her hair back. She stayed in the bathroom longer than necessary, partly because she needed time to think and partly because she had absolutely no desire to face the man responsible for half her current problems.

When she finally opened the door, Zac was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He had already put on his trousers and was buttoning his shirt. His phone lay beside him, and his expression was considerably different from the one she’d seen last night.

His jaw was tight, his eyebrows slightly drawn together.

He looked irritated.

Well, that made two of them.

Roxie tightened her robe and walked toward the chair, picking up her discarded dress.

Neither said anything for several seconds.

Then Zac spoke.

"Whatever happened last night, forget it."

Roxie stopped.

She turned around slowly.

"Excuse me?"

Zac finished fastening a button before looking at her.

"You heard me."

She stared at him.

He was sitting in her bedroom, wearing yesterday’s clothes, telling her to forget what happened as though he’d just finished some embarrassing business transaction.

Fuck this man.

"What makes you think I want to remember it?"

His expression remained hard.

"Then we agree."

Roxie felt an unreasonable flash of irritation.

She’d been planning to tell him exactly the same thing. She’d spent the last ten minutes in the bathroom rehearsing how she’d explain that last night was a mistake and that he should never bring it up again.

But hearing him say it first was infuriating.

"You’re unbelievable."

Zac picked up his watch. "What now?"

"What do you mean, what now? You followed me into my room, spent the entire night here, and the first thing you say in the morning is to forget it?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Would you rather I thanked you?"

Roxie’s mouth fell open.

"Wow."

He fastened his watch around his wrist.

"That’s what you want, isn’t it? We forget it happened and go back to our lives."

"Don’t put words in my mouth!"

"Then what the hell do you want me to say, Roxie?"

She glared at him.

That was an excellent question.

What exactly did she want him to say?

An apology? An explanation? Some ridiculous declaration that last night had meant something?

Absolutely fucking not.

She wanted him to leave, preferably before she did something else humiliating.

"I want you to stop acting like you’re the one making all the decisions!"

Zac looked at her for several seconds, his expression growing colder.

"Fine. Then make one."

"Get out."

He stood.

And Roxie immediately hated how quickly he obeyed.

He picked up his shoes from beside the bed and sat down again to put them on. His silence was beginning to aggravate her more than anything he could have said.

"You’re the one who started this," she added.

Zac looked up.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! You followed me upstairs."

"You opened the door."

"Because I was drunk!"

"So was I."

"You certainly acted like it."

His jaw tightened.

Roxie crossed her arms, increasingly frustrated by how calm he sounded. She remembered the way he’d challenged her last night, the things he’d said, and how determined he’d been to prove that she still wanted him.

Now he was acting as though the entire thing had been an inconvenience.

"You’re such an asshole."

"Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear."

"Then maybe you should have listened."

Zac stood and reached for his phone.

"Trust me, Roxie. I’m listening now."

Something about his tone made her pause.

He slipped the phone into his pocket, his expression unreadable.

"Last night was a mistake. It won’t happen again."

The words irritated her more than they should have.

She lifted her chin.

"Believe me, I’m perfectly capable of finding someone better."

Zac went still.

For a moment, he simply stared at her. Then something changed in his expression, and Roxie saw his jaw tighten.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I’m sure you are."

She frowned.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Zac glanced toward the door.

"You’ve never had much trouble finding another guy."

Roxie blinked.

"Excuse me?"

He looked back at her.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Oh, no. You’re going to explain that."

"Why? You already know how this works."

"How what works?"

He gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Moving on. Finding someone else. You’re pretty fucking good at it."

Roxie stared at him.

For a second, she was too shocked to speak.

Then her temper exploded.

"Are you seriously accusing me of sleeping around?"

Zac’s expression hardened.

"I didn’t say that."

"You might as well have!"

"Believe whatever you want."

"Oh, fuck you, Zac!"

He looked away, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

Roxie could feel her face growing hot.

How dare he?

After everything that happened between them, after ten years of silence, he had the nerve to stand in her bedroom and make some ridiculous accusation about her relationships?

And why the hell did he sound so bitter about it?

"Who I date is none of your fucking business," she snapped.

"I know enough."

That stopped her.

Roxie stared at him, trying to understand what he meant. There was something in his voice that made the accusation sound personal, almost as though she’d done something to him.

But that was ridiculous.

She’d been the one who walked away because their relationship had become unbearable. Zac had chosen his football career, his friends, and a life that had left increasingly little room for her.

He had absolutely no right to judge what she’d done afterward.

"You know what?" she said, laughing bitterly. "Maybe you should worry about your own relationships before you start commenting on mine."

Zac’s eyes narrowed.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, please. You brought Olivia to this wedding and let everyone believe she was your girlfriend. Then you spent the night in my room. That’s pretty fucking impressive."

His expression darkened.

"You already know what’s going on with Olivia."

"I know she’s pretending to be your girlfriend. Whatever ridiculous arrangement you’ve got with her is your problem."

"Then leave her out of it."

"Gladly! Maybe you should go find her. I’m sure she’s wondering where her precious boyfriend disappeared to."

Zac stared at her for a long moment.

Then he gave a small nod.

"Fine."

He turned toward the door.

Roxie watched him go, her chest tightening with anger.

That was it?

He was just going to leave?

After accusing her of easily replacing him, he was going to walk out without explaining a single fucking thing?

"Unbelievable," she muttered.

Zac stopped near the door.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He turned around, looking thoroughly fed up.

"Roxie, you wanted me gone. I’m leaving. What else do you want?"

"I want you to stop making accusations about things you know absolutely nothing about!"

His eyes stayed on hers.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he gave another humorless laugh.

"Right. I know nothing."

The bitterness in his voice caught her off guard.

"What the hell is your problem?"

He looked at her for another moment.

"Forget it."

"There you go again! You keep saying something insulting and then telling me to forget it!"

"Because there’s no point talking about it."

"Then why bring it up in the first place?"

He pressed his lips together.

Roxie waited, expecting him to argue again.

Instead, his face closed off.

"You’re right. There’s no reason to bring up the past."

She hated the way he said it.

So calm.

So final.

As though the years they’d spent together were something he could dismiss whenever it suited him.

"Fine," she snapped. "Then stop acting like I owe you an explanation for what happened after we broke up."

Zac’s expression changed.

Instead, he shook his head. There was something almost disappointed in the way he looked at her, and for some reason, that irritated her even more.

"You don’t owe me a damn thing, Roxie."

Something about that statement stung.

She hated that it did.

"Great. Then get the fuck out of my room."

He looked at her one last time.

"Gladly."

Zac opened the door and walked out.

The door shut behind him with a solid click.

Roxie stood there, staring at it.

That arrogant, insufferable, judgmental bastard!

She grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it toward the door.

It landed uselessly on the carpet.

"FUCK YOU, ZAC PRESCOTT!"

Silence answered her.

Roxie stood there breathing hard, her hands clenched at her sides.

She’d wanted him gone.

She’d told him to leave.

So why the hell did it feel as though he’d managed to insult her one last time simply by obeying?

She looked at the ruined bed, the tangled sheets, and her dress hanging over the chair.

Then she remembered the panic she’d experienced in the bathroom.

Oh, fuck.

Pregnancy.

Emergency contraception.

She still needed to find a pharmacy, and they were supposed to leave Italy today.

Her phone vibrated somewhere beneath the blankets. Roxie dug it out and found several messages from Karen and Angela.

She pressed her temples at Angela’s message.

Girl, WHERE ARE YOU??? We’re having breakfast. Karen says you better be alive because we’re checking out today.

She opened another one.

Also, why did Zac disappear from the reception around the same time you did? ??

Roxie stared at the screen.

Oh, this was just fucking wonderful.

She had a headache, a possible pregnancy scare, a flight to catch, and two best friends who were going to interrogate her the moment they saw her.

And Zac Prescott apparently thought she was some woman who jumped from one man’s bed to another.

She threw the phone onto the mattress.

"Arrogant fucking bastard."

Then she picked it up again.

First, she needed to find a pharmacy.

She could deal with the asshole later.