Chapter 39

Ray looked peaceful, but I couldn't let him sleep on my sofa. I had more pressing problems now, a lot to figure out—and he wasn't one of them.

“Ray, get up. You're not sleeping here," I murmured, staring towards the door, expecting his men to just step in and take him away, and give me space.

I had just fainted—something I had never experienced before. I desperately wanted a minute to take in.

"Okay, I guess I'll just have to get you up," I grumbled as I walked to the kitchen. I took a glass and filled it with water before returning to the living room, where Ray was still lying there dozing.

"Sorry, Ray, but this is for my mental health," I said quietly, throwing the water on him without hesitation. I assumed I'd need another glass, but it worked—he jumped up.

"Alexis!"

"What?" He still seemed drunk, which is why I asked.

"My fake girlfriend… Call my girlfriend." He sank back onto the sofa. "I must confess. I am in love with her. I planned all of this.”

"Say what?"

"I got my team to get Alexis to date me. I love her—I can't let her go," he muttered, eyes closed and still intoxicated. I almost reached for another glass of water, but paused as his words sank in.

"Ray," I called his name, and he murmured. "Why do you love her?" I asked. This was the question I wanted to ask Elliot and Harvey, so I seized the opportunity.

"Why?" He looked in my direction, his eyes still closed. "Have you met her?"

“No, that is why I am asking. I've never met her," I said, trying to get him to talk.

He let out a light chuckle before speaking: "When I met her in the club, she thought I was a normal person. She was the only one who did not immediately ask for a photo after seeing me."

"Oh," I replied, recalling that night. "So that's enough to make you fall in love?”

"No… She asked me to take her to my room. I shouldn't have, but she was so damn sexy, and I was also drunk.”

"Oh, so…?"

"The next morning, I woke up hoping she'd recognise me and ask for a picture, but she went without one. That's when I realised she was the one." He laughed, now sitting upright. "I traced her. Layla—the agency she connected me with — and she walked straight in..." He was breaking.

"I don't know. I love how she doesn't treat me differently. She sees me as human. As I want to be seen," he said, but his voice made my head hurt, so I yelled for him to stop, but he kept talking.

"I love her. I love her," he said again, and I felt my knees tremble as voices from the past replayed in my ears.

'You are not good enough. Look at the useless daughters you gave me. I definitely needed to look for it somewhere else!’

‘I have given you everything, Cristina. I saved you from that dumb place.’

'If only you could be a little bigger!'

‘You want to insult me in front of my children and in my home?’

'You can't tell me what to do, Derek Sanders.’

‘Oh, really? Fine then. I am divorcing you!’ Dad yelled, and I sat in the corner, caressing Emma's back while she sobbed quietly in my lap.

‘Mom, please stop,’ I begged, shutting Emma's ears while Mom continued to insult my father as if we weren't even there.

"Stop it! Please… stop it." I screamed with all of my strength. She did not stop. She was violently signing the papers—it was as if I was telling her to stop, but she wouldn't listen.

“Please do not sign them. Please don't sign." I whispered to myself. I didn't realise I was on the floor until a hand touched my cheek. I looked up and was shocked to see Dylan.

"It's okay. You're okay," he said. His voice was comforting. I mumbled that he should get the man on the sofa out of my sight.

"He should leave. He must leave. Please take him out, I..." I paused as Dylan's fingertips brushed my cheeks tenderly. He muttered soothing words, which helped the headache go away.

"He is drunk. He'll leave in the morning," he added, referring to the man on the sofa—Ray, as I now remembered.

After taking a good look, I cautiously rose up. Ray was back asleep. "I could contact his people, but I'm not sure how. I can put him in a hotel if it makes you feel better." I shook my head.

I knew it wasn't going to work since he was so wasted—and a star. I could call Gia, but with how I left things with her daughter? I couldn't.

"I need air," I muttered, although Dylan still held my hand. Gently. It felt too good to be real.

"Sure. Let me just help him rest, and then I'll join you.” Okay, I had no idea Dylan was this caring, but who could blame him? My life was now pitiable.

Without saying anything further, I turned and proceeded towards the door, straight to the backyard and hot tub.

I looked down at my feet, only to realise I'd put on the awful sandals. I was wearing heels the last time I remember. I eased out of them and dipped my legs into the tub, enjoying the silence.

I was just beginning to think when I sensed another presence. I looked up and saw Dylan fold his trousers. "You don't mind if I join you, right?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dylan wanted to get into the hot tub with me? Wow. It was the first, no, actually second time.

He stood there waiting for my response, which surprised me once again. Dylan never asked. He simply dived in and splashed water on everyone. I remember him doing that to Chloe, Elliot, Jake, or Harvey.

Me, on the other hand? I assumed he felt disgusted. When he came to visit and I was inside, he would not come in.

Well, today he seemed different. I might as well take advantage and ask, so I bit my bottom lip, gulped hard, and looked him in the eye and asked.

He chuckled. "I'll answer because you're sick," he said, sitting down and lowering his feet into the tub. I looked at him curiously, waiting for a response.