Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I bite down on my lip to keep from crying. I’m tired of crying. Emotionally exhausted. Sick of it. Swallowing down the tight ache in my throat, I lock the apartment door and then swivel around to greet my bird.
“Shrimp,” I say in a raspy, wobbly voice as I toss my purse onto the love seat and kick off my heels. “Welcome home.” To the whore apartment.
He flaps his wings angrily from inside his cage. I’m unnerved wondering how he even got here. Winston obviously handled this during all the chaos that was dinner when he’d been texting someone.
It’s not just my bird.
Sitting on my bed is my bag of toiletries, my backpack, and a garment bag that most definitely doesn’t belong to me. I don’t have to unzip it to know it’ll be filled with outfits that were once hanging in my room at Winston’s place.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” I chant, even as fresh, hot tears roll out.
I unlatch Shrimp’s cage door so he can get some space. Rather than hopping into my waiting hand, he flutters past me, swooping around the small area. He chirps in sharp, high-pitched noises that indicate he’s not pleased about his surroundings. The poor bird misses his chandelier playground, high ceilings, and huge windows.
“I fucked it up,” I explain to him with a wave of my hand. “I can’t even begin to imagine what the fallout for all of this will be.”
And I can’t.
Winston wasn’t exactly chatty. I’m not sure if we’re through or if he expects me at work tomorrow. I don’t know if he still plans to interrogate me about Leo or what. Now that I’ve clearly pissed Leo off, I’m sure my sex life is being dragged through the mud and all over social media as I sit here feeling sorry for myself.
I groan as I think about those videos of Winston doing all the filthy things he does to me getting out for everyone to see. Winston may not be worried about his reputation, but I do not want to start college in the fall having a sex scandal with a billionaire under my belt. Not to mention, Dad will just die if he catches wind of it.
Everyone I know will see it.
My enemies. The few friends I have left. The Constantines.
Images of Keaton, Tinsley, and Perry all watching the video together in different variations of shock and disappointment makes me sick to my stomach.
And his mother?
God.
I feel like such an idiot. Leo was just waiting for me to slip up, eager to blast this information to the world. I allowed him to manipulate me because I was afraid of what people would learn about me and Win.
That he pays me for sick, filthy activities.
Oh, and he pays me well.
Disgust at myself roils in my stomach. I bet the perfect Meredith will sit in her mansion with her stupid husband grinning like an evil witch at the scandal. She’s probably waiting to swoop in to rescue the prince from his whore’s betrayal.
Shrimp lands on the garment bag and pecks at it. He’s still mad but luckily he won’t stay that way. That bird loves me even when I royally screw up my life. A note is sticking out of a partially unzipped pocket. I yank it out, startling Shrimp, and flip it open to read.
Miss Elliott,
If you’re missing any of your things from Mr. Constantine’s residence, please contact me via email with a list. I’ll be sure to round up anything that may have gotten overlooked and/or replace any items.
Sincerely,
Deborah
I crumple up the note and throw it to the floor. I’m sure Deborah was all too eager to drop what she was doing to rush over to Winston’s to uproot me and my bird.
Anger settles in the pit of my stomach. This is ridiculous. Winston hasn’t even let me completely explain myself or to try and make things better. While the fire is still burning through me, I grab my phone to text him. I ignore the many from Leo waiting for me and go to Win’s contact.
Me: For someone who doesn’t care, you sure are pissy about the whole thing.
I hit send and stew while I wait for him to reply.
Win: If that’s an attempt at an apology, it sucks. Didn’t your daddy teach you any manners?
Me: You know I’m sorry for not telling you that Leo was stalking me but I’m not sorry for trying to keep our private moments out of the media. I was protecting us.
Win: With your guard bird? I’m sure the Morellis were awfully frightened.
Though his lack of response regarding Leo feels like a sting, his willingness to verbally spar with me, even when furious enough to kick me and my bird out of his home, gives me hope that we’re not over. This is just a hiccup. A small bump in the road. We’ll move past it. I just know it.