Page 47 of Unleashed

He laughs. “I don’t think you do. Whatever happened between you and my sister is a mystery, other than it was a fake marriage, as suspected. But she’s not acting like it was pretending. Far from it.” I want to believe that. I hope she’s hurting, but I doubt it.

“I didn’t see it that way. She left. End credits. Signing off.”

“Why don’t you tell me your side?”

“Why don’t you ask Simone for hers?”

“I did. She won’t talk.”

I shrug. “I guess you’ll have to wait for the tell-all exposé.”

I leave with his eyes burning me alive from behind. The less he knows, the better. I need something to get me through each day without losing my mind or gaining a rap sheet.

Chapter 7

Simone

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ARRIVING EARLY AT BRANDON’S, I look around the expansive driveway as my phone dings with a text. I dig it out of my purse to see Clay asking if I’ll stop by his apartment tonight. I knew it was a mistake to ask him for a favor.

Clay Rushlow is a theater rat I met in a college sociology class when I transferred to Richmond. We hit it off that first day and went for Chinese after class. He then took me to his dorm, where he flashed a condom, and we fucked against the wall. Instead of dating, we were safety-net fuck buddies between dating other people.

Clay is a decent guy. He’s the first to give me an orgasm. Although it felt good, no other man compared to the euphoria Greg set off inside my body and soul. Clay and I stayed friends, and when I returned to Richmond, I ran into him on campus. He wanted coffee and my available pussy. Not necessarily in that order. So far, he’s only got the coffee. But still being friends, after I saw Greg in the office, I called Clay, begging him to pose as my boyfriend to discourage my ex from trying to reconnect with me. Clay jumped at the chance to display his acting chops and maybe wriggle me out of my clothes.

I sigh and head to the other side of the house to go the long way around, but I stop when I see Brandon and some guy talking. I spin around, but Brandon says, “Simone? Hi. Don’t go. I want you to meet someone.”

I cringe before pivoting with a Wilder-approved, studio-ready smile. “Hi, Brandon. I wanted to take a quick walk before the party. I’m not casing the joint.” I giggle, and Brandon grins, checking out my tits. No way. I don’t care what he promises me. I’ll never fuck him.

“No, no. You’re fine.” He puts his hand on the guy’s shoulder and steers him to face me. My steps falter as his jaw drops. “Simone, this is my grandson, Archer.”

While fumbling for words, I stare. The brown hair, chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and a knowing smile sideswipe me.

Archer is slow to offer his hand, and I’m reluctant to take it but keep it light. “Nice to meet you, Archer.”

He mumbles, “Same, Simone.”

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