Page 93 of The Influencer

“Oh, hey, wait up, there’s no judgment here. I’m just really fucking curious. You haven’t—I mean—it just doesn’t seem like you.”

“What? That I’m an asshole?”

“You’re not an asshole, Ash. You’re human. And you and Olivia haven’t been doing anything but going through the motions forever. I get it. No one wouldn’t get it.”

I shake my head, incredulous. He doesn’t get anything. A good man would have ended things with Liv a year ago when he walked out of the jewelry store with no intention of ever returning. When he stopped even wanting to have sex with her. A good man wouldn’t have paid a man to let him suck his nipples or his cock while his girlfriend added wedding ideas to her Pinterest board. A good man would have been honest.

This is the first time in my relationship with Adam where I see how far apart we’ve grown, and if anything could possibly make me feel more alone in this world—it’s that.

“So, who were you sleeping with?” he asks, wanting to dish, not giving a shit that I’m a lying, cheating asshole.

“He’s a person I met a few weeks ago. It doesn’t matter.”

Adam and Sawyer freeze, staring at me in shock.

“What?” I ask. It’s not like both of them haven’t fucked women and men in their past.

“You fucked a guy?” Adam asks.

“So?”

“I just—I mean, I knew you were open to it—curious or whatever, but I never figured you’d do it.”

I narrow my gaze at him. “Like I said, who I fucked isn’t really the point, Adam. And if you want to know the whole truth—I was paying him. At first.”

Adam’s jaw drops, but to Sawyer’s credit, his expression remains stoic.

Adam moves his hand to rest on top of his fiancé’s. “Can I—? I’m gonna take Asher to the den to talk.”

“Of course.”

Reluctantly, I follow my brother through the enormous penthouse, through two living areas, a dining room, then into a media room. Blackout curtains hang open on either side of the floor-to-ceiling window, shedding light on the enormous black leather sectional. Adam crowds me, even though there are literally a dozen places to sit. We get close—like we’re still sharing a damn womb.

“What the fuck is really going on?” Adam asks.

I maintain eye contact, not shying away from the conversation. Especially now that he’s acting more like my twin again. “What do you wanna know?”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Jade Sloane,” I admit.

“Jade? Are you being serious right now?”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Jade took money for sex?”

“Yes,” I say.

“How’d that even happen?”

“I did his septum piercing when Gideon came in to have some work done on his sleeve. And then he needed help with it a few times, and I just kinda cracked one day.”

“You cracked.”

I nod.

“Meaning?”

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