Page 32 of Repluse

CHAPTER 10

Mila

I hover in the hallway, trying to catch any of the boys’ conversation that might give me a clue as to what’s going on. The knot of dread I felt in my belly now fills every part of me. And I already know that I’m not going to like whatever it is Frankie has to tell me.

When I enter the kitchen, Frankie’s sliding a glass onto the island in front of where I was sitting earlier. It’s large and round, like a fishbowl, filled with crushed ice, orange liquid, and two slices of fresh orange. If I had to describe a summer’s day as a drink, this would be it.

Sam has moved to sit on the stool beside mine, which he pulls out as I approach. “Thank you,” I tell him as I lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

We haven’t yet discussed what happened earlier between us. I’m not even sure we should just yet. I think we both need time to process, because what we did, it wasn’t fucking. There were feelings involved on both our parts, I’m pretty sure.

Leaning across the island, Frankie places a long, stainless-steel straw into my drink. I raise my brows as I look his way in the hope he’ll tell me what it is.

He understands my non-verbal cue, and the realisation that he does causes a ripple of something inexplicable to roll through me.

“Blood orange gin, Mediterranean tonic,” Frankie says as I take my seat.

“No drugs?” I question factiously.

“Not yet. They come later when we do,” he says with a quirk of his brows.

“I think I’m good for the rest of the day.” I turn and give Sam a wink, unsure of what it is exactly I’m trying to achieve by winding Frankie up.

“We’ll see,” he replies, and I know now that my aim is to wipe the cocky smugness from his face.

“Mila, before Scott’s party, did you ever Google me or my club? Did you ever search on your phone, tablet, or laptop anything about three-ways? Anything at all like that?”

Heat travels up from my belly, scorching a path over my chest and cheeks, all while my blood runs cold. I take a long sip of my drink through the straw. My head spins instantly, but I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, lack of food, or Frankie’s question.

“Why?” I whisper.

“Answer the question, and I’ll explain.”

I don’t know why I’m embarrassed. Almost everything I researched we did last weekend anyway. Almost.

“I don’t have a tablet.”

Like a teenage girl, Frankie gives me an eyeroll because he knows, weallknow, I’m stalling.

“I… yes, on my phone, I looked up the club. I may have also looked at some very specific porn,” I quietly admit.

“Pornhub?” Sam questions beside me.

I nod. He holds his palm up for a high five. I use my good hand and don’t leave him hanging.

“He knew,” Frankie interrupts our exchange. “My invite to Scott’s party wasn’t as random as I thought. He knew you’d Googled me, knew what you’d been watching. He knew there was no way I’d turn up for anything celebrating his father unless it was to watch him burn at the stake, so he told me he had some potential business contacts attending. He knows we’re looking to expand and told me there were a couple of his dad’s mates who might be interested in investing.”

“Who?” I question, not able to think of a single one of Scott’s cronies who’d want their name listed as an investor of a sex club.

“There were none. He got me there to set us up.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

Despite feeling sick, and despite feeling like my world is tilting sideways, I take another long pull on my drink.

“I don’t understand.”

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