Page 55 of My Rules

“What’s happening?” I frown.

“I have no idea.”

“He’s getting his cock pierced.” Antony laughs hard.

The camera goes black, and we hear Blake’s hysterical laughter as it fades into the distance.

“What?”

“Oh. My. God,” Juliet gasps. “Blake is actually getting his dick pierced. Is he insane?”

“Obviously.” I drag my hand down my face in disgust. “Why am I not surprised?”

“He’s seriously out of control,” Chloe replies.

Another video bounces in, and Juliet opens it. It’s a photo of Henley asleep in the bathtub. He has a bucket and a pillow under his head.

“Oh, thank god, he’s back home safe.” Juliet sighs with relief.

“Why would they put him in the bathtub, the assholes?” I scoff.

I turn back to the front, and my mind flicks back to the two women that Blake was kissing earlier.

I don’t know much about life, but I do know one thing: there will be no more videos sent through tonight.

Blake and Antony probably dropped Henley at home and then went back out.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

The sun is shining, and the birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m late for work.

It wouldn’t be a Monday if I wasn’t.

I pour my coffee into my thermos cup and grab some fruit from the refrigerator.

Now that I’m on a budget, I have to pack my lunch all the time. Those little coffees and carryout snacks here and there add up. I grab an apple and an orange and the sandwich that I made last night from the refrigerator. I put my handbag over my shoulder, grab my coffee, and make my way out the front door.

From my peripheral vision, I can see that Blake’s garage door is going up, but I refuse to look over.

Refuse!

I’m still angry with him, and to make matters worse, he hasn’t bothered to try and call me in days.

So now I’m angrier.

I hope his new piercing makes his dick fall off.

I open my car door and sling my handbag in to sit on the front seat. I lean down and peer through the window of my car to see Blake walk out the front door of his house in a navy suit. His dark sandy hair has a wave to it, and he’s standing tall. The way he carries himself screams confidence.

I narrow my eyes, infuriated by the mere sight of him.

He gets into his car and starts it. The Porsche roars like a kitten as she warms up.

Ugh . . .

I walk around to the driver’s side, and as I’m climbing in, I fumble my orange and drop it. It rolls down the driveway and into the road just as Blake is driving out.

He pulls the car to a halt so that he doesn’t run it over.

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