Page 7 of Reckless Kiss

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

Erica put the call on speaker and placed the phone on the vanity unit between her and the woman in front of her.

“How long?” she asked into the phone

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Gregg replied.

“Come on, Greggybaby,” Monica said. “Tell her it’s overso we can get married. I want to get it done before I give birth.”

A little bit of bile rose up at the sound of Monica cooing to Gregg. Her American accent grated on Erica’s nerves. A stark contrast to Gregg’s clipped British accent.

“Monica?” Gregg said in surprise. “What are you doing at the Oscars?”

That was enough for Erica to have confirmation. Then, she switched the speaker function off and again brought the phone to her ear.

“How long? By the look of her bump, it’s at least seven months,” Erica asked.

Why did Erica want to know? She was divorced from the man. That’s right, and the paparazzi would have a field day if it got out.

“Well, you didn’t want to have kids, and I wanted a family. You were always travelling, and I was lonely.”

“So, you thought you’d have a whore on the side while lazing about like a househusband while I worked to keep you in that lifestyle?”

“I am not his whore,” Monica replied.

“You are, sweetheart. You fucked my husband and are having his child while he was married to me.”

“Erica, baby, please, can we talk about this?” Gregg said, whining his way through his words.

“Not a chance in hell. We’ll never speak again. My lawyers will contact you,” Erica said and ended the call.

No lawyers would contact him, but Erica kept up the ruse. Gregg could get himself out of his mess. She wasn’t going to help him. He’d never worked a day in his life. He lived off his parent’s money, and then when they married, he let Erica pay all the bills and his social butterfly lifestyle.

“You’ve got what you wanted. I hope you’ll be happywith Gregg. Good luck,” Erica said and dropped her phone into her clutch.

Gregg had no money and didn’t get any money from her as he signed a prenup.

Bending to look in the mirror, Erica dabbed her fingers on her lips to check her lipstick and strode past Monica, who was picking her jaw up off the floor.

“Where the hell have you been?” Yanny, Erica’s manager, hissed when she sat down.

“And the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role goes to,” the world-famous actor on stage said.

“I got delayed,” she whispered.

“Smile for the camera, Erica. You might win,” Yanny said through gritted teeth next to her.

Erica wasn’t in any mood to smile. A few minutes ago, she’d been confronted by a twenty-year-old demanding she give her husband a divorce so they could get married. A few minutes ago, Erica discovered her husband had been cheating on their marriage. With a woman, ten years her junior, showing off a spectacular baby bump.

The divorce was finalised a month ago. What made Erica angry was her ex-husband had said there wasn’t another woman when he asked for a divorce. Yet the young woman looked ready to give birth.

Everything about the scene was a cliché. Erica was cornered in the bathroom. Mirrors were everywhere to capture the hurt and betrayal dripping off her face as she applied her lipstick, staring at the other woman.

The silence deafened her in the rows behind, waiting for the name to be called. All the best actress nominees were in the front row. Everyone looked fabulous. Erica’s money was on Meryl Streep, winning the Academy Award.

“Erica Taylor,” the actor announced.

Rapturous applause echoed around the hall. Everyone surrounding her was on their feet. Some hugged her. In a daze, she looked at Yanny, slowly blinking to make sure it was her name called out. He nodded, giving a peck on her cheek.

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