Page 18 of Falling For The Billionaire Rockstar

“Yeah, well, we visited my aunt’s, and she got him pretty riled up, so we came here to blow off some steam.”

“I’m guessing you’re not coming back home tonight?”

“Why not? It’s still—oh shit, is that the time?” There was a brief silence before we spoke. “His hotel is close by, so we’re probably going to knock off there.”

My eyes narrowed. “Just to be clear, this is yourbrother,right?”

“You better fling those slutty thoughts with that ring on your finger. You’ll meet him tomorrow. He’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, I bet he is.”

“See you tomorrow, Oly. Lock the doors.”

“Yes, Mom.” The line clicked, and the call ended.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked down at my fingers, where the silver band still choked my ring finger. You’d think someone you’ve dated for three years would know your ring size.

Samantha was right—why the hell did I still have it on? I pulled it out with a bit of effort and slammed it on the kitchen island.

As I placed my mug under the coffee pot and topped off my coffee, my eyes caught the glint at the edge of the silver band, which was back on my finger. I fucking hated how much I was actually involved with Greg. I was over it, or at least I thought so. But some memories still lingered, and some things were hard to part ways with. And if you look on the bright side of it, that ring could buy me a new life in some distant country far away.

And no, I’m not exaggerating. It’s an expensive ring.

I took another sip of coffee as I walked out of the kitchen. Earlier, I had stepped onto the porch because the house was becoming suffocating, with my thoughts and paranoia putting me in a chokehold. However, after getting some fresh air, I felt better.

Entering the sitting room, I dropped my mug on the coffee table before picking up my laptop from where I’d left it earlier, checking to see if I’d received any email.

My eyes skimmed through the hate messages and other relevant emails as I searched for a specific name. Yes, people went as far as finding my email to make sure they got my attention, and I wouldn’t say they didn’t.

The person I was searching for was my agent. He hadn’t reached out since that day, and I was tired of calling his office. There wasn’t anything they could do, and they also hadn’t heard from him. It wasn’t part of their job to run another set of papers for me. Except I was going to pay for it. And fuck if I was going to fall into their tricks twice.

But I couldn’t even settle for the fact that it was a scam because I met someone at the airport. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that he was deliberately annoying as part of the scam, I’d slapped him, and he had walked away. There wasn’t enough statistical information on God’s green earth that could’ve predicted the situation going like that.

But then again, what sort of man walks away after being slapped by a woman he’d never met before at an airport? And it was a pretty mean slap; even I was as shocked as everyone who turned to look at us.

I let out a frustrated howl and slammed my laptop. I had thought about everything over and over again, and no matter how much I tried to tweak my paranoid thoughts, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I’d screwed myself over.

I grabbed the TV remote and tapped the power button. The blank screen came to life, and I saw a familiar picture pop up on the screen. In the picture, I was smiling like a clown with my head buried in the crook of Greg’s neck, while he displayed a more presentable smile on his face.

It was as though he’d been trained to look perfect for any picture. The picture faded away to reveal two women sitting on plush multi-colored sofas in their brightly colored studio.

One had a look of amusement as though she could see me through the screen. The other had a nasty scowl; she opened her mouth to speak, and I turned the TV right back off.

I wondered how long it was going to take until they were tired and the news of my takeoff died down. It wasn’t like I was thefirst bride to walk away from her wedding. I’d actually gotten the inspiration from a trending video online, although, at that time, it was only a mere afterthought.

However, I knew my eloping was the least reason for my crucifixion. Those I paid attention to hardly gave a fuck about that. Their major concern was that I, someone from a backwater city in the forgotten parts of New York, was handed a new life on a platter of gold and chose to walk away. If only they understood the true cost of that life and how liberating it was to be a nobody compared to being a fucking puppet.

Maybe then they would understand that I took a really bold step walking out of that church.

I had considered it several times, setting my phone where the light hit right and getting behind it so I could rant and share my side of the story. However, that was hardly the kind of girl I was.

Not because I was shy, but because I wasn’t fucking stupid.

I wasn’t going to give Greg the satisfaction he wanted—to let him know that he’d gotten to me and give him a false sense of victory over a war that didn’t exist. My major problem was getting out of the fucking city.

Lord knows what could happen if I ever crossed paths with my agent again.

Just then, I heard the click of locks and the opening and shutting of the door. I waited until the shuffling of feet reached the sitting room before placing my mug down again.

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