Page 32 of By Invitation Only
“What?” he asked. “She is one.”
I knew Trent and Ava well. Ava wasn’t a cunt, and Trent was just pissed that she wanted a divorce, but it was bound to happen eventually. No one in Hollywood stayed married, and that was why I made the big bucks.
“Mate, can you call her please?”
“I’m not calling her. What the fuck is this about?”
“I…”Fuck!“I need to talk to the woman who… you know.” He didn’t know the actual truth, but I hoped he’d think it was about his divorce.
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Book, that can wait until Monday. Candace and I are going to go back to her place and continue the party. You’re welcome to join us.”
“You know I’m not into that.” I didn’t like sharing. It wasn’t my thing. I wanted my woman to come apart because of me and only me.
“All right, but you’re missing out.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
The crowd had moved, and we were just coming to the front doors. “There’s the cunt now.” Trent pointed, and I followed to where he had indicated.
“Stop calling her that,” I said, and rushed to where Ava was. “Where’s Peyton?” I asked her.
Ava was with Michael Zapino. It was clear she and Trent were moving on. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. Her purse wasn’t with our stuff when I grabbed mine. Pretty sure she left. Why?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I need to speak with her about… stuff.”
Ava stepped closer to me as though she was trying not to let anyone around us hear her. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to work all night. Just call her on Monday.”
Monday seemed so far away when really it was less than twenty-four hours away. “Give me her number,” I said as Ava’s limo pulled up.
She rolled her eyes. “Peyton was right.” Ava’s driver opened the door for her and Michael to slip in. “I’m not giving you her personal number, Book. Leave the poor woman alone, and call her on Monday.”
My alarm blared, waking me. I slept like shit. Pure, fucking shit. I tended to get shitty sleep after a night at Sensation. My body was out of sorts staying up until five in the bloody morning. It was like I was a twenty-something who went bar hopping. But I wasn’t. I was thirty-four, and while I might think I’m a spring chicken, my body told me otherwise, even with the hours I put in at the gym.
At least it was only once a month and worth it.Totally worth it.
When I left Sensation Sunday morning, I’d messaged Peyton on Facebook. We weren’t friends, so my messages were probably going to her other folder or some shit. By the time I got home, I was internet stalking her something fierce, but nothing gave me her private mobile number or her home address. Then I couldn’t fall asleep because I was replaying the night over and over in my head. Sleep did come eventually, but it wasn’t for long. My alarm woke me at ten so that I could go to the gym.
Peyton still hadn’t seen my messages.
That night, I tried to go to sleep early because I had to get up at five to head to the gym before work. Of course, all I could think about was what I imagined her face looking like when Carrie told her we were married. I pictured a look of betrayal on her face before instantly running from the room.
Carrie was right. Usually I wouldn’t care if she told a bird I’d hooked up with at Sensation that we were married. But she never had before, and most members didn’t know we were married. So of all the people she had to open her big fucking mouth to, it was the one person I actually cared about. Like I’d told Peyton, I’d fancied her for years. She was beautiful, feisty, smart and her body—well, now that I knew what it looked like naked, I was fucked. Royally fucked.
I’d never approached her before now because we were on opposite sides. Peyton was right, we could get in trouble if things were to progress and we didn’t tell anyone. I always thought that if I had that one taste, it would be all about sex. But as the day went on, and I couldn’t get her out of my head, I realized I actually bloody cared for her. If nothing else, I just wanted a chance to tell Peyton the actual truth about Carrie. It might have only been a one night thing, but how was I going to face her in court knowing what she tasted like?I couldn’t.That was the answer.
Rolling out of bed, I threw on a pair of black basketball shorts and a whiteUnder Armourtank. My gaze drifted to the top of my dresser. I’d left Peyton’s knickers there to stare me in the face whenever I was in the room. I couldn’t have that, so I stuck them in the top drawer. I had no intention of returning them.
After putting on socks and shoes, I grabbed my wallet, keys, phone and headed to the kitchen. My blood started to boil when I saw Carrie making her coffee.
“Are you still mad at me?” she asked as I reached to grab my protein powder in the cupboard so I could make my pre-workout shake.
“What do you think,love?”
“How long will it last?”
I turned to her. “I don’t know. Might want a divorce.”
She laughed. “No, you don’t.”
