Page 93 of Lost Love

“How did the quarterback taste? I bet you gave him the royal treatment.”

“What are you?” She stepped back.

“Seriously?” Ari roared out in laughter.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere. So when my fiancée disappears during the party, I make it my business to find out exactly where she is.”

“You asshole!”

“I think you know the way out, Francesca.”

She narrowed her eyes, her mouth slightly open, then turned her back and, like a tornado, left.

I stumbled back to my bed, my head hitting the pillow as I fell back.

What a fucking relief. But now, I had the task of telling Alfred the engagement was off. No mean feat, but I wouldn’t back down, not now, not ever.

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of Pepper on my skin, the scent of her floral body wash, and the way one touch sent my heart hammering.

I shook my head.

I was too late, wasn’t I?

22

Pepper

Ruffling down my black curls into a truly tangled mess, I stared at my reflection in my floor-length bedroom mirror. Red-rimmed and puffy eyes wouldn’t be a great look at my lunch date with Olivia and Lourde. Trying to get out of it was futile. I’d tried. The texts I fired off in our group chat, feigning a headache, were met with,“Drink a juice and down two Tylenol.” They were so empathetic.

I guess I couldn’t blame them. They saw bullshit, and Lourde called me on it. At least they were coming uptown to Munch, my favorite bakery that happened to be on the street corner.

They picked Munch, so I wouldn’t say no. No one ever says no to a sweet made by the talented and now renowned baker, Luca Coltres.Oh God.My mouth watered just thinking about the rich dark-chocolate croissant I was about to devour.

Slipping on my shoes, I gave myself one last glance in the mirror. The dress I picked out complimented my somber mood—black and fitted to just above the knee. I sighed. At least I had on my favorite pair of Mary Janes. Shoes made a girl feel better any time of day. And scanning the headlines this morning, I definitely needed a pick-me-up.

I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, pulling it shut behind me. As I descended the elevator and exited onto the busy street, the memory of the article still lingered.

Alarm had crossed Jake’s face as he was photographed with his pants undone and a woman on her knees beside him. Well, if he wanted notoriety, he’d gotten it, his fifteen seconds of fame. He was the guy the OnlyFans girl blew at a Farrah Goldsmith’s haute couture afterparty. He got everything he deserved.

It was something that probably should have surprised me, but really it didn’t.

Deep down, I knew Jake wasn’t the man for me, and I felt freer for breaking up with him last night. But the fact of the matter was, I was still upset. Not because Jake had his dick sucked by a whore, but because I was the one who pushed Connor away. For all his advances, heart-racing stares, and honesty, I’d pushed him toward Francesca.

By not wanting to be the other woman, I’d propelled him into the arms of a willing fiancée. But witnessing her push herself onto him in the elevator made my skin crawl and my heart thud dully in my chest. I’d left and cried my way home immediately after.

“There she is! I ordered you your croissant!” Lourde stood up, spotting me and calling me over to their table.

As usual, the place was swimming with people. Luca’s expert dessert skills weren’t a local secret any longer.

“Thanks, I could eat two of those. I’m so famished.”

I slumped on the bench seat opposite them.

“Tell me what happened with Jake,” Lourde said, extending her hand and placing it on top of mine. You disappeared and turned your phone off last night.

“Well, he got his dick sucked.”

“Evidently.” Olivia laughed. “But are you okay?” Olivia questioned, reaching for my arm.

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