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I feel like a kid sneaking out of her bedroom to get a midnight snack. To be honest, I don’t even know what time it is. Making it out the door and along the hallway, I’m feeling confident that I can grab the frozen misery bucket and get back to my room in just a few seconds. I’m stepping down onto the first stair when I hear the light ding of the elevator doors opening.
Shit. I freeze. I don’t want them to see me but I’m not willing to move so they hear me on the steps either.
Their footsteps are a bit like a shuffle and the giggle from both of them tells me how drunk they are. Just their luck. What I wouldn’t give to be off in happy land right now.
Passing the bottom of the stairs, they don’t look up at all, so I let out the breath I was holding in. I can see into the living room from where I am, with the reflection off the mirror in the foyer.
“Dani.” Sasha wraps her arm around her and lays her head on Dani’s shoulder.
“It’s alright, baby, it’ll be okay.” Her hand rubs up and down Sasha’s back. Then without warning, Sasha steps back and lifts her top off, wearing nothing underneath.
“Sash, honey, we can’t do this here.” But it’s a lost cause as Sasha proceeds to undo the halter neck top that Dani has on and it slides straight down her front, exposing her breasts with ease. “Baby, we need to go to our room. Someone might see.” Sasha ignores her, dipping down and taking one of her hard nipples into her mouth, drawing out a moan from the both of them. Her hand slides straight up under her skirt as well, and I’m guessing under her panties—if she even has any on. Because the way Dani’s legs nearly give out from under her tells me what’s happening.
What the fuck. How could she cheat on Jordan with her assistant? It’s so wrong. Here he is beating himself up about me and she is fucking a woman in his own home. The one he let her into when he married her.
I need to leave, I can’t be here. It’s wrong to be watching this.
“Fuck it. Get on the couch and let me have my dessert.” Dani’s trying to whisper, but in the silence of the night, I hear every word.
The movement of them shedding clothes and falling onto the couch gives me the cover I need to scamper back up the step and down the hallway into my room. I try to close the door in a hurry but with no sound.
Leaning against the back of the door, my head feels like it’s exploding.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
Poor Jordan. How could she do this?
I have to tell him.
Oh God, how do I even do that? “Excuse me, Jordan, just thought I’d share that last night I saw your wife fucking her assistant on your couch while you slept upstairs.”
I can’t even deal with this. It changes everything.
All my plans of leaving tomorrow are thrown out the window. I can’t leave him here to deal with that. I just can’t.
I always knew I hated her, but now I really do. No wonder she was so nice to me; she has too many secrets to hide and needs me as a friend, not an enemy, so I wouldn’t suspect anything. How long has this even been going on?
Oh, Jordan, my poor Jordan.
Imagine if this hit the media. Jordan Brandon’s wife caught in an affair with a woman.
The locker room would be full of the snide remarks that he wasn’t man enough to keep her satisfied.
Which is bullshit, and I can vouch for that. If he was any more perfect at fucking someone then I’d be dead.
What an idiot she is.
The most amazing husband and she doesn’t care.
Well, I’ll fix you, you little hussy.
No one hurts my man and gets away with it.
Enjoy your last night in your cushy high-class apartment, because tomorrow, we’ll be throwing your cheating whorebag ass out of here. And your little slut girlfriend can go with you.
As soon as I tell Jordan, I’ll even offer to do it myself!
ChapterTwenty-One
