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The upkeep and bills from mom’s house—combined with the cost of her long-term care—meant that I was barely keeping afloat.
And I made good money with my all of my side-gigs. My bikinis took time to make, but they brought in a nice profit.
I also had a ton of fans for my videos, which equaled some great paychecks for me, from a few different avenues.
Anyone on the outside looking in would think I had it made.
And they’d be wrong.
Really, really wrong.
Now, because I couldn’t stay away from Cash, all of my secrets would be exposed. And the world would see what kind of an idiot I really am.
A notification pinged on my phone. It was Gigi. “Lexi and I will be at your place in ten minutes. Do you need anything?”
A sob tore out of my chest that I wasn’t expecting—and I quickly stuffed it back in.
This was not the time to break down.
Not now.
Later.
Right now, I needed to get the heck out of here.
I grabbed a backpack and threw in my necessities. It didn’t take long. Which was good because I didn’t have much time.
I had one stop to make before I left.
I locked up and ran across the dark courtyard. Lexi and Trey’s lights were on, and so were Beau and Gigi’s. Other than that, everyone else seemed to be sleeping. And none the wiser about what had just happened on my social media.
But soon enough, they would. And I couldn’t be here when that happened. Plus, I had a few other messes I needed to clean up.
But first, I knocked on Cash’s door.
No answer.
I knocked again, but louder this time.
The door opened. Cash stood there, right in front of me. Silent.
“Can we talk?” I asked in a voice so quiet I could hardly hear myself.
He stared at me with angry eyes. Then he finally stepped back and let me in.
After he shut the door, I turned around and started apologizing, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I—”
He cut me off, “You’re fucking right. This is all your fault.” The light from the TV was the only illumination in the room. The shadows on his handsome face made him look dangerous.
Threatening.
“If you hate me, I don’t blame you one bit,” I began saying, but he jumped back in before I could finish my sentence.
With a glowering look on his face, he said, “If?” He leaned in. “If I fucking hate you?” he said in a murderous tone. “There’s no ifs about it, Jillian. I do fucking hate you. And I hate what you turned me into. A liar and a goddamn cheater. That’s what you’ve done to me. The whole world knows it, now. I have you to thank for that.”
I didn’t exactly think he’d welcome me into his place with open arms.
Even still, I wasn’t prepared for this harsh amount of vitriol.
