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I always knew deep down that Troy was an untrustworthy weasel. Now, I regret my refusal to admit it. Our relationship is convenient, working well with my busy schedule and occasional job-related travel as an assistant editor forExploremagazine. But I shouldn't have ignored the signs blatantly flashing in front of me—hiding his cell phone password, requests that I call before showing up at his apartment, the nights out with "the boys." The truth is, I've acted like a blind idiot, and now I'mpissed. Troy is just another lying, cheating, can't-keep-his-cock-in-his-pants lousy boyfriend. My only consolation is that I didn't love the guy. But that doesn't keep me from feeling hurt and betrayed.
"Look at that. It's a match to the earring Lacey lost earlier this week. I gave them to her for her birthday last year, and she was upset when she realized she'd lost one of them." Aaron's comments cause the eyes focused on me to slide back in his direction as if we're all watching a game of tennis. "Wait. When did you have time to have that earring duplicated? You've been out of town." He stares at me, looking completely puzzled.
"I didn't have to. That's Lacey's lost earring," I say dryly. "I found it in Troy's bed."
Boom! The charade's over. I've thrown my dart, and it's a bullseye.
The room goes silent, except for a menagerie of gasps and whispers while heads swing back and forth across the room. I can feel the tension in the air, people staring at me. I focus on Aaron. He's sitting straight as a board, and it looks like he's struggling to digest my words. For a moment, I feel pity for him.
Then I don't.
He's the ass giving "let me spread my legs" Lacey free rein to do whatever she pleases, and she burned him. The problem is she burned me too, our being best friends holding no sacred spot for her.
Aaron's eyes suddenly widen, and he snaps his head toward Lacey. "You fucked him—that goddamn arrogant asshole?" He yanks his head toward Troy.
"Aaron, honey. It's not what you think." There's desperation in Lacey's voice as she defensively holds up her hands. Her eyes fill with panic when she looks for Troy, spotting him inching his way toward the exit.
"You son of a bitch!" Aaron leaps from his chair, beelining it toward Troy.
I use Aaron's diversion as my chance to disappear and spin around, intending to get as far away from here as fast as possible. But I collide with an employee carrying Lacey's birthday cake, the tiered confectionery looking like a stack of presents with gold and silver bows and fancy ribbons. The cake hits the floor, and I land on top of it—on my ass.
The tennis game is still in play as heads turn away from Aaron lunging toward Troy to me sprawled on the floor in a pile of cake. Mortified, I jump up and do the only thing I can remotely think to do. I bow politely to the people staring at me and back out of the room.
"Good going, Walker. Great way to ruin a party," Garrett Easton says, suddenly appearing behind me when I reach the doorway. He reaches out and takes an exaggerated swipe across my rear with his index finger, holding his cake-covered digit in the air as if it were a prize.
"You know me. I always like to put on a good show." I flash a smile to the room of stunned guests and dodge around the corner, amazed at how I managed to go from victim to villain in a matter of minutes.
Retreating to the lobby, I lean against the wall to catch my breath before making my much-needed exit. With my tension slightly eased, I pull away from the wall, only to hear a round of snickers behind me. A glance over my shoulder explains why.
I've left a perfect butt print of cake splattered on the wall.
Hanging my head, I dash out the door and hail a cab. My composure is intact by the barest thread as I lean against the car's window and close my eyes. Tonight is one of those nights that I'll never be allowed to forget—forever designated as the birthday party from hell.
Chapter Two
Brittany
The last ten days—since the infamous birthday party—proved emotionally rough. But now, with my mood several notches better than it was, I'm ready for the new work week. Entering our office lobby, I toss, "Good morning, Ruby," over my shoulder before opening the side door to the editorial department. I hear Ruby's mirrored greeting before slipping through the doorway and hurrying down the corridor. In no mood for chitchat, I round the corner and jet past Romeo's desk to the sound of a throat clearing behind me.
"And where are you going without a decent hello?"
I stop and expel the breath I'm holding and spin around. "Good morning, Romeo," I say in an exaggerated tone, spotting an arched brow directed at me. I take several steps toward the man standing beside a filing cabinet with a tanned hand resting on his hip and prepare for a scolding.
Romeo Conti is my boss's administrative assistant. He sees and hears everything, besides being incredibly talented at offering unsolicited opinions.
"That's better," he says triumphantly with his slight Italian accent. "You must have had a nice weekend. You don't look like you've been sucking on lemons the way you did last week."
"I had a nice weekend, thank you very much. And if you're insinuating I had issues last week, it couldn't be further from the truth."
"Sweetie, please." Romeo performs a perfect eye roll. "You marched around here last week grumbling incessantly about the male species and had such a death stare and sour look that most of the men around here couldn't get out of your way fast enough."
"That's not true. I did no such thing."
He stares down his nose at me for a full four seconds, daring me to deny it again. "Sweetie, you were like a rabid madwoman ready to bite. I saw Drake cover his crotch with a folder when you flew down the hallway toward him."
"He did that?"
"He did. Too bad you didn't notice the terror in his eyes. It was priceless. So, did you and Troy kiss and make up?"
