Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
It’s about that time I finally get my brain to work and decide I need to get the hell out of here. But when I take a step back, he catches the movement from his periphery and glances up to meet my gaze. A strange expression tightens his features before his companion notices me, making quick work of wiping her face and adjusting her clothing.
“MJ.” Adam yanks up his pants and calls out to me. “Holy shit. It’s the real American hero in the flesh.”
Something in his tone irks me. Or maybe it’s just this whole situation. I wasn’t expecting this, and it’s thrown me for a loop.
“Come sit down,” he barks in the same voice he reserves for his staff.
I force myself to move, although it’s the last thing I want to do right now. The blonde watches me curiously as I step inside and take a seat in the chair opposite his desk.
“Do you want something to drink?” Adam asks. “Bethany can grab you a beer, or water, whatever.”
“I’m good.” I eye her, noting she doesn’t seem at all disturbed by what just went down in here. In fact, she looks pleased as hell about it, even with his fingerprints still marking her neck.
Indignation stirs in me as he slaps her on the ass and nods to the hallway. “Go finish up that paperwork. I need to catch up with my brother.”
“Your brother, huh?” She offers me a devilish smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah.” I look away because this is uncomfortable as fuck.
She leaves, and I release a breath as Adam laughs. “Sorry, bro, I didn’t know you were coming. Let me just go get cleaned up real quick. I’ll be back in a few.”
I nod, and he disappears into the adjoining bathroom. I mutter a few silent curses as I try to process what the fuck I just saw, then distract myself by looking around his office. He’s made the space his own since Stefan left. All his high school awards are hung on display on the wall next to his desk, along with a prominent photo of Bianca. It looks so out of place there, like she’s another goddamn trophy he’s won, and it rubs me the wrong way.
Something buzzes on the desk, and when I glance at his phone, Bianca’s name flashes across the screen. It’s a text message. My eyes move to the bathroom door, and I can still hear the faucet on inside, so I lean closer to have a look. The first thought I have is if it’s the same number she was using to text me in Bethesda, and I have to see it for myself. Adam’s had the same pin for as long as I can remember, and when I punch it in, it unlocks his phone, just as I suspected.
I scroll through his contacts, confirming there’s only one number for Bianca, and it’s not the same one I have. But something else catches my attention, stirring a different memory when I see the contact labeled “AFT.” Before I left, Adam told me Bianca programmed that name into his phone. He said it meant Adam’s Fuck Toy. But when I open the messages, it’s clear as day that it’s not Bianca. Whoever this woman is sends him naked photos almost daily, and it looks like they still talk regularly, mostly about him fucking her.
Acid bubbles up my throat as I close out of that conversation, wondering why Adam would have lied to me about that. He told me Bianca was crazy. That she couldn’t go two minutes without texting him because she wanted him all day, every day. He also told me he was faithful to her, which was obviously another lie. The only thing I can think was he didn’t want me to out him, or maybe it was some weird flex that he needed people to think Bianca was obsessed with him.
I’m not sure, but I find myself doing something else I shouldn’t because I have to know. I pull up her messages, staring at the last one she sent him. It’s a photo of her in a bedroom I don’t recognize. She’s staring at the camera, expressionless, wearing a plain black tee shirt, with her hair pulled back and a clean face. She looks fucking miserable, and I don’t understand why she’d send him a picture that looks like a mug shot. The caption simply reads, “at home.”
The faucet in the bathroom shuts off, and the paper towel dispenser engages as I frantically scroll back through the messages, only to see another six from today with the same pattern. Photos of her in different locations, along with status updates of where she is. And as I go further back, it seems to be an everyday occurrence. There are few actual texts between them, except for the occasions when Adam tells her to call him. Or to take off her makeup. To change her shirt. Asking where she is. Why she hasn’t texted him yet.