Page 89 of Free to Judge

“Just. Go.”

I watched him walk out the door. Despite everything, a small part of me let myself believe him.

That was a mistake that will never happen again.

I was halfway through reviewing a file I needed for the office when my phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Jon—a news link to Sexy & Social with no explanation. It isn’t like him to drop a link without calling first.

Then, I get his text.

Jon:

Kalie, I just didn’t want you seeing this and thinking the wrong thing.

I’m certain you guys discussed his cover.

My stomach churned before I even clicked. The link opened to a trending post. An article. A flood of photos.

It’s Declan in all his glory. Apparently, his little speech to me this morning had nothing to do with keeping away in order to keep me safe but being free to sit back and absorb the perks of being part of the mob. After all, what did I have in comparison to the VIP section of a high-end gentleman’s club? Hand trembling, Izoom in on the grin the paparazzi captured like he hadn’t spent last night deep inside of me, moaning my name over and over.

Tears well up in my eyes as I swipe through the photos. There’s a knockout woman trailing her fingers across his broad shoulders. In another, her face is buried against his shoulder from behind. I keep going, swiping through the slideshow of my heartbreak.

She straddled his lap, lips pressed to his ear.

His arm is slung casually around her waist.

Fingers splayed around her hip—the same fingers that traced their way over every inch of my bare skin. Like they had every right to touch her.

Next, his hand grips her hip.

But it’s the final photo that crushes me. Declan’s head rests back against the Chesterfield. Her hand rests against the side of his jaw. He isn’t pushing her away. No, instead, he’s smiling up at her.

Eyes at half-mast, lips pursed. It’s sexy as fuck, that smile.

I should know. It’s the way he smiled at me last night every time he wanted inside my body.

Still gripping the phone, it’s the fastest race of my life as I dash toward the bathroom. I barely make it in time to vomit everything in my stomach. Over and over my stomach heaves and I try to breathe through tears, snot, and bile. Once I finish, I collapse in the small space.

I need to finish this. Hands trembling, I scroll down until I see the headline.

Declan Conian Caught Blowing Off Steam After High-Stakes Business Meeting!

A gurgle of a sound is ripped from me. “Some meeting.” I text Jon back.

Kalie:

You’re sure this was today?

Jon:

You didn’t know?

I can’t disillusion him. My heart pounds as hard as the tears that fall out of my eyes. Over and over, I hit refresh somehow hoping the images will disappear. That Sexy & Social will print a retraction. They’ll admit it was a mistake. A misunderstanding.

Something.

Instead, I’m unable to string together a coherent thought other than the knowledge of one thing.

I need to get out of here.