Page 50 of The Pursuit of Happiness (Satan’s Angels #2)

Sly claims my lips with his, kissing me with intent. He reaches for my hand that was just between my legs and brings it to his mouth, licking and sucking my fingers clean. “You taste so fucking good.”

He has a dark look in his eyes before he tosses me back on the bed and parts my thighs. I catch sight of his cock already hardening again and the last thing I think to myself before he grins at me and kisses me hungrily, is how much I fucking love him.

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I BURY MY FACE in Sly’s pillow as the sound of the shower spraying from the bathroom floods my ears.

Sly walked off after his third and my fifth orgasm, to take a shower and asked me to join, but my legs feel very unsupportive at the moment.

I snuggle into the bed and allow myself to close my eyes for a moment, just one moment.

I promise myself that when I fully come down from my orgasms, I’ll take a shower and get dressed.

I’m distracted however, when I hear a buzzing sound coming from the nightstand next to me.

The nightstand that Sly had stocked with things for when I stay over.

What could he have put in there that would be buzzing?

My eyes shoot open as an idea comes to me.

Could he have put a vibrator in there? If he did, why would it be vibrating of its own accord?

Curious, I army crawl closer to the edge of the bed and open the top drawer where the sound is coming from.

I peek inside and look around for a vibrator, but find nothing.

I move my hand around, rusting through some tampons, a hair brush, some makeup wipes, and lotions.

I blush at how thoughtful all of the items inside the drawer are.

He put so much thought into preparing to cover my every need.

I still hear the buzzing, but haven’t uncovered the source.

I sit up straighter, propping myself on my elbows to get a better look inside.

I finally feel something vibrating in my hand and pull it out to get a better look at what it is.

When my eyes land on it, I stop breathing completely and my heart sinks in my chest as time seems to stop.

In my hand is a phone. Not just any phone.

Dallas’ words come back to mind, We managed to trace the model of the phone.

It’s a small, blue metallic phone and is not a smartphone.

In my hand is a blue, metallic phone that most certainly isn’t a smartphone.

It stops ringing and I press the home button, sitting up on my heels now, completely focused.

I sort through the contacts in the phone to find none, before I open the camera.

When my eyes take in the very sex tape that started this whole thing, idling in this phone’s camera feature, I feel the color drain from my face.

This is the phone. This is the phone that distributed the sex tape. This was the phone Dallas was looking for. This is the phone that belongs to the person who distributed the tape. So why is it in the nightstand Sly had stocked for me? Why is it in Sly’s house?

Reality sinks in as I realize two horrible things at once. The first is that Sly owns this phone and has been lying to me the entire time, putting up an act from day one, and the second, the most painful, is that he never really loved me.

Betrayal sprouts in my stomach and crawls its way up my throat. My eyes water with hot, hurt and angry tears, and I feel my heart shattering into dust.

I sit here, frozen for God only knows how long before the sound of the shower water stopping catches my attention.

He’ll be coming out of the bathroom any second.

I hurry to leap out of bed and get dressed, grabbing the first thing I can find, my dress from earlier.

I hate this dress, but I’m in no position to complain. I need to get the fuck out of here.

I hurry to put it back on and zip it up just as he opens the door and steps out in nothing but a towel.

I hate how I’m still attracted to him. I hate how I can still admire someone who lied to me and played with me for months.

I hate that I trusted him and believed him when he said he wasn’t involved in the tape.

When his eyes land on me and my disheveled state, the smile on his face falls. His eyes roam from my face, to my dress, and finally to my hand that holds the phone so tightly. His eyes narrow on the phone, “What is that?” He asks.

I try to fight the tears back. I won’t let him have my tears. He’s already taken so much. “You tell me,” I command, betrayal in my voice.

He walks closer and I hold a hand out for him to stop. He looks hurt and so confused and I don’t buy any of it. “Aria, what’s going on? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” I ask, hatred in my voice.

He shakes his head in complete feigned confusion, “Like you hate me.”

He plays the dutiful boyfriend part so well that I have to remind myself it’s all based on lies.

Every single kiss, every touch, every smile, all of it was a lie.

Our relationship was a lie and he used me.

He never loved me. All he cared about was ruining me and my career and for what?

Is this about the Muse Award? I feel so violated, I want to shrivel inside myself and die.

I laugh through my pain, “Hate you? I fucking despise you.”

He flinches, “What? Why are you saying that?”

I raise the phone higher and he catches sight of the blue metallic gleam when it meets the light. Realization makes its way across his face and I watch as he realizes I found his phone. That he’s been caught. “Where did you find that?”

I seethe, “I found it in the nightstand. The one you stocked up for me. Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find it?”

He shakes his head, a confused look in his eyes, “Woah woah, wait. You think I put it there?”

I’m practically screaming, “Who else would’ve put it there, Slater?”

He tries to take a step closer but I snap, “Do not fucking come near me! Do not touch me!”

I watch as he seems to crumble, “You think it’s mine?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“It isn’t mine, Aria,” he looks sincere but I don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. He’s lost my trust completely.

I scoff, “You expect me to believe a word that comes out of your mouth after I just discovered that all of this was a lie?”

He snaps, “None of this was a lie.”

I bellow, “Don’t you dare try to keep this charade up.” I feel the tears rising. I need to get out of here before they fall.

I try to charge around him but he grabs my arms. “I would never do this to you. I didn’t put the phone there and I most certainly didn’t have it. I’ve never seen that phone before just now.”

I shake my head and push him off me, “Stop lying to me.” My voice cracks and a treacherous tear falls. I want to wipe it away but he’s already seen it. I take a deep breath as they all start to stream down my cheeks, “I am such a fool for ever believing you actually loved me.”

He reaches for me but I step around him, “No! Aria, no! You have to listen to me! Please!”

I ignore him and continue rushing out of his room.

I hurry down the stairs and he’s hot on my heels.

I grab my heels and don’t even bother to put them on, too desperate to get out.

I open the front door to leave but he slams it shut with one palm from behind me and turns me, pressing my back against the door as his arms cage me in with his body.

“I never once lied to you, Aria. Not once,” his eyes look red rimmed and glassy as if he’s about to cry himself.

I angle my face away from his, unable to look at him. “Just tell me one thing and please for once just tell me the truth. Was it about the Muse Award the whole time?”

He slams his fist against the door, “Goddammit, Aria! You aren’t listening to me. None of this has been a lie and I most certainly don’t give a single fuck about that award.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head as more tears stream down my cheeks. Why can’t he just tell me the truth? Why not just grant me this slight pity?

I turn and reach for the door knob, trying to open it, but he won’t let me. He keeps his hand pressed against the door. “Please. Just let me go,” I beg through tears, facing the wall.

He hesitates for a few moments before he removes his hand. “I’m begging you to listen to me,” he pleads, a weight to his voice.

I open the door and take a step out, not wanting to hear what he has to say. I can’t trust a word that comes from his mouth. I will never look at him the same again.

Just as I’m about to close the door behind myself, I choke out, “I actually believed that you loved me. I let myself fall in love with you. I gave myself to you and the entire time, you were using me and playing games with me.”

Against my better judgment, I chance a look at him over my shoulder to find tears rolling down his cheeks. He shakes his head, “This was a setup, Aria. None of it was a lie between us. I do love you.”

The part of me that still loves him wants to believe him, but I ignore that part of me as I shake my head, “I can never trust you again.” My voice comes out so low it almost sounds like a broken whisper.

I hurry down the stairs and away from him without glancing one last time. The only thing I have is the phone and my heels as I walk and walk.

An hour later I’m still walking, unsure of where I’m going.

I just need to keep going because if I stop, if I allow myself to stop, it will all catch up to me.

I feel so numb, so betrayed and broken. I want to sink to my knees and sob, but I just can’t feel anything right now aside from this heartbreak.

The tears have stopped long ago and I feel like an empty shell of myself, wandering around the streets of Los Angeles at this time of night with the phone that started it all, and this heart.

This heart that hurts and feels like it will never beat again.