“That’s right, baby. Only you. I loveyou.Once I get back into the league, I’ll be free and clear. Having a Goody Two-shoes like Chloe? It’ll help improve my image. Show them that I’m a changed man so a team will finally pick me up again.”
A changed man? Free and clear? Fromme?
Anger boils in my veins. Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?
The man on the other side of this door is telling another woman thathelovesher. The same man who toldmehe loved me yesterday before I left for the hotel and packed my bag for the honeymoon.
Not wanting to give away my position, I tiptoe back the way I came. My vision blurs as tears of rage gather in my eyes.
I’mboring? If I’m so boring, why would Duncan propose to me? We’d only been back together for a few months before he proposed, and I’ve spent the better part of the last eight or so months planning the wedding. Fast? Maybe, but people fall in love and get married way faster than that.
Was ittoofast? Was it only so he could get picked up by a team again? Is that why there’s another woman?
I cannot believe I let myself get suckered in by this man.
Duncan Fletcher. The man I thought I was in love with is actually the biggest douche nozzle on the planet.
Bursting back into my room, I slam the door shut behind me and find my bag. I pull out my phone and start typing away a message to the Fletcher that will never let me down.
Chloe
I need you
His response is immediate.
Dax
Is everything okay?
No
Bring your car keys
Fuck. What happened?
Just get here now
“Chloe?Honey? We need to get going if the ceremony is going to start on time,” Mom’s voice rings through the door.
“I need a few more minutes,” I call back.
“Chloe, we can’t keep everyone waiting.”
“They’re not going to start without me!” I snap.
There’s muttering on the other side of the door. Honestly, I don’t care at this point. Whatever I was feeling before is nothing compared to now as I pace in front of the mirror. I catch sight of my dress and it turns the anger into fury.
How could I let myself get this far?
Grabbing the hem of the dress, I rip it. Hard. God, I hate this frock, and the sound of shredding fabric fills myears. I keep ripping until every scrap of fabric is off my body. I breathe a sigh of relief as the material falls away.
Piles of organza silk and satin lie in ruined piles on the floor as I stand in my corset.
“You think I’m boring now, Duncan?” I kick the material out of the way, running to the closet to grab my jacket and sweatpants.
If I’m going to get out of here, I need to at least be wearing something.
“Chloe? Are you okay?”
