Moaning.
And it wasn’t Shawn. It belonged to a woman. A woman who shouldn’t be in my fiancé’s penthouse.
Please let him be watching porn, anything but?—
Rounding the corner into the bedroom, I froze.
What the actual fuck?
Shawn was in our bed and some blonde with fake tits was riding him like her life depended on it, her head thrown back in pleasure while my fiancé gripped her hips and groaned her name.
Seeing him fucking someone else in our bed felt like a physical blow. I’d picked out that bed. I’d been the one to order the custom silk sheet from Paris, because he’d liked them when he slept on them after flying out to one of my concerts in London.
What the fuck? This is really happening. This is actually fucking happening.
I glanced around for something to throw at his stupid head, but then I realized something that rocked me to my core; I was pissed. I was furious, humiliated, betrayed—the scandal alone was going to be everywhere by morning. But I wasn’t sad or heartbroken, or any of the things I should be feeling.
What did that even mean?
Standing there like a statue while my fiancé fucked another woman ten feet away from me, I thought about why that was. About why I wasn’t crying or feeling like my world was ending like it had once before. I didn’t feel any of that. I actually felt this weird sense of... relief? Like this weight I hadn’t even realized I was packing around just got lifted off my shoulders.
I never loved him.
The realization struck me like a lightning bolt. Not the way I love Weston–
Nope.
I cut that thought off immediately. That wound never fully healed and still had the power to sting.
But the truth was still the truth. I never loved Shawn. Not really. I loved the idea of him, the safety of him, the way being with him made sense on paper. Football star and country music sweetheart—we were a match made in tabloid heaven.
But love? Real, soul-deep, can’t-live-without-you love?
No. Never.
Taking a deep breath, I was surprisingly calm as I walked closer to the bed. I didn’t give a damn that they were still getting it on. It’s not like either of them had noticed me in the room anyway. They were too caught up in their little performance. (And spoiler alert, she was totally faking with all those noises.)
Ick.
I reached up with steady hands and slid my engagement ring off my finger. I was a little sad about losing it. Four flawless carats and princess cut; she was a beauty.
Dropping it onto the floor, it clinked against the hardwood, and both Shawn and his bimbo finally realized they weren’t alone.
Shawn’s eyes flew open and met mine over the blonde’s shoulder. It was almost comical to watch his face go from white to red, then white again. “Hattie!”
I shook my head. “I hope she was worth it.” With that, I turned on my heel and headed right back the way I came.
The elevator doors closed behind me with a soft whoosh, and I leaned back against the wall, finally allowing myself to breathe.
Well, shit. Now what?
Chapter Two
Bash
Sittingat my desk in my office at the Pretty Kitties, I shuffled through the first half of the night’s take when I noticed movement in my peripheral.
Glancing up, Gator was standing in the doorway.
