“Well, Ethan and I…” I trail off.
Cheryl looks at me. “Ethan and you, what?”
I roll my eyes as if asking her if she really needs me to spell out the fact that we were fucking.
“Right,” Cheryl says after a minute. “You fucked him.”
“Or he fucked me, you know?” I say, giving her some sass. “It was kind of mutual.”
“Do you always sleep with your clients?” Cheryl asks me.
“It’s been my philosophy to get to know someone since high school,” I tell her sweetly as she raises her eyebrows at me. Fuck her. Interrogating me and shit.
"Did you just so happen to develop that philosophy at … say … Man Chasers LLC?" she asks.
When she says this I'm floored. How did she know that? And I'm sure that shock is written all over my face.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh come on Brittney," she says. "Do you think I don't know? I know all about your business."
"This has nothing to do with my business," I say. There's no use lying and trying to tell her that Man Chaser's LLC doesn't exist. She obviously knows all about it. I have to just go with it.
"I hope not," she says.
"Being an actress for Illicit Entertainment has nothing to do with my previous work," I say, confirming my stance.
"For your sake, I hope you're right," Cheryl says. Her gaze has intensified. "Because if you try to pull something here, you'll regret it. That much I can promise."
I've honestly never heard this tone from Cheryl before and it catches me off guard. Our encounters, up till this point, have been cordial.
I mean, I'm now in a hard place. I'm standing here—just moments from being caught, and I have stolen data on a USB drive hidden inside of my thong. I hid it there right when Cheryl came in. This is an act that can land me in jail.
"This has gotten blown way out of proportion," I say. "I was just searching for an earring. I promise."
Cheryl doesn't say anything further, and instead gives me one last icy stare before turning on her heels and walking back out the door. I also leave. My heart is pounding, and I need to get as far away from this place as possible.
"Well that was close," I hear Walter say in my earpiece. He heard that entire conversation, but I nearly forgot he was there.
I whisper back, in a tone that's barely audible so that no one else can hear me, "Yeah, too fucking close for comfort."
I find my things—my change of clothes, and my purse. I pull my cell phone from my purse to check and see if I have any messages, and as I'm scrolling through, a new text message chimes in.
It's from Simon and reads, "DO U HAVE IT YET?"
First off, I hate it when people type in all caps. Do you know what I mean? It's literally one of my biggest pet peeves—in texts, emails, you name it. It's like they're yelling. I'm not a fucking kid; calm down.
So reading Simon's text instantly irritates me on one hand, and on the other hand, it reminds of the stakes. If I don't get this data to Simon quickly, I'm jeopardizing my life.
Just as I'm about to reply, a second text message chimes in. This time, it's from Ethan. It reads: "I'd like to finish what we started in my office. Want to meet up again?"
I'm instantly torn. If I'm honest, I'd love for nothing more than to be back in Ethan's arms, slowly peeling our clothes off and fucking each other until we can't fuck any more. The minute his text chimed in, my pulse quickened in excitement. It was like getting an extra dose of endorphins.
Shit. What am I even saying? And what am I going to do? Am I falling for Ethan?
I've never had these feelings with other men—it was only when Ethan came into my life …
I look at both texts. Do I tell Simon I have the data he's been looking for? If I tell him, he'll demand the USB right now. And if I hand that data to him, it's over.