Banging the waitress.

While I looked on in horror.

I didn't know what to do. I had been so excited about the phone call for the most amazing job ever that I had literally ran the four blocks to Chad's apartment, the one I had a drawer and part of the closet at, to tell him the good news.

I had ignored the locked door and the strange sounds I heard inside, my excitement and eagerness at telling the news to my soon-to-be fiancé overriding everything. Well, now ex-soon-to-be fiancé.

She moaned, arching her back and flipping her bleach blonde hair around as he railed her from behind. They were both so busy cheating that neither one had heard the front door open. I had no idea what to do next.

Do I knock on the bedroom door and ask politely what was going on? Did I turn around and leave? Come back later after breakfast? This wasn't exactly something polite manners of society covered. So, I did the first thing that popped into my head.

I threw a lamp at them.

Glass shattered above the headboard. I hated that lamp anyway. The ugly off-white lampshade hit Chad in the head and I smiled. It had been a split second decision not to throw it directly at him, so I was glad something had at least hit him. The two illicit lovers froze mid pump, both of them turning at the same moment to see where the flying lamp had come from.

“You don't find her that hot, huh?” I asked, looking Chad in the eye. He at least had the decency to blush. He had, after all, told me several times that there was nothing going on between him and Charity. Nothing. They were just friends. He tipp

ed her well because she was nice, not because she had a big rack.

“Ava, I can explain. It's not what it looks like...” he started, grabbing a pillow to cover himself. Charity scampered away from Chad, trying to wrap herself up in the tangled sheets and disappear. It didn't work very well.

I laughed, but it was more to keep from sobbing than actually finding the situation amusing. “It looks like you're banging the hot waitress two weeks before we were going to go look at rings. I'm not quite sure how it can look like anything else.”

Chad scrambled off the bed. I used to like the way he looked, but today I couldn't stand him. He worked out regularly and had a great body. Nice arms, a great chest, the beginnings of a six-pack, but skinny chicken legs. The man really needed to not skip leg day.

“We're done, Chad,” I stated, backing away. I was really proud that my voice didn't waver, even if tears were running down my face. “We're done.”

“Ava, please,” Chad begged, stuffing his legs into a pair of pants as I backed out of the room.

“I'll have someone come get my things.” I looked over at Charity. She had made herself as small in the bed as humanly possible. I shook my head and considered throwing another lamp.

Suddenly I saw things in a new light. This wasn't the first time they had done this. Chad had missed too many breakfast meetings, explained away strange clothes in his apartment— had I actually believed that those panties were his sister's? And I had believed him. I had believed every lying word. I was so stupid.

“Ava, please don't do this,” Chad implored, struggling with the denim.

“Don't do what, Chad?” I snapped. “Cheat on you, all while pretending to want to marry you? Oh wait, you did that. I didn't do anything.”

“Please let me explain.” He held out his hands, asking me to just stay for a moment. “We're meant to be together.”

I wanted to hit him so bad. I wanted to wind up and just clock him in his square jaw or break his handsome nose. I had thought I was so special because Chad Malin, the old high school quarterback and popular kid, liked me. Dated me. Had talked about going to look at wedding rings so he would know what style I liked. I had wondered how someone like him, someone who could have any girl in town, had picked me.

Now I knew. He hadn't picked me.

“Explain? You want to explain why you're wearing your new girlfriend's jeans?”

He looked down at his new skinny jeans with pink stitching and cursed. I turned to leave, but he caught my hand. Again, I nearly slugged him. The last person in the entire world I wanted touching me was that slime-ball. I wrenched my wrist out of his grasp, leaving him grasping at thin air.

“Ava, baby...” He flashed me his trademark smile, the one that had made me weak in the knees just yesterday. Now I saw how fake it was. How fake he was. “Baby, we have plans. We're going places...”

“Yup,” I interrupted. “I'm going away from you.”

With that, I turned and stormed out of the house.

He didn't try and follow me.

***

Please, baby. You're never going to do better than me.

Tags: Krista Lakes Billionaires and Brides Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net