Read Online Secrets and Sins: Chayot: A Secrets and Sins novel (Entangled Ignite) by Naima Simone - Free Book Online Page A

me?”
    “No.” He cocked his head to the side, and relief poured over her. “And you? Is there a man in Los Angeles pining away and counting the days until you return?”
    “You mean besides my manager, Liam?” She smirked. “Nope. Been there, bought the T-shirt, and torched the damn thing on my front lawn.”
    “That bad?”
    She stared at him. “You obviously don’t read the tabloids.”
    “Not really interested in a hundred-and-twenty-year-old grandma having quintuplets,” he said wryly.
    “Oh my God!” She pressed her palm to her chest. “You cracked a joke.” She pretended to swoon, and he grunted, but she spied the smile ghosting across his mouth. Warmth and triumph filled her chest, and she barely managed to not pump a fist. “But yes, that bad. My last relationship before”— before my life plummeted to hell in a hand basket —“moving here was with opera singer Lorenzo Argiolas.”
    “Lorenzo?” He snorted.
    “Hey.” She poked a finger at him. “Don’t judge. Anyway, we dated for a couple of months before he was caught red-handed with another woman. Or should I say bare-assed since he and the girl—and I do mean girl, since she was barely eighteen—were busted having sex in a car at a park by none other than a reporter—and I use that term very loosely.”
    Chay’s eyes widened a fraction, his only visible reaction. “By the press? You’re shittin’ me.” Well, the curse was another giveaway of his shock. “I don’t know how you stand living your life under the microscope. That’s a hell of a way to find out your boyfriend’s cheating.”
    “Yeah, well, wish I was kidding.” She sounded flippant, but the humiliation and hurt lingered. Especially since, as Chay pointed out, it’d been so public. Lorenzo and the girl hadn’t been caught by some random person, but by a tabloid reporter and photographer. The media coverage and backlash had been immediate and explosive. For her. Another man cheating on his girlfriend hadn’t been as salacious a story as why he’d resorted to sneaking around on Aslyn Jericho after dating her for only two months. Was she as frigid as reported? Did this validate the rumors of her sexuality? Did she prefer women to sexy, male opera singers? For weeks, the avaricious press had circled her, hunted her down for a sound bite they could air or twist. Until then, she’d been a darling of the media, but with one selfish, betraying act of her boyfriend, she’d sunk to media fodder. So yeah, while she didn’t—had never—loved Lorenzo, the pain loitered like a persistent panhandler.
    “I’m just glad I followed the ninety-day rule and didn’t give up the cookie before then.”
    “Okay, slow down. I follow what ‘the cookie’ is,” he drawled. “But you lost me on the ninety-day rule.”
    “You never heard of Steve Harvey’s ninety-day rule?” When he remained silent, she sighed. “No sex with a man you’ve been seeing for at least three months, because in that time he’ll begin to reveal more about himself, commit himself, and not dip his wick in anyone else’s cookie jar. Obviously, Lorenzo failed.”
    “Name aside, he’s an asshole. Real men don’t have to screw everything that breathes to prove their manhood.” He stated that with such fierce conviction, she blinked. And wondered if he’d spoken from experience. “That he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants doesn’t reflect on you but his own inadequacies. And did I mention he’s an asshole?”
    No crying. Nuh-uh. Not gonna do it. How was it possible he was the first person to assure her the whole fiasco with Lorenzo hadn’t been her fault? Oh, people had made the appropriate noises, called him names, yada yada yada. But not one had said the words “It’s not your fault.” Technically, Chay hadn’t either but… That’s what he’d meant.
    She hopped down off the stool and returned to the coffee pot, refilling her cup. Once she’d batted back the stinging moisture in