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Authors: Alice Raine
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until I can straighten it all out.’
Straighten it all out? It seemed pretty straight to me – I’d travelled half way around the world to be told that my boyfriend was actually ‘engaged’ to someone else.
‘Look, let’s go to your hotel and I’ll explain,’ he murmured softly.
My world was practically shattering before my very eyes, but Sean somehow sounded calm and flat and almost dismissive of my shredded emotions, so much so that I could barely take it in, my frayed nerves immediately snapping again.
‘Ah yes, the nice hotel you mentioned earlier?’ I growled at him, feeling quite disgusted. ‘Like I’m some kind of mistress? Hidden away in a hotel so no one sees your bit on the side?’ Spinning on my seat I faced him fully, my eyes bulging and my heart racing to the point where it sounded like it was going to burst in my eardrums. I felt sick with shock, but utterly furious. He could have told me this yesterday before I flew half way around the frigging world!
Sean paled at my agitation, visibly panicking and fidgeting on his seat so repeatedly that it was like he had ants in his pants. Watching him squirm I briefly wished that he did have ants biting his arse. Really big fuckers that would itch for weeks. It would serve him right for putting me through this shit. His eyes darted around my face as he chewed on his lower lip so frantically I was surprised I couldn’t see any blood.
‘Of course not! Just let me explain, Allie, please.’
Glancing down at the article I felt my stomach turn sickeningly as I looked again at the pictures, all of Sean with some waif-like beauty clinging to him. Clearly the ‘Savannah’ that the article referred to.
There was no way I could ever compete with her; she was as skinny as a chopstick, with beautiful brown eyes like a deer, flawless skin, and sleek, shiny chestnut hair that fell all the way to her non-existent waist. Oh God … was that why he liked my hair long? Because it reminded him of her? Fuck. The very idea made me want to shave my head as I began to feel sick to my bones. Just looking at the pictures made me feel dowdy, fat, and distinctly snarky.
‘You want to explain, Sean? Fine. You say this is all fake, but you look pretty flipping friendly in this picture,’ I said, jabbing viciously at a photo in the newspaper. ‘You have your hand on her arse, for fuck’s sake.’
Sean visibly withered before my eyes. ‘I do … but that’s not a recent shot. It was taken last year, well before I’d even met you.’
Last year. Before he’d met me. When it was OK to put his hand on her arse? My lips pursed with instant displeasure – not from jealousy, although I was jealous – but because I distinctly remembered him telling me that he hadn’t slept with anyone for at least two years before meeting me, and yet here was some lovely pictorial evidence that distinctly suggested otherwise.
‘Have you ever dated her? Or do you make a habit of groping women’s arses in public?’ I demanded, my tone seething with barely contained pain.
Sean flinched and then fiddled with his sleeve, a reaction that spoke volumes. ‘Uh … yes … that photo was taken early last year during the last season. Filming lasted a few months and we went out once or twice. That was it, just a couple of dates.’
It seemed he’d lied to me at Christmas when he’d told me he hadn’t slept with anyone for two years. And when he’d said the rumours of him dating his co-stars was untrue.
Bloody bugger it. I was usually so good at spotting a liar that I couldn’t believe I’d missed all this bullshit. And to top it all off he was engaged to her, but apparently that was made up too?
Shaking my head, I blew out a long, trembling breath, desperate not to cry. It seemed that I’d been so swept up by the intensity of the connection between us that I’d fallen for everything he’d said hook, line, and sinker. God, how could I have been so stupid? I felt so naïve it was
Straighten it all out? It seemed pretty straight to me – I’d travelled half way around the world to be told that my boyfriend was actually ‘engaged’ to someone else.
‘Look, let’s go to your hotel and I’ll explain,’ he murmured softly.
My world was practically shattering before my very eyes, but Sean somehow sounded calm and flat and almost dismissive of my shredded emotions, so much so that I could barely take it in, my frayed nerves immediately snapping again.
‘Ah yes, the nice hotel you mentioned earlier?’ I growled at him, feeling quite disgusted. ‘Like I’m some kind of mistress? Hidden away in a hotel so no one sees your bit on the side?’ Spinning on my seat I faced him fully, my eyes bulging and my heart racing to the point where it sounded like it was going to burst in my eardrums. I felt sick with shock, but utterly furious. He could have told me this yesterday before I flew half way around the frigging world!
Sean paled at my agitation, visibly panicking and fidgeting on his seat so repeatedly that it was like he had ants in his pants. Watching him squirm I briefly wished that he did have ants biting his arse. Really big fuckers that would itch for weeks. It would serve him right for putting me through this shit. His eyes darted around my face as he chewed on his lower lip so frantically I was surprised I couldn’t see any blood.
‘Of course not! Just let me explain, Allie, please.’
Glancing down at the article I felt my stomach turn sickeningly as I looked again at the pictures, all of Sean with some waif-like beauty clinging to him. Clearly the ‘Savannah’ that the article referred to.
There was no way I could ever compete with her; she was as skinny as a chopstick, with beautiful brown eyes like a deer, flawless skin, and sleek, shiny chestnut hair that fell all the way to her non-existent waist. Oh God … was that why he liked my hair long? Because it reminded him of her? Fuck. The very idea made me want to shave my head as I began to feel sick to my bones. Just looking at the pictures made me feel dowdy, fat, and distinctly snarky.
‘You want to explain, Sean? Fine. You say this is all fake, but you look pretty flipping friendly in this picture,’ I said, jabbing viciously at a photo in the newspaper. ‘You have your hand on her arse, for fuck’s sake.’
Sean visibly withered before my eyes. ‘I do … but that’s not a recent shot. It was taken last year, well before I’d even met you.’
Last year. Before he’d met me. When it was OK to put his hand on her arse? My lips pursed with instant displeasure – not from jealousy, although I was jealous – but because I distinctly remembered him telling me that he hadn’t slept with anyone for at least two years before meeting me, and yet here was some lovely pictorial evidence that distinctly suggested otherwise.
‘Have you ever dated her? Or do you make a habit of groping women’s arses in public?’ I demanded, my tone seething with barely contained pain.
Sean flinched and then fiddled with his sleeve, a reaction that spoke volumes. ‘Uh … yes … that photo was taken early last year during the last season. Filming lasted a few months and we went out once or twice. That was it, just a couple of dates.’
It seemed he’d lied to me at Christmas when he’d told me he hadn’t slept with anyone for two years. And when he’d said the rumours of him dating his co-stars was untrue.
Bloody bugger it. I was usually so good at spotting a liar that I couldn’t believe I’d missed all this bullshit. And to top it all off he was engaged to her, but apparently that was made up too?
Shaking my head, I blew out a long, trembling breath, desperate not to cry. It seemed that I’d been so swept up by the intensity of the connection between us that I’d fallen for everything he’d said hook, line, and sinker. God, how could I have been so stupid? I felt so naïve it was
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