Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Why am I the one leaving?” He’s the one who needs to get out of my house!
I stalk back to my bedroom. Dex is standing in the same spot I left him in.
“You can’t just decide to date me because it might be good for your image,” I spit out. “It’s not fair to any of us, and I cannot for the life of me believe you thought this would end well. Or didn’t you care about that?”
“Margot, I’m just telling you what Trent and I discussed, that’s all. I’m not saying he meddles in my business, but he likes to meddle in my business.” He attempts to make a joke, the cheeky grin never making it to his eyes.
“Is it his job?” Why am I allowing him to keep talking?
Dex nods. “Kind of, yes. The more money I make, the more money he makes. The more popular I am in the news, the more my stock goes up for the team I play for, the more money I make.”
“Wow. That’s . . . sad.” I pat him on the arm sympathetically. Sarcastically. “Listen. I’m so sorry you’re in this position, but there is not a chance in hell I’m going to pretend to date anyone. It’s insulting.”
I don’t want to see him again. Not to go to the movies, not to go for ice cream, not for a free afternoon or a free dinner.
“I think we’re done here,” I breathe out. “You need to figure out your shit. What you really want. If it’s not me, and you’re only after some calculated move, then we have nothing left to say to each other.”
“Margot, come on.”
“Margot, come on,” I repeat. “That’s all you have to say?”
He nods. “I’m scared to keep talking because I don’t want to get yelled at.”
Oh my God.
I almost laugh—almost.
At least he’s honest.
“Please just get out of my house.” I stand aside so he’s able to walk out of my room without touching me. The last thing I want are his lying, traitorous hands on me.
He stops in the foyer, turning to face me, and from the looks of him, he’s going to plead his case one more time. “Margot . . .”
“I said get out.”
Chapter 31
Dex
I am a fucking idiot.
For real.
Why was I stupid enough to take that phone call with Trent with Margot in the room?
Why didn’t I lie to her to spare her the details?
Because, asshole, you’re a fucking idiot!
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that you should Never tell a woman you’re dating her because someone told you to because it would be good for business.
I am seriously a bona fide jackass.
Spiraling into self-loathing typically isn’t my MO, but today I haven’t been able to stop myself from wallowing in my bad decisions.
My cell phone rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. It’s Trent, again. Of course it is, the timing of his call not lost on me. God must be punishing me for being a douchebag.
I hesitate before answering. Take a couple of cleansing breaths.
“Yeah?”
“You said you were going to call me back when you were alone,” he barks, getting straight to it.
“I don’t recall telling you I’d call back.” And even if I had, it would have been a lie. “I don’t even know why we need to have a conversation about this in the first place. Things are going great.”
Are.
Were.
Past tense.
“The paps got a picture of you leaving her house last night, and you looked pissed, so we should get ahead of it. Damage control.”
The paps catching me looking pissed isn’t news, and it isn’t new. I’m a big dude and often look angry—why the hell should I have to stomp around blowing sunshine and roses up everyone’s ass all the time?
“Damage control?” I run a hand down my face. “That’s all you can think about right now? My relationship has gone to shit.”
“You know how this works.” My agent ignores my whining. “They get pictures, we post a comment. Whatever you did to make your girlfriend mad, apologize—make a grand gesture, do whatever it takes because it’s too soon for a breakup announcement. Not when we just leaked that you’re dating her.”
Unfuckingbelievable.
I feel a surge of anger. “Jesus Christ, if only it was that simple. You are my agent, not my publicist. This isn’t just about my image or my career. This is about Margot, her daughter, and the mess I’ve made.”
“Margot isn’t my responsibility—you are. No offense, but I really couldn’t give a shit about how some random woman you’re dating feels right now.”
I am not on her payroll. His unspoken words linger.
Trent sighs, clearly frustrated with my lack of cooperation the same way I’m frustrated by his lack of consideration for Margot.
“Dex, you have to separate your personal feelings from your professional obligations. This is what you signed up for.”