Page 42 of The Hollywood Billionaire's Fangirl Wife

No, no, no.

Her stomach lurched at the scrap of black lace lying discarded on the sofa, and it lurched again when she belatedly noticed the shower running in the background.

No. Please. No.

Cold sweat coated her skin as Jilly stared at the evidence scattered around what was supposed to be her husband’s private space. Her mouth went dry, and every instinct screamed at herto run, to get out before she had to face whatever was happening behind that bathroom door.

But she couldn’t move.

Please, God. Please.

The shower stopped.

The bathroom door opened.

And a woman emerged, giggling and wrapped in nothing but a white towel that barely covered her essentials. Steam followed her out, and she moved with the kind of confident sensuality that spoke of someone completely comfortable in her own skin.

Krista Irvine.

She recognized the other woman right away.

She had to, if she had any self-respect as his fangirl.

Krista was part of Preyer's cast, but that didn't explain why—

The other woman finally noticed Jilly standing by the door. "Oh, hi. Um, do you need anything?"

"Is Guy around?"

"He's in the shower. Are you, like, his older sister or something?"

The words hit Jilly like a punch to the gut, and all she could do was shake her head.

"I'm sorry," she heard herself say stiltedly. "I, um, made a mistake."

She turned and walked away on unsteady legs, forcing herself to move slowly when every fiber of her being wanted to run. She kept walking past trailers and equipment trucks, past crew members who barely glanced at her, past the organized chaos that had seemed so exciting just minutes before.

She walked until her legs could no longer hold up, and she could only dash behind a catering truck before she started throwing up.

God, I don’t understand.

Please.

Save me.

Chapter Fifteen

Jack:Is this payback?

Jack:Are you trying to make me worry?

Jack:What's happening?

GUY SAT ALONE AT Acorner table in the on-set cafeteria, his untouched sandwich curling at the edges under the harsh fluorescent lights, the scent of overcooked burgers and stale coffee filling the air around him.

He’d been sitting here for an hour, staring at nothing while his mind waited for his heart to catch up—

And maybe, just maybe...

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