Page 77 of Games We Play
“You look great, sis. Hope you’re having fun in Chicago. Miss you.”
Leah was tempted to text Melissa about what happened with Sloan, but didn’t. Why not? Why didn’t she blast her friends with the scandal that happened in the windy city?
Because it was so, soembarrassing.
They would chide her for getting into bed with Sloan so quickly. They’d ask her what the hell she was thinking. Was it the money? The thrill of being with someone so dominant in personality?Yes… yes… it was everything.Already, Leah was thinking of Sloan in the past tense. Why wouldn’t she? It was obvious what she had to do. It was over. She couldn’t be with a married woman, let alone one who had lied about it.
She hurriedly drank the rest of her latte. It was the only way to wash down the realization that she also had some scary skeletons inhercloset. Ones Sloan wouldn’t be able to believe.
“Ms. Vaughn.”
Leah didn’t look up from her empty cup. “So,” she said, feeling Sean’s presence behind her, “you found me, huh?”
He said nothing.
“If your boss is hurting to see me, tell her that I’m not in the mood to do this right now.”
Someone pulled out the chair across from her. At first, Leah assumed it was Sean – but when she looked up, she met the steady gaze of a woman she had been afraid to see again ever since she left the apartment a few blocks away.
“You could simply tell me to my face. Sean’s only here to make sure my shitty excuse for a husband doesn’t bother us again.”
Leah bristled, that chill claiming her spine as cold as the ice she willed to grow around her heart. Sloan leaned against the table. Her attempt to make eye contact was noted, but Leah refused to respond.
“Suppose I should explain myself, huh?”
Finally, Leah considered her (ex?) girlfriend with a sigh of disbelief. “That would be nice, I suppose.”
Sloan nodded to her bodyguard before getting up. “Not here, though. I’d prefer not to get into my dirty laundry in public.” Both she and Sean waited for Leah to stand up from the table as well. “I’ll take you home. My real home.”
Leah refused to take a step forward. “He’s not going to be there, is he?”
“Perhaps.” Sloan shrugged. “We live in completely different areas of the house, with different keys and security. We won’t see him.”
“Like we weren’t supposed to see him at the small apartment, huh?”
That slapped Sloan across her cheek. “He has a key to that place. We share it.”
Leah was flabbergasted.I can’t believe this. What kind of woman is she? Doesn’t she have any dignity at all?
She went with Sloan and Sean, not because she wanted to, but because she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t afford her own hotel room, and she was afraid to ask Sloan to pay for one. Nor did she have any friends in Chicago who could help her. The best Leah could hope for was a quick end to her misery, and if that meant going to Sloan’s penthouse several blocks away, then so be it.
Gone were the flirtations they showered one another with as late as that morning. Leah kept her distance from Sloan, and in return, Sloan did not offer her hand, a kiss, or sweet words that may smooth things over. She was saving her breaths for a better explanation, apparently, and that would not happen in the car.
Leah knew Sloan was more than rich enough to afford one of the nicest penthouses in Chicago, but she was not prepared for a three-level home near Lake Michigan, nor did she anticipate a plethora of staff people rushing to Sloan’s command. How much were these people paid? Did they work full time?
“This way,” she said, veering immediately to the left as soon as they entered the grand foyer of the penthouse. Another elevator awaited to take them up two more floors. The glass overlooking the foyer allowed Leah to press her nose closer to the golden chandelier ostentatiously glittering above the spiral staircase.
You’ve got to be kidding me.Not even the nicest hotel in Portland was this grand.
“That leads to the shared living quarters,” Sloan explained, catching Leah tracing the steps on the grand staircase with her eyes. “Kitchen, dining room, library and entertainment room… I don’t go in there much. I have the run of the third floor, though. I think you’ll like it.”
Leah glanced at her.
“I decorated it. All this crap,” Sloan motioned to the marble floors, chandelier, and staff members running about in short skirts and cleavage, “is nothing but Aaron.”
“Your husband.” Leah still couldn’t get over it.
“Yes.” At least Sloan didn’t try to deny it. “My husband of almost thirteen years.”
