Page 100 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 10
The Star-Spangled Banner started playing in the speakers. I put my hand over my heart. As I stood there listening to the music, the horrible realization of what I had just done hit me hard.What the fuck did I just do?Before the performance I had been horrified by the thought of stripping down to my underwear in front of the cameras. And then I had come out here and given blowjobs to two strangers and gotten naked in front of the entire world. Those things would forever be available on the internet for anyone to view, if they hadn't seen it already. Images flooded into my head of me introducing myself to someone and them saying, "Oh, I know you. You sure are good at deep-throating."
And what is Bryce going to think of me? He had to have been one of the guys standing behind me, but I didn't understand why he didn't try to stop me. I really thought the first guy was him. And then when it wasn't, my hormones willingly let me believe that the second guy was. Why the hell was I so gullible? Any normal person would have thought the second guy was lying too. Hell, any normal person wouldn't have sucked a guys cock behind a flag in the first place! I didn't even know if the man I loved had planned it, or had been horrified, or...
The national anthem ended and the crowd cheered again for me.
The man I love.I was in love with Bryce. But there was no way he'd want me now. Not after what I had just done.
I turned toward the side of the stage again. And there he was. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and his lips were set in a straight line. His arms were folded across his chest. He looked pissed. He looked so, so pissed at me.Oh my God.My chest started to hurt. It felt like I couldn't breathe. There was no way he had planned it. He looked so upset. He looked so hurt. And I was the one that had hurt him.
Bryce dropped my gaze and looked down at the ground.
Oh God.
All I could hear was this weird buzzing in my ears. I was numb to the cheers of the crowd. It felt like my heart had just broken into a million pieces. I needed air. I needed to not be standing on a stage in just a towel. And I couldn't look at Bryce being hurt. Knowing that it was my fault.
I felt the tears start to run down my cheeks. I jumped off the medal podium and ran in the opposite direction of Bryce.
I could have sworn I heard him yell my name. But clearly I didn't know his voice. Because Gabriela was right. I was a total slut.
I turned down a hallway, trying not to break my ankles in my heels. I stopped for a second and pulled them off so I could run even faster. When I reached my dressing room, I threw open the door and locked it behind me. Luckily my stylists weren't there. They had probably been watching the performance too.Ugh.
I immediately went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I felt so dirty after what I had done that all I wanted to do was take a shower. I imagined this was how it felt after a bad one night stand. But this wasn't dinner at Olive Garden followed by subpar sex with a selfish lover. This was blowjobs being broadcast around the world while Bryce watched in horror. Even though I could wash all the makeup and hairspray off, I could never wash away what had happened.
As I let my towel fall to the floor, I accidently caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.Oh my God.I looked like such a whore. My eye makeup had run everywhere because of my crying, mystockings had runs in them, and the lace on my garter belt had been torn from when one of the fake Bryce's destroyed my thong.
Fuck!Could Bryce ever forgive me for what I had done? I didn't think so. I wouldn't if I was him.
More tears formed in my eyes and I looked away from the mirror. I couldn't look at myself. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to look at myself again.
I stripped off my destroyed lingerie and got in the shower. The water was way hotter than it should have been, but I didn't adjust it. The hot water helped distract me from the shame of what I had just done.
I wasn't nearly done showering when I heard a loud knock on the door to the dressing room. Someone had been knocking earlier too, but I had ignored it. I wasn't ready to talk to anyone, not yet.
Go away.
Another knock. But this time, it was accompanied by someone with a Brazilian accent yelling, "Security, open up."
Security? Shit!I had been so focused on how much I hurt Bryce that I hadn't even thought about the legal implications of what I had just done. I had probably violated a dozen laws on public decency, and now they were coming to arrest me.Will I spend the rest of my life in some Brazilian prison?
"You have 5 seconds before we open the door ourselves," yelled the security guard.
Shit, shit, shit! I have to get out of here!I jumped out of the shower and ran out into the dressing room.
"Hold on," I said. "I'm not dressed." In a panic, I pushed the makeup chair under the door handle, threw on the clothes I had worn to the arena, and grabbed my purse. Thanks to my mini panic attack before the performance, I knew that the window in the bathroom was the perfect escape route. And I intended to make good use of it. Right before crawling out the window, I shoved my stupid gold medal in my purse and grabbed one of the luxurious towels to dry my hair on the go.
I got a few curious looks from the locals as I lowered myself onto the sidewalk. Usually I would have been concerned that they'd think I was weird, but after what I had just done, people seeing me jump out of a window was the least of my worries.
I ran a few blocks to put some distance between me and the security guards, and then I took a quick inventory of what I had in my purse. My cell phone, my wallet, some makeup, and most importantly, my passport. I wouldn't have usually carried it around, but it was required as photo ID in order to board the train from the athletes' village to center city Rio.
While I waited for an Uber to arrive, I got on Expedia.com and searched for the next flight out of Rio. There was only one flight headed to the US with any empty seats left, and it was leaving in ninety minutes. Not nearly enough time to go back to the dorm and get my stuff. Kristen would have to just bring it home for me, if I ever went home. Assuming I made it out of Brazil without being arrested, which at this point seemed to have about a 50/50 chance of happening, I didn't think I could ever gohome. I couldn't imagine how awkward it would be to see my parents. Actually, I could imagine it, and it was mortifying.
***
My heart was pounding the entire time I was in the customs line. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but it seemed like there were way more police officers than was normal for an airport. It didn't really matter how many officers there were, though. I was always going to have to show my passport to one of them to get through the line.
The bored looking officer at the desk said something in Portuguese and waved me over to his desk. I tried to avoid eye contact as I handed him my passport.
He flipped it and then held it up to compare me to the picture in the passport.
