Page 22 of Fraud
FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCEScandalhad released, I awoke, thinking about something other than the ninety-five-thousand words that had irrevocably changed my life.
I wish I could say it was a good feeling.
But, the instant my eyelids rose and the vision of Killian and his baby blues came into my mind, so did the tequila shots.
And the four other drinks I’d consumed.
“Oh God!” I groaned.
Bolting upright, I made a beeline from my tiny bedroom—bypassing the clothes I’d stripped off hours earlier when I stumbled into bed, delirious and happy—to the bathroom.
I won’t elaborate on the next few minutes.
It wasn’t pretty, but let’s just say, it was reminiscent of my early college days when morning classes could be skipped, and the topknot and two-day-old makeup was a perfectly acceptable look on any given Thursday.
Today, in the real world—or at least, the one I lived in—I’d be skinned alive if I showed up to work in my current state.
This is what I get for going out with Jane.
Stomping around my room, I grabbed my phone, checking for messages.
I had one. From Jane herself.
Checking in on you before I catch my flight. Hope you’re not too bad off this morning. Love you.
And there was even a selfie attached.
Jane’s hair was flawlessly pulled back in a bun, her makeup expertly applied, as she waved to the camera at the security gate at Portland International Airport. I snarled, throwing the phone down onto the bed, wondering how I could possibly be friends with someone who could look that exquisite and put together after three hours of sleep.
After a quick shower, where I tried to convince my stomach it was in fact completely healed and didn’t need to expel anything more, I attempted to get ready for work.
I knew I was running late, so I opted for the first outfit I could find—a pair of black pants and a flattering blouse. It was something Jane had bought me several years ago when I flew out to visit her during summer break. It was pricey and had a designer label I didn’t recognize. I rarely wore it due to my proclivity for coffee spills.
But, today, I wasn’t feeling especially nostalgic, and I guessed I could always replace it myself.
I was loaded after all.
I shook my head, ridding that crazy thought from my brain.
It was something I tried to avoid thinking about—the idea of money.
Jane had tried to bring it up on multiple occasions, asking me what I’d do. “Will you leave your job? Buy a house? Travel?”
No, to all of the above.
I just wanted things to stay the same.
So, I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I went to work, I did my job, and I came home, like I had done every single day for the last six years.
The moment I stopped? The moment I stepped out of this coveted routine?
Well, that was when all of this—the money, the fame, and everything that came with the success of this book—would become a reality.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for that.
Thankfully, when I rolled into work, I discovered our office had a busy day ahead of us, which meant no morning coffee talk. Everyone was already settling into work, the office so quiet, you could hear the steady sound of typing as progress was made.
