Page 100 of For the Boys
Her worst fears were coming true; she had been terrified of not being enough for Brent, of him fucking around with someone else behind her back.
Having been cheated on and made a fool of once before, she would not be that stupid again.
“Brent,” she called when she heard the shower turn off, struggling to keep her voice calm amid the hurricane of hurt and anger and betrayal and embarrassment swirling inside her.
He poked his head out of the bathroom door, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. “Yeah, babe?”
She held his phone out. “Who the fuck is Anna?”
Chapter Nineteen
Brent
Shit.
Brent sputtered, groping for a response.
Why hadn’t he told Berkley about FLEX before now? Why hadn’t he explained to her what was happening with Anna after the incident at the Warriors Winter Gala?
Why am I so stupid?
“Berk,” he said, moving slowly toward her, hands raised. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Berkley leaped from the bed, still naked from their earlier joining. Brent’s mouth went dry at the sight of all of that skin begging him to run his hands and mouth across it.
He shook his head.Focus, Jean.
He met her eyes, wincing at the hurt he found in them.
“Really?” she said, her voice venomous. “Because it looks like you’ve been fucking around with this Anna chick behind my back! Why else would you have these half naked photos and suggestive texts saved? Not to mention all the women in your Instagram direct messages asking for a piece of you.”
That stopped Brent. “Why were you going through my Instagram?”
“That is so not the point right now, Brent.”
“I beg to differ. Why were you going through my messages? Do you not trust me?”
“Of course I trust you,” she scoffed. “I was just…curious.”
“Curious about what exactly?”
“Whether or not you were cheating on me! Which, based on these pictures of Anna I just saw, it looks like you are!”
He took another step toward her, and she backed away. He froze, his blood pressure rising over this invasion of his privacy. She clearlydidn’ttrust him if she’d felt inclined to search through his phone, but now was not the time to get into that. He had to tell her about Anna, and fast.
“Berk, please let me explain.”
She crossed her arms over her bare breasts and began tapping her foot, waiting.
“Have you heard of FLEX?” he asked her.
Berkley’s foot stilled and her brows drew together. “The activewear company you modeled for last year? Is that where you met Anna?”
“Yes,” Brent said. “And no. I’m not just a model for FLEX. I own it.”
“You own it,” Berkley said slowly. “You own FLEX?”
Brent nodded.
