The Act by Stella Gray

Author:Stella Gray [Gray, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stella Gray

Ford

Chapter 14

What the hell had happened at the party?

As I drove us home, tense and silent, all I could do was replay the events of the night in my head, over and over again, trying to figure out when—and how—everything had turned to such shit.

Emzee and I had walked into the gallery, which I knew for a fact she’d been excited to check out, and the first person we ran into had been my colleague Xavier from the Malone Real Estate offices across town. After chatting for a minute, I’d turned to formally introduce my wife, only to find that she’d disappeared. Which was a little awkward for me, sure, but I figured she’d just been so excited about the photography on display that she had slipped away to check it out.

I’d never had a problem flying solo at schmooze-fests such as these, so I’d taken off on my own to begin my rounds with the guests—assuming Emzee would catch up with me once she’d soaked in some of the art.

Which had reminded me, I really owed her a proper date of some kind. Newlyweds went on dates, didn’t they? Someplace cool but cultured, where Em could scratch that artistic itch of hers, get fired up about light and shadow and all that. I knew what she liked.

Soon enough, I was in the thick of it all. In my element. At some point, I guess I got so caught up in the socializing that I lost track of time, because suddenly I checked my Breitling and it was an hour later and Emzee was still conspicuously MIA. To the point where I was getting annoyed at having to make excuses for her absence to everyone who inquired about my new wife. Not to mention all the roasting I endured, the jokes about how she must be sick of being married to me already. Ha fucking ha.

And then I’d heard Emzee’s laugh. That infectious, irrepressible laugh of hers, ringing out clear across the room. It froze me in my tracks, and I spun toward the sound with a smile already on my face—only to be met with the infuriating sight of my wayward wife, mid-flirt. Huddled in a corner mere inches away from some mouth-breathing New Yorker.

Fucking Andrew Apellido. Who did this guy he think he was?

It was obvious what had been on his mind while he’d been cozying up to Emzee. Even from across the room, his body language was unmistakable. He wanted her. And it had nothing to do with her photography, no matter what Emzee had tried to tell me. That asshole had been standing there undressing my wife with his eyes, getting off on presenting himself as someone who could actually help her career. I knew the type all too well.

Not that I could blame him for trying. Even in a plain black dress and heels, Emzee was a total fucking knockout. Her tits looked distractingly plump in that tight dress, and the heels she wore made me want to wrap her legs around my neck.

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