Watching You by Leslie A. Kelly

Author:Leslie A. Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-03-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

As Maisy Cullinan watched tonight’s most talked-about couple mingle in the crowded ballroom, nausea turned her stomach into a volcano. While they moved around the room, her stare followed, at least until rage blurred her vision. She could almost feel herself ripping out fistfuls of red hair by the roots, scratching those cheeks, tearing off the slutty dress.

She couldn’t believe Reece had brought the tramp here. This was supposed to be their special night. Only the who’s who of Hollywood should have been allowed—movie stars and rich philanthropists, like her. Maisy had the right to be here, bought and paid for. Maybe she hadn’t grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth, but her lottery winnings could be spent just as well as movie money. So she deserved to be among these people. She fit in. The slut in the red dress did not.

“She looks like she belongs in Penthouse, not at a charity dinner.”

“What did you say, darling?”

Maisy flinched, knowing the blonde seated beside her had heard. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name—Candace? Carla?—but knew her husband produced crappy films.

“Oh, nothing,” she said with a bored smile, one she’d seen on other woman and practiced daily in front of the mirror. Hers was probably fine, considering everybody’s looked as fake as their tits and their tans. “I was talking to myself. Don’t you ever talk to yourself?”

“No, I don’t,” the producer’s wife said with a smirk, so condescending. As if Maisy hadn’t paid every bit as much for her plate of food as this spoiled bitch. “But if you were talking about the woman with Reece Winchester, I hear she’s his new, uh, assistant.”

“Assistant, my ass. Abigail’s his administrative assistant,” Maisy snapped. She knew all about Reece’s employees, just as she knew all about his life.

“Abigail?”

Realizing she’d sounded more interested than she should, she said, “I, uh, met her once, when I stopped by Reece’s office.” He had been out of town, on location. But she’d needed to be near him, at least to smell his unique scent, be close to the desk where he worked.

“I see,” the woman said, so pleasant, so phony.

It was so hard to know what to say, and who to say it to. People here weren’t like the ones in Scranton. They were better at hiding what they meant, disguising their meanness behind polite talk. Not that there weren’t mean people in Pennsylvania. Everybody had been mean to her back in the day. Crazy Maisy, they’d called her. She’d slaved at the grocery store six days a week, ringing up their melons and their cucumbers, but she wasn’t even worth saying hello to.

Then she’d won a record-breaking lottery jackpot. She’d suddenly had more friends than Miss Congeniality in a beauty pageant. But she hadn’t given a penny to any of them, and had traded her small life in Pennsylvania for a big one in Los Angeles.

Her windfall had obviously been fated. She’d always known she would end up with Reece, ever since he’d smiled at her from a giant screen.

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