Chapter 508
When Andrew was with Aubree, his mind was completely about sex.
“Jaired’s coming back tomorrow, and I’m taking Tessa to his welcome–back party. No one will be home tomorrow. Oh, and the clothes I left on the couch are dirty. Remember to toss them in the washing machine for me, will you? I won’t be coming home tonight. Got to help Tessa pack. She probably needs to bring some meds, too.” He rattled off his to–do list while fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.
Aubree had just finished dressing and was already opening the car door.
Andrew’s brow furrowed with concern. “Aubree, did you catch all that?”
Without a word, she stepped out of the car. He reached out and pulled her back, only to be met with a sharp slap across the face, leaving him stunned. Tasting blood on his lip, Andrew spat, “What the hell, Aubree? You’ve been on edge for days, and now this? Do you expect me to grovel at your feet forever? Can’t we just call it quits while we’re ahead?”
Aubree’s body trembled. She wanted to retort but instead just tightened her coat around her and walked into the lobby.
Left alone in the car, Andrew was fuming and clueless about her sudden outburst. “Damn it, that hurt,” he muttered, touching his cheek before consoling himself with the thought that at least he got what he wanted.
Feeling angry and frustrated, Andrew floored the gas pedal, speeding away from the scene.
Clutching her coat, Aubree had barely reached the elevator when she heard a group of men. chuckling nearby.
“There she is, the talk of the town.”
“Desperate much? In the car right outside? Looks like she’s selling more than just her time.”
“Hey, sweetheart, how much for a night? You’re easy on the eyes, but is your price steep?”
Aubree ignored them, and her fingers trembled as she frantically pressed the elevator button, but the men were already closing in, eyeing her up and down. Her low–cut dress didn’t help. revealing more than she intended.
The men’s excitement grew with the sight.
“Quite the professional, huh? Name your price. We’ll take you for the night and pay triple.”
“You just got done in a car, so you won’t mind us, will you?”
“C’mon, we’re all customers here, so drop the act.”
They had been watching and had seen the car rocking. The building’s chat group was already ablaze with gossip. The older residents were appalled by such openness, branding her with derogatory names. This was not a high–end neighborhood and conservative views prevailed,
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Chapter 508
so one could imagine the current state of the chat group.
When one of the men reached out to grab Aubree, she swatted his hand away with a forceful “Back off!”
That provoked them further. One grabbed her hair and slammed her against the wall. “Stop playing hard to get! You were all over that guy in the car, and now you’re acting all innocent with us?!”
Aubree clung to her coat as the men shoved and berated her until the elevator arrived. She burst through them, racing to her apartment. The men laughed, following her, kicking at her door, and cursing before finally departing.
Collapsing on the sofa, Aubree felt a stinging in her eyes. Her phone rang, and she quickly sat up at the sight of the flashing name. “Bri?”
Brielle was still knitting a scarf. Realizing she hadn’t responded to Aubree’s text, she decided to call. When she heard Aubree’s hoarse voice, Brielle frowned. “Are you sick?”
Aubree shook, not from illness but from shame and fear. Andrew always trampled on her dignity with such indifference. “Just a bit of a cold, nothing serious. Anyway, tell me about you and Max. Are you two really together now?”
Brielle smiled softly. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend now.”
“And Michael? He didn’t react at all?”
Brielle’s smile faded slightly. If Michael had reached out right after it happened, either to her or Max, she wouldn’t feel so anxious. But since last night, there had been no calls to Max or her, as if nothing had happened.
That was the most terrifying part–no one knew what he was thinking. He was like a shallowly buried landmine; you never knew when it might explode, leaving everyone on edge.
