Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,94
as I returned to my old childhood bedroom and sat in my nightclothes on the familiar twin-sized bed.
As far as Chase's final comment, it could mean only one of two things. Either he was also thinking that our relationship might not last beyond the campaign, or he was referring to what I'd told him about moving for a new job, assuming I had to.
This wasn't what I wanted.
I dreaded the thought of moving away. But I also dreaded the thought of settling for a part-time service job instead of a job that actually used my degree.
These thoughts were heavy on my mind, even as I reached down and retrieved the book from the tote-bag.
But soon, thoughts of everything else faded into the background as I read what Angelique had to say about Chase.
It wasn't good.
Of course, I had never expected it to be good. Back in the beginning, Chase himself had warned me that it wasn't flattering. Still, as I read chapter after chapter, I found myself growing more and more concerned.
By the time I finished, I had no idea what to think.
The guy described in the book was not the guy I'd been spending so much time with. In fact, he was exactly the kind of guy I would surely avoid.
According to Angelique, Chase was a lying, cheating scumbag – sure, a sexy and generous scumbag, but a scumbag nonetheless.
With sleep now impossible, I returned to a chapter I'd found particularly troubling. It was the chapter describing what Chase had demanded for his most-recent birthday – a harem of warm and willing women to do his bidding.
A harem.
That's what Angelique had called it, except for all those times she'd called it an orgy. She didn't specify how many women were involved, but it sounded like a lot, at least half a dozen.
And that wasn't all.
According to the book, Chase had ended the relationship not too long afterward, telling Angelique that he was trading her in for a new model. It wasn't even a metaphor, because right after Angelique, he'd taken up with swimsuit model from the West Coast, followed by a fashion model from the East Coast a couple of weeks later.
Now, in my quiet bedroom, I considered what he was doing now – dating a farmer's daughter from the Midwest. My stomach clenched. And who would take my place when Chase moved on?
Would he go back to models? Or pick another type of girl entirely?
Either prospect made me sick to my stomach.
Lost in thought, I glanced at the nearby clock and was surprised to discover that it was nearly four o'clock in the morning, and my sister still wasn't home.
It was a real bummer, too, because at that moment, I would've given just about anything to talk to her.
But the way it looked, she was either spending the night at a friend's place, or more likely, working late at the downtown bar where she'd found part-time employment as a waitress.
I was still obsessing over Chase when I heard a car pulling into the driveway. I perked up. My sister – it had to be.
Just to be sure, I jumped out of bed and rushed to the nearest window, the one overlooking the front of the house.
But when I moved the curtains aside, it wasn't my own car I saw pulling into the driveway.
It was Chase's.
I was sure of it. I'd recognize the vehicle anywhere. It was the orange sportscar – the one he'd been driving the very first time he'd brought me home.
In the darkness, its color had faded to gray, but its sleek, exotic lines were unmistakable.
I frowned at the sight of it.
It was the middle of the night, and my parents were asleep. I should be sleeping, too. On top of that, Chase hadn't even called or texted to let me know he was coming.
I had no idea why he was here, but nothing good could come of it. Was he trying to cause tension between me and my parents?
Within two minutes, I was dressed and scrambling down the front porch. I stalked straight to the driver's side window and rapped on the glass as hard as I dared.
But when the window slid down, I stifled a gasp. Chase's lip was swollen, and his light T-shirt was stained with blood.
I blurted out, "Oh, my God. What happened to you?"
"Nothing."
"Well, something happened," I said. "Are you okay?"