Hollywood Prince (Hollywood Royalty #3) - Natasha Madison Page 0,81

from me just like all the others. I will burn this relationship down before I’ll be hurt again.

I hear the door slam closed, and I have to stop myself from running after her. I look over at the blonde in my bed. “Get the fuck out,” I tell her, walking back to the bathroom.

“Oh, come on,” she says, getting on her knees, her big tits swaying. “You’re paying me, might as well use me. I was naked all night long, and you haven’t even touched me.” She rolls her nipples, and I turn and walk out.

“When I get back, if you’re not gone, I’m going to put you out on your ass,” I tell her. “I paid you for the night, you did what I wanted you to do, now get out.” I close the door of the bathroom and go to the toilet, and I sit down. My legs trembling, I close my eyes, and the only thing I can see is the pain in her eyes when I stepped into the room. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I don’t wipe it away. I let it fall on the towel that I have wrapped around my waist. Another tear falls down, rolling faster than the last one. I pick up my hand to touch my cheek, but it shakes so much I have to put it back down.

She shouldn’t be driving in that state. What if she needs me? I get up, my legs shaking again, and I hold the counter, grabbing the clothes I just took off when she walked in the house. I open the door and see that the blonde is gone, and the sheet she covered herself with all night lays on the floor. I walk down the stairs, grabbing my keys. I have to make sure she made it home okay. Walking to the garage, I get in my car and pull away from my house. The house that I shared with her and no one else. The house that was only mine is now ours. The road’s almost deserted when I see her car on the side of the road, and my heart starts to beat even faster. I pull up behind her and get out of the car, almost running to her car. I see that she was sick beside her car, and the tears come now. I don’t even bother to notice looking in the car to see if she’s there, but it’s empty. She isn’t anywhere. I look around, yelling her name, wondering if she’s sick somewhere on the side of the road. Did someone stop and kidnap her? Where the hell is she? I run down the road, my eyes going everywhere while I yell her name so loudly and so much my throat is raw. I run my hands through my hair, finally pulling it out. The pain is dull compared to the pain in my stomach. I run back to my car, picking up my phone and calling her. It goes straight to voice mail, her voice makes my heart beat normal, lets me breathe again. I hang up when I hear the beep and go up and down again and again. Nothing, not a trace of her except her car. I wonder if she walked to get help. Did her car break down? I call her again, and it goes to voice mail. I sit in the car not moving, waiting for her to come back. I’ll be here when she comes back, but a tow truck shows up, and I get out of the car.

“Hey.” I walk up to him, and he looks at me while he connects his truck to her car. “Is the lady who drives this car okay?”

“No clue, man,” he says. “I was just told to pick it up.” I nod at him and turn to walk back to my car. She must be fine if she managed to get a tow truck to pick up her car. I get back home and walk into the door, and I swear I can smell her. She’s everywhere. I walk to the kitchen and start my coffee, ignoring the vanilla-flavored syrup I bought for her. I grab it and toss it in the garbage. I turn and walk to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

Outside, the weather mirrors how I feel. It’s dark and gloomy and looks like a storm is coming. I walk down the steps to