The Pool Boy - Nikki Sloane Page 0,87

Stella’s tour was over. Our relationship had no bearing on him landing the show’s opening spot, but this would keep any rumors of impropriety from circulating.

Charlotte’s embarrassment was harmless. She worried she’d come off as a silly girl with a crush, but if she was, I couldn’t fault her for it. I felt that way around him too.

“What’s the notification?” I asked.

Was it more pictures from last night? He’d been in one Stella had posted to Instagram. But Charlotte’s eyes widened as she stared at the screen, forcing me to step behind her and read over her shoulder.

“I guess that answers the question,” she said flatly, “on whether or not he has a girlfriend.”

My mouth went dry and my body cold as I processed what I was seeing. First, the red logo at the top of the screen caused dread. Nothing good for my clients had ever been posted on TMZ. Second, the headline made my stomach turn.

“Stella Auditions Her New Man!”

I didn’t read the article because there was no point. The photo did all the storytelling.

The picture was grainy and angled from above, probably taken by a drone and then zoomed in. It was the only way to get pictures of her property because the community was gated, and her fence was an impressively high wall, surrounding her estate on all sides. I’d been to her house once with Ardy, and we’d marveled at how far she’d come from the two-bedroom apartment she used to share with her parents and sister.

The image had been captured while Troy was mid-step in the circle drive, walking toward the open door of an SUV. It was likely Stella’s personal car, preparing to take him home after their evening was over.

I didn’t know the circumstances that led to the picture, but several facts were undeniable. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in Stella’s IG post from earlier in the night.

He’d gone over to her house afterward.

And the sun was up when the picture had been taken, meaning he’d spent the night.

It felt like I was back in that dark hallway, staring at Clark’s office door, knowing everything was about to come apart and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I straightened so abruptly, it caused alarm in Charlotte. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Although the shake in my voice said otherwise. I put one foot in front of the other and forced myself to walk to my office.

It was fine, I told myself. I’d call him and there’d be a perfectly reasonable explanation. I tried not to think about how gorgeous Stella was, or how successful, or that she could catapult his career and make his dreams come true.

All I could think about was how young she was. Practically his age. She was America’s sweetheart, and maybe the only girl on this planet his mother would approve of.

My hands shook as I held my phone and tapped his contact name.

It rang.

And rang.

Somewhere ‘Reckless’ was playing because that was the ringtone he’d chosen for me. The fourth ring was interrupted by a click, and then his sleepy voice came through. “Hey.”

“Hey!” I overcompensated, so it came out extra bright. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but that’s okay. What’s up?”

My pulse throbbed in the side of my neck. “How was your night?”

“It was great.” He sounded marginally more alert. “She gave me all these tips and told me the stuff she wished she’d known starting out. I could have listened to her talk all night.”

I’d told him to be a sponge. To do way more listening than talking, because people just starting out were weirdly overconfident and often came off as know-it-alls.

“All night?” I tried to sound nonchalant. “I heard y’all kept the place open late.” I both did and didn’t want to know the answer, so my voice was tight. “What time did you get home?

There was a fraction of a pause, but it was a fucking dagger to my heart. That microsecond was the time it took him to craft his lie.

He sounded distant. “A little after three.” He tacked it on as if it were the perfect explanation. “We were doing shots.”

“Three,” I repeated.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I asked what time you got home,” I maintained a cool veneer, “not what time you left the bar with her, Troy.”

“What?” There was rustling on the other end. Had he bolted upright in bed? It sounded like the covers were shifting around him. “What are you talking about?”

“You spent the night at Stella’s place.” I’d