Belle heard the dinging sound of an elevator and frowned, curling her arms back around her head to block out the noise. Dreaming, I must be dreaming. A voice called her name, and she scrunched even tighter to hide.

“Are you alive? If you’re dead, Greyson’s going to kill me,” Tim muttered. “Belle, wake up!”

She shot up, nearly head-butting him in the face, and looked around. “What? What time is it?” she snapped and rubbed at her eyes. When she saw sunlight pouring in the office windows, she shot up from her chair. “Shit! Oh no… no, this isn’t happening!”

“Slow down,” Tim said, but she scrambled past him and into Greyson’s office. She’d been using his computer—a hell of a lot better than hers—to finish her final project last night. “Belle, will you calm down and talk to me.”

She ignored him, trying to recall last night. She’d been working at the desk when the phone rang; she argued with marketing at their partner company for two hours, and then went back to work, right? But when she pulled up her e-mail and the blackboard for her class to submit her mid-term, the floor fell out from under her and she sank hard to the floor.

“Jesus,” Tim yelped and rushed to pull her back to her feet. “What’s going on? Belle, your eyes are glazing over. Look at me.”

“I missed the deadline,” she muttered in disbelief. “I missed it… I never sent it in.”

The past two days had exhausted her beyond all reason. Between doing Greyson’s job for him, saving his company from tanking, and doing her mid-term, she must’ve thought she sent it in but never did.

“Too late. It’s too damn late. I’m screwed. I’m going to fail a class.”

“What are you talking about?”

She let Tim pull her to her feet and get her into the office chair before she told him quietly she forgot to send in her mid-term last night. The assignment was closed now, and she was screwed.

“How much was it worth?” he asked.

“Half,” she choked out. “Half my grade. There’s no coming back from that. None.”

Tim cursed and ran a hand through his hair, but Belle knew there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do. She’d helped save Greyson’s company when it nearly dove off a cliff while he was gone, and what did she have to show for it? A boyfriend who lied to her and a big, old, fat F glaring her in the face.

“Were you here all night?” Tim asked quietly. “I’m taking you home.”

“Greyson,” she muttered when he tugged her to her feet and walked her back to her desk. “Did he call you again?”

“Said they’re working out the kinks, he should be home sometime tomorrow,” he told her.

“I got it. I can drive myself,” she insisted, but his worried frown told her she must look worse than she felt. “Really, I’ll be alright. I'm not sure what I’m going to do about school, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

He walked her to the elevator without speaking, and the second the doors closed on his face, Belle sank to the floor, holding her face as she cried. Everything she’d worked for was gone in one night. One stupid mistake, and her college effort was worthless. She’d have to retake the class. It would put her behind, and paying again for the same class wasn’t something she looked forward to. All her income from this job had gone to pay off other debts. Why hadn’t she put more of it away, just in case? The doors opened to the parking garage, and she pushed to her feet, wiping the tears from her eyes quickly as anger replaced her anxiety.

Once in the Mustang, she called Carrie. “Hey, I’m picking you up. We need girl time.”

“You sound terrible. What happened?” her friend asked.

“I think I just screwed everything up. Greyson’s out of town. We’re going to have the place to ourselves, including his massive wine collection,” Belle said, her body warming as her anger grew with each breath she took. “It’s all his damn fault anyway.”

Carrie paused for a beat before she asked, “You sure you want to be drinking at his place?”

“Hell yes, I do. I’ll be there in twenty,” she said and hung up, revved the engine, and peeled out of the garage.

She had no idea how to fix her missed mid-term, and she couldn’t ask the professor to extend her deadline. If Greyson hadn’t run off to wherever he went, the warehouse or not… It was his fault. She stepped in to save his ass and where was he? Out gallivanting around in California, calling Tim with updates instead of her. She’d texted him all day yesterday, called him a few times too, but he never answered. The phone call he lied about reared its ugly head again, and she nibbled at her bottom lip. Was she that boring to him? Was he cheating on her right now?

Don’t be an idiot. You know he loves you, she thought, but still, the doubts remained and grew until they were all that filled her mind when she picked up Carrie from campus.

“You look pissed,” Carrie commented as she slid into the Mustang.

“Long story, need wine,” Belle replied sharply and floored it out of the parking lot, headed for Greyson’s ranch. “I hope you’re ready for some ranting because counting to ten just isn’t cutting it today.”

Two hours later, Carrie giggled as she opened another bottle of wine and Belle lay on her back on the couch, staring at the wooden ceiling beams, wondering what Greyson was doing.

“You know, if you decide to leave your fortress of solitude, I’m getting an apartment soon,” Carrie said, carrying over the red wine bottle and setting it on the coffee table. “We could live together again, and I promise, this time, if I bring boys around, you won’t walk in on us doing the dirty.”

Belle cringed and threw a pillow at Carrie. It whacked her in the face, and Belle burst out laughing. “You know, I don’t think he’s with someone else, but I don’t know,” she said, her words slurring. “Sometimes, I don’t really know who he is.”

Carrie set her glass down and glanced around. “Uh, Belle, you’re in his house—alone.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So why the hell aren’t you going through his stuff?! Come on, get up,” Carrie yelled, and with her wine glass in hand, tore off down the hall.

Belle grunted as she rolled off the couch, fell to the floor with a giggle, then scrambled up and chased after Carrie. “Wait, what are you doing? Carrie!”

“In here,” she called from Greyson’s bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Belle hissed as if any second Greyson would return home to find them snooping. “Get out of his closet!”

“Fine,” her friend muttered, “nothing in there anyway. Check under the bed. I’ll get the dresser.” She laughed as she hurried to the dresser and pulled open drawer after drawer. For a long second, Belle watched, but curiosity got the better of her and she fell to the floor, peering under the bed. “Anything?” Carrie asked.

“Nothing but dust,” she grumbled and rolled over so she stared up at the ceiling.

“Hmm, maybe he doesn’t have anything—wait a second, what’s this?” Carrie asked excitedly. Belle sat up quickly to see Carrie pulling out a small black photo box from the bottom drawer. “Now this is a must-see.”

“Wait,” Belle said, but too late. Carrie dumped the box out on the bed, and there was nothing to do but look through the pictures. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Belle knew they should stop, but Carrie sifted through the pictures. A smiling couple caught her eye as they stared at whomever took the picture.

Belle reached out slowly and picked up the picture. The woman was beautiful, with blonde hair, bright green eyes, cleavage she could drown in, and a tiny waist. She was tall and lean, and even though it was a picture, Belle sensed the desire in Greyson’s face for the woman in his arm. It had to be his ex, but Belle hadn’t realized how pretty she was, how unimaginably gorgeous, and probably smart, too. She had impeccable taste, judging by the dress and jewelry she wore, and money. Lots of it.

“Who’s that?” Carrie asked, leaning over her shoulder.

“Ex-girlfriend, I think,” Belle mumbled.

“She’s pretty… And you look like you want to kill her. Hand it over before you rip it in half.”

“Why not?” she said, gripping the picture tighter.

“Because that might not be the ex-girlfriend.” Belle looked to where she pointed, and her chest tightened as every limb in her body went rigid. “How many girlfriends did he say he had before you?”

She shook her head. He’d only ever mentioned one. She knew he’d been a playboy back in the day and dated a ton of other women, but she had no idea it was this many or that they were so much prettier than she was. She went through the pictures, each one with Greyson’s smiling face as he kissed a woman, held her ass, as he drew her in close and smiled widely. She found another stack, and the second she flipped over the first one, the rest scattered to the floor. She jumped back, rubbing her hands on her thighs.

Carrie asked her what was wrong until she picked up the pics and her eyes widened. “Well then, that’s uh, wow.”

“Naked pictures,” Belle muttered, trying to get the image out of her mind. “Who the hell keeps naked pictures of their ex-girlfriends?”

“Maybe he forgot about them,” Carrie suggested, flipping through them. “It’s possible. This box was in the bottom drawer, covered in dust. I’m sure that’s it. He’s been so busy keeping up with you.”

“Right, because your first thought when you break up with someone is to keep the naked pictures you took of her,” Belle said as she pointed around the room. “That’s this room, this bedroom. He took those so that has to be the ex-girlfriend.”

“Didn’t his mom tell you she never lived with him?”

Belle frowned. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Carrie tossed the pictures down. “It means he wants you to be with him—all the time, not just for sex and naked pictures.”

Knowing it sounded stupid, she couldn’t stop herself from muttering, “He’s never tried to take naked pictures of me.”

Her friend stared at her for a solid minute before she laughed sharply. “You don’t want him to do that.”

“How do you know?” she pouted.

“Because I know you, you idiot. Forget these pics. Let’s order some pizza,” she said, and after they tossed the pics back in the box and tucked it away in the dresser, Carrie led the way back to the living room. She picked up her cell and called the local pizza joint to order their usual.

Belle, meanwhile, paced the living room, trying to forget how perfect that naked woman looked in the four-poster bed—the four-poster bed she’d spent so many nights in, lost in Greyson’s arms, thinking that maybe this would work out in some weird way. That they had a chance despite their stubbornness and raging tempers. She usually wasn’t a jealous person, but knowing Greyson saw all those women naked, had sex with them, maybe even loved a few, tore at her heart, and she wondered if she was going to lose one of the only other people she cared about.

“Right, pizza is ordered and you need more wine,” Carrie announced, ducking into the kitchen.

Belle followed and was about to suggest they try something harder when the home phone rang. “Let the machine get it. If it’s Tim, he’ll call my cell.”

It rang two more times before a loud beep echoed out of the office, but what followed next caused Belle’s blood to boil and she shattered the wine glass in her hand.

“Hey Greyson, it’s Lisa, but you probably knew that from my voice. We’ve missed you, but Aiden just called and said you were back on the market! Hope you’re not spending all your time with her. Call me!”

Belle stared straight ahead, the glass on the floor at her feet as Carrie grabbed a towel and told her not to move until she cleaned it up. “That bastard,” she growled, all idea of controlling her temper gone. “I knew it! I knew it after he lied about that phone call!”

Carrie glanced up at her from the floor and helped her maneuver away from the glass. “Go wash off your hand, carefully, and what phone call?”

“The other week, he got this phone call. He didn’t want me to hear it, and afterwards, he said it was his mom.”

“And that’s a bad thing because?” she asked as she dumped the glass in the trashcan.

Belle stood at the sink, holding her hand under the water, watching it wash over her palm. “I was talking to his mom at the time of the call,” she said quietly. “He lied, right to my face, and now this last-minute trip that Tim’s lying about for him, and the pictures and the call… I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Carrie said. “You just have to do it calmly, do you hear me? Talk to him calmly about all of this. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for everything.”

The phone rang again, and when the beep went off in the office, another cheery voice came on the machine. Belle yelled as Carrie rushed to close the door, blocking her from yanking the machine and the phone from the wall. It was definitely time for something stronger, and the second Greyson stepped through that door, he better be ready to face a damn hurricane. Belle didn’t let herself open up to anyone, ever, and now, she realized she might’ve just handed over her heart to some cheating arrogant bastard.