Dios mio. I was the scandal of the country club. A broken engagement and whisperings from the biggest gossips to ever see a golf course that I’d cheated on Marc would do that.

I sat at the club’s bar sipping my lemon drop martini. The glares burned into my back from goody-two-shoes and her gossipy friend goody-two-thousand-dollar-shoes. I distinctly heard the words “fat,” and “whore” coming from their tête–à–tête. Their insults only served to make my spine stronger and straighter.

It was the same playground antics. Not like I hadn’t suffered the exact insults since my chubby-cheeked childhood.

These were my people when I was the good little rich girl. When Marc had been cheating on me and I was happily miserable. Now that the truth was revealed, my so-called friends were showing their inner donkey-butts.

I needed new friends.

I needed a new life.

I wouldn’t even be here if my father hadn’t insisted I show myself and deny the accusations. He actually wanted me to make up with Marc.

His golden boy.

What my father would really love is to tell me he was going to cut me off, like all his other cronies threatened to their children.

He hated that I had more money than he did.

Ha.

The only leverage he had against me now was to attack from within the ranks of the social elite I mistakenly thought would be on my side.

A week ago I would have died, then come back and zombie slapped anyone who even suggested I would be happy sans fiancé and my country club friends. Times had changed. I changed.

Today I wore a skirt that hugged my thighs and ample ass, a shirt cut low enough that more than my cleavage showed and an attitude that said “fuck you all, I’m having fun.”

I did my time. Saved face for dear old dad. Now I was out of here.

I took one last swallow and slid my empty glass across the bar. Right when I stood up all the big screen TVs in the club lounge which were set to Sunday golfing, flickered and a dark grainy image appeared.

Everyone, including me, squinted up at the screens trying to make out the blobby figures. Were we being taken over by aliens? World War three?

The person behind the camera moved in and the scene came into focus.

Holy virgin Mary of Guadalupe.

It was Marc...and Mindy. Fucking their brains out.

“Yeah, that’s right Min. You’re my little whore aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll be whatever you want if you just fuck me harder.”

The porno version of Marc grabbed Mindy’s hair and pulled her head back as he grunted like a pig-baboon rutting.

If the tape continued, I’d bet all my millions that you see me on the screen in about two more minutes walking into that bathroom.

I knew because this recording was from the night of my engagement party right here in this very club. I recognized Mindy’s dress pushed up over her back as Marc plowed her ass. I’d picked out the tie swinging around his neck.

I shrugged and took another sip of the sweet liquor. Enough of it would cover the bitter bite of betrayal. A girl needed to see that kind of shit going down with her own eyes. The sight of Marc plowing Mindy’s bunghole would be burned into my brain forever.

That way I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

No need watching what I already knew about. I glanced around the room enjoying the reactions and revulsion on the prim and proper faces of the members. Those I expected. None had the telltale smugness of the one who’d pulled this prank.

Who’d made the recording and put it up for everyone to see?

I had a good idea.

I’d be mad at Gray for not telling me he knew about this betrayal, but if he had, I would have missed the shunning Marc and Mindy were also getting. That made every dirty look, every whispered insult, and all the fiery arrows poking my psyche from the inside out totally worth it.

Gray was nowhere to be found, but his voice came up on the video. “Too bad you’re such a dumbass, Sparky. Because you could have had this.”

The screen morphed from sweaty gross Marc to...me.

Except I wasn’t gross at all. I was fucking gorgeous. Was that even me? My eyes were closed, head thrown back, and pure ecstasy lit up my face.

He’d done an excellent job of editing the two videos together. Marc was a pig. I was the ultimate sex-goddess.

Still. I was gonna kill Gray.

This was way beyond the sexy photos I’d sent to Marc yesterday. That revenge has felt good. This?

They say revenge is best served cold. I was hot all over.

I swiveled the stool around so I could see every lying sack of shit in the place. Including dear old dad.

The plethora of dirty looks from the club members had me feeling distinctly unwelcome.

There was a great big part of my that wanted to cringe and skulk away in shame.

Yeah. I’d done something the rest of them only ever fantasized about. It was real and raw and rebellious.

Everyone around me was fake and fake and fake.

Fuck them all. I didn’t want to be there anyway.

That’s why Gray tacked my film debut onto the end of Marc’s trashy sex tape. To show me this.

It wasn’t just Marc, or Mindy, or my father who were pretended to love me. There wasn’t a person in this room with a tiny modicum of depth or caring for anyone besides themselves.

How had I been a part of this world for so long?

I hated it.

I hated them.

I hated me when I was with them, being one of them.

I raised the fresh drink someone else had ordered that sat on the bar, toasted the onlookers and sucked down the tasty beverage. A wink to the cute bartender and I threw my glass into the two-hundred-year-old fireplace.

There you go, something else for everyone to gawk at. I walked away from the false ideals of a real woman in my Louboutin stripper-heels I’d never had the guts to wear before, but that were perfect for this particular occasion.

I had my own life to live and it certainly wasn’t with anyone in this outdated den of iniquity.

The twenty-five thousand-dollar French doors made a perfect backdrop for my liberation. I threw them open, took my hair out of tight up-do, shook it, and flipped the members staring at my round plump ass, the finger.

I had fallen from the ivory tower like a tainted angel.

Every inch of that fall developed armor I’d been missing. I loved almost every second of it. The one-night stand and the scandal.

I loved Gray for opening my eyes to what I was becoming.

The part I was still struggling with was my non-relationship status with him. We were friends, he worked for me, he’d seen me naked doing dirty-fun things with two other men, and yet he wouldn’t even touch me.

He’d touched himself, alright. Plus he’d made that video. Which meant he’d watched it again. Probably a whole bunch of times.

He was hot and then cold, then colder, then hawt.

Damn it. I was going to figure him out. Right after I read him the riot act for putting me on those TVs without warning me.

“Angie, wait.” Marc ran out after me. I recognized Marc’s tone. It was the same one he used when he wanted money.

Mindy slunk in the shadows under the portico. I wanted to feel sorry for her. She could do so much better. But I guess every woman had to learn that lesson for herself.

I didn’t wait.

“Ang, what the fuck were you thinking?” He grabbed my arm to stop me.

I pulled it back and kept walking. Marc wasn’t used to me doing anything more than lying on my back and taking his limp-dicked abuse. I knew better... now.

His good looks and charm weren’t going to work on me now. I’d been bowled over by his all-American quarterback good looks with his blond hair, blue eyes, and perfectly tailored suits. The poster boy for how to look rich.

“When? Just now when I showed your sex tape to the club members, or when I was having an amazing threesome with those hot, sexy boy-toys?”

Sure, I’d claim responsibility for disgracing him. It was more than he’d been willing to do.

“What the hell has gotten into you? Are you on drugs?”

“No, Marc. I don’t need any mind-altering substances to know you’re a pinche pendejo.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “You know I don’t understand Spanish.”

Hay, Dios mio, had he always been such a whiny baby? “Oh, I’m sorry.” I put on my best helpful mommy voice. “Would you like me to translate? I called you a fucking dickhead.”

“Jesus, Ang. Does your father know you’ve become such a trashy whore?”

Oh. There it was. There was the bastard.

“I’m not the one who sells myself for access to other people’s money.” I couldn’t help the bite to my voice. Deep breath. No good came from engaging with Marc’s morals.

He’d come into my life when all my friends were getting married and I was on the sidelines, not even the bridesmaid, never the bride. Compliments and flowers and wining and dining were all it had taken to sweep me off my feet and into his manipulative lair. I hated that old life.

Time to get a new one. One with lots of sex, and less lies. I slid on my sunglasses and strutted down the walk, leaving Marc gaping like the cold fish he was and fumbling over feeble come backs.

Seeing myself in that video, with two men wrapped around me, giving me pleasure, taking it in return, and knowing that Gray was watching me had given me an idea.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my father’s secretary. She had the contact I needed to put my idea into motion.

If Gray thought he could keep his cool when I was with two men, let’s see what more would do.

“Hello Judy. Yes, this is Angelina. Do you have the number for Gloria Forsyth?”

I waited while she hmm’d and haw’d, then made her excuse.

“Judy. You’re not dumb and neither am I. I know exactly what Gloria does and for whom. Don’t you worry your head about that.”

She finally agreed to message me the number. I added it to my contacts before I got to the car. I’d have to wait until I was alone to call her.

I had no doubt given enough monetary persuasion she could do exactly what I wanted.

Grayson had the engine running and waiting for my escape. No denying now that he’d planned that viewing party.

He held my door open, looking very much the part of the man-servant. I knew better. Underneath that uniform was my only real friend and as soon as I could finagle it, my lover. My dirty, nasty, dominant, extremely generous, lover.