Beautiful by Christina Lauren Read Online (FREE)
Here Beautiful (Beautiful Bastard, #5) by Christina Lauren Read Online for free
I’ve tried not to be too bitter about the close friendship between clarity and hindsight.
Such as, only once you’re sitting for your final exams do you register that you might have studied a bit more.
Or perhaps, staring down the barrel of a gun held in your face, you think, Gosh, I really was quite a wanker.
Or maybe you’ve just happened upon the white, thrusting bum of your idiot boyfriend as he shags another woman in your bed, and you muse with a touch of sarcasm, Ah, so that’s why he never fixed the squeaky stair. It was the Pippa alarm.
I threw my purse at him mid-thrust, hitting him squarely in the back. It sounded like a hundred tubes of lipstick hitting a brick wall.
For a cheating, lying, dickhead forty-year-old man, Mark really was quite fit.
“You asshole,” I hissed as he attempted—rather gracelessly—to climb off her. The sheets were stripped from the bed—add lazy to his list of attributes, obviously he didn’t want to have to carry the bedding to the laundrette on the corner before I got home—and his cock bounced against his stomach.
He covered it with his hand. “Pippa!”
To her credit, the woman hid her face behind her hands in mortification. “Mark,” she choked out, “you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”
“Funny,” I answered for him. “He didn’t tell me he had two of them.”
Mark let out a few abbreviated sounds of terror.
“Go on, then,” I said to him, lifting my chin. “Get your things. Get out.”
“Pippa,” he managed. “I didn’t know—”
“That I’d be coming by at lunchtime?” I asked. “Yeah, I figured that out, love.”
The woman stood, scrambling in humiliation for her clothes. I suppose the decent thing to do would have been to turn away and let them dress in their shameful silence. But actually, if I was being fair, the decent thing to do would not be to claim she didn’t know that Mark had a girlfriend when everything in the bloody bedroom was a delicate turquoise hue and the bedside lamps had lace-covered shades.
Did she think she was visiting his mum’s flat? Give me a fucking break.
Mark pulled on his pants, coming at me with his hands up as if approaching a lion.
I laughed. Right then, I was much more dangerous than a lion.
“Pippa, dearest, I’m so sorry.” He let the words sit in the space between us, as if they might actually be enough to diffuse my anger.
An entire speech filled my head in an instant, fully formed and articulate. It was about how I worked fifteen-hour days to support his start-up, it was about how he lived and worked in my flat but hadn’t washed a dish in four months, it was about how he seemed to be putting a lot more focus into giving this woman a bit of fun than he’d put into making me happy in the past six months. But I didn’t think he deserved even that much of my energy, glorious as the speech would have been.