I found the ladies’ room mercifully abandoned. I looked at myself in the mirror. Despite being an epic emotional wreck, I looked okay. Makeup hid the dark circles under my eyes, at least. I was no runway model, but I’d been good enough for Blake. Once upon a time, I had been the one he wanted. I scolded myself for caring. I could get through this, somehow. I’d been through worse, right?
Before I could answer myself, the door swung open and I caught Sophia’s reflection walking toward me. Her lithe runway-ready body sauntered up to the vanity counter where I was trying to pull myself together.
“Everything okay? You seem upset, Erica.”
Her voice was the usual sultry laced with bitch that I’d remembered from our first meeting in New York.
I turned to face her. “What do you want?”
She leaned back against the wall casually, crossing her arms in front of her. “I thought we could catch up. I was sorry to hear things didn’t work out with you and Blake.”
My lips pulled into a tight line. I wouldn’t take her bait. “I bet.”
“Wasn’t a good fit, I guess.”
“How would you know?”
“I’m a friend, Erica. He talks to me. I’m sure it was all pretty overwhelming for you, being with him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The sex, of course. Let’s not pretend we don’t know that he likes it rough.” She gave me a full smile and leaned her hip on the counter, cocking her head as if she were sizing me up. “You never struck me as the kind of girl who could get whipped.”
I struggled for a breath, unable to hide my reaction. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Sophia.”
She laughed. The sound stung, as if she’d slapped me in the face.
“Oh, I think I know plenty.”
I fisted my hands by my sides. What I wouldn’t do to smack that look off her face. And Blake. A sickness spread through me that he’d told her personal things about us. Jealousy and betrayal was a lethal cocktail of emotions, and I’d had about all I could take.