Free The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2) by A.C. Netzel Page A

what?”
    “I know what’s going through your head, Julia.”
    “I told you, I’m going to miss you.” I look away; unable to make eye contact.
    “That’s not what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about what Marcello told you about the photographer.”
    I swallow hard and shrug a shoulder. The only information Ben knows about my Ex is that he was an asshole. I’m too embarrassed to admit to him that I was stupid and blind to all the cheating and lies.
    “My only interest in her is her photography. I don’t care what her reputation is. I don’t care if it’s true or not. It’s none of my business. It has nothing to do with you and me.”
    “I know. I’m being ridiculous. I don’t know why the rumors Marcello gabbed rattle me so much,” I lie. I know exactly why. I’ve been burned before—Burned to a crisp. And the fact is that this man-eater prefers taken men… I have to stop thinking and trust him.
    “ You are the sole owner of my heart, my soul… and my pretty dick.”
    I smile and manage a small chuckle.
    “There’s that beautiful smile.” He smiles back at me, his love shining from his eyes. “I love you, Julia.”
    “Oh Ben, I love you too. I don’t want anything to ruin this.”
    He pulls me in close to him, his arms wrapped around me, gently rocking me back and forth. “Nothing will,” he whispers softly in my ear, kissing my hair. “Nothing will.”
    ~o0o~
    *Just landed. Catching cab to the hotel. Call you when I’m settled in.*
    *Ok. Talk to you later.*
    It’s been well over an hour. He should be at the hotel by now. He didn’t have to wait at the baggage carousel at the airport. He only had carry-on luggage. The hotel is right by the airport and even if he went straight to the ballpark, it’s only a twenty-minute drive from there. Where the hell is he? I grab my cell and text him:
    *Is everything OK? Did you make it to the hotel?*
    After tapping my foot in the air for five minutes, trying to convince myself that he’s not lying dead on the side of a highway; I finally get a response.
    *Sorry got sidetracked. I’m here.*
    Typical man. He probably stopped for some fast food to bring up to his room. My cell pings with another text before I could answer.
    *Met Laura in the hotel lobby. We’re grabbing a quick bite before heading off to the ballpark.*
    Motherfucker. I was ready to buy the black dress for his funeral. I thought he was bleeding to death in the middle of a busy street with the Grim Reaper standing by his side. And the son-of-a-bitch is just “grabbing a bite” with that photographing floozy.
    And now she’s “Laura.”
    It’s Whora. Say it right. Refer to her by her proper name. I’m sure she earned it. Marcello knows his gossip. I text him back.
    *Ok. I won’t keep you.*
    *Call you later.*
    Three words? A lousy three-word text is all I get? Was he trying to get rid of me? He probably lost his grasp of the English language when Blondie bounced her perky Swedish tits in front of him. I know girls like her. They bat their eyelashes and pretend they’re clueless when they’re the smartest person in the room.
    I’m going to drive myself insane if I don’t stop overthinking. Just because Ben’s ridiculously handsome and has a dick he occasionally uses in lieu of his brain doesn’t mean he isn’t honorable. He is. It’s one of the things I love most about him.
    Mankind as a whole isn’t doomed; there are just a few defects.
    I peek at my laptop sitting on my nightstand, fighting the urge to do something I know I’m going to regret. Oh, screw it.
    I open it up, click on a search engine, and type in her name.
    Laura Whora Slutly
    I blink a few times, and my mouth falls open as I gawk at the images displayed. Well, that name sure pulled up a shitload of porn. The Laura Whora Slutly I’m staring at sure is bendy… and friendly… with several men and a couple of women—at the same time. I didn’t think a few of those positions were possible. This girl has