My Actress Girlfriend - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading My Actress Girlfriend, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of My Actress Girlfriend.
Vincent Roscente's voice crackled through the phone, sharp and commanding. "Ethan? Get to the club. Now. We need to talk."
The cab ride felt endless. My mind kept circling back to Vincent and Sophia Laurent tangled together. What would her face look like when she saw me? Guilt? Defiance? Or worse—indifference?
But nothing could've prepared me for what waited at the club.
The VIP lounge was empty—no sign of Sophia. Maybe she'd bolted, knowing I'd uncover her betrayal.
Inside the private room, it was like stepping into some modern-day Roman orgy.
Dozens of wannabe starlets clung to every available surface—all plunging necklines, short skirts, and legs that went on forever. The air was thick with the cloying stench of cheap perfume and raw ambition.
Vincent held court beside Richard Winston, a nouveau riche investor with sausage fingers currently buried in some dancer's thigh. Their matching shark-like grins said it all—they were two of a kind.
This was the man Sophia had been with last night?
"Ethan! Meet Richard Winston," Vincent announced, waving his cigar like a scepter.
I forced a smile, choking out some hollow praise. Richard lapped it up, preening like a rooster as he downed the whiskey I handed him.
Then Vincent dropped the real reason I was here. "Our new web series just got the greenlight. Richard's money came through. We need an on-set screenwriter."
A career lifeline. I nodded, my stomach twisting.
A brunette draped herself over Vincent, her fingers toying with his collar. "Director Roscente, any chance I could audition?"
The room erupted—every girl suddenly clamoring for their "shot." Vincent and Richard ate it up.
"Everyone gets a chance," Vincent chuckled, his gaze lingering too long on the brunette. "But only the most talented will make the cut."
We all knew what that meant.
"Speaking of talent," Richard slurred, pulling out his phone, "last night's dancer was something else. Took a few souvenirs."
My blood turned to ice. Sophia?
The photos left nothing to the imagination—initial embraces escalating into full-blown bedroom acrobatics. The woman's face was hidden, but that emerald dress? Unmistakable.
These weren't just predators. They were collectors, documenting their conquests like trophies.
"Come on, Ethan!" Richard grinned, waving me over. "Join the fun."
I stood frozen, fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. The urge to smash Richard's smug face warred with cold, hard logic.
Then my phone buzzed.
Sophia's name flashed on the screen.
The cab ride felt endless. My mind kept circling back to Vincent and Sophia Laurent tangled together. What would her face look like when she saw me? Guilt? Defiance? Or worse—indifference?
But nothing could've prepared me for what waited at the club.
The VIP lounge was empty—no sign of Sophia. Maybe she'd bolted, knowing I'd uncover her betrayal.
Inside the private room, it was like stepping into some modern-day Roman orgy.
Dozens of wannabe starlets clung to every available surface—all plunging necklines, short skirts, and legs that went on forever. The air was thick with the cloying stench of cheap perfume and raw ambition.
Vincent held court beside Richard Winston, a nouveau riche investor with sausage fingers currently buried in some dancer's thigh. Their matching shark-like grins said it all—they were two of a kind.
This was the man Sophia had been with last night?
"Ethan! Meet Richard Winston," Vincent announced, waving his cigar like a scepter.
I forced a smile, choking out some hollow praise. Richard lapped it up, preening like a rooster as he downed the whiskey I handed him.
Then Vincent dropped the real reason I was here. "Our new web series just got the greenlight. Richard's money came through. We need an on-set screenwriter."
A career lifeline. I nodded, my stomach twisting.
A brunette draped herself over Vincent, her fingers toying with his collar. "Director Roscente, any chance I could audition?"
The room erupted—every girl suddenly clamoring for their "shot." Vincent and Richard ate it up.
"Everyone gets a chance," Vincent chuckled, his gaze lingering too long on the brunette. "But only the most talented will make the cut."
We all knew what that meant.
"Speaking of talent," Richard slurred, pulling out his phone, "last night's dancer was something else. Took a few souvenirs."
My blood turned to ice. Sophia?
The photos left nothing to the imagination—initial embraces escalating into full-blown bedroom acrobatics. The woman's face was hidden, but that emerald dress? Unmistakable.
These weren't just predators. They were collectors, documenting their conquests like trophies.
"Come on, Ethan!" Richard grinned, waving me over. "Join the fun."
I stood frozen, fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. The urge to smash Richard's smug face warred with cold, hard logic.
Then my phone buzzed.
Sophia's name flashed on the screen.
End of My Actress Girlfriend Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to My Actress Girlfriend book page.