My Actress Girlfriend - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading My Actress Girlfriend, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of My Actress Girlfriend.
Sophia stiffened for just a heartbeat before quickly smoothing her expression.
"I did meet a friend last night to discuss some things."
My eyebrow arched. "What kind of discussion lasts until sunrise?"
"Weren't you up all night chatting with Vincent too?" She strode over and shoved me toward the door. "Quit being so suspicious. Out. I'm not having this conversation while I'm trying to shower."
The way she scrambled to cover her tracks almost made me laugh. Even now, she couldn't stop lying. Was she clinging to me out of some twisted reluctance, or was I just her safety net?
After that, we settled into an uneasy truce—Sophia playing the doting girlfriend while sneaking out at night, me pretending not to notice the lingering scent of Vincent's cologne on her clothes.
And she was still seeing him. Regularly.
I checked that jewelry box again. More photos, more videos—nothing groundbreaking, just the usual tangled limbs and hushed moans.
So, she'd really sold herself for a shot at fame.
At another booze-soaked gathering with Vincent and Richard, I casually dropped Sophia's name.
"Speaking of Sophia, the investors were into her at first. But she's too... restrained. Missed her moment. Now they've got their eyes on someone new."
Vincent's gaze flicked toward Richard, then back to me with a smirk.
I followed his line of sight. Richard had some fresh-faced girl curled in his lap—couldn't have been older than twenty, a new face.
His hand was hiking up her skirt, but instead of pushing him away, she pressed closer, her low-cut dress barely holding her in.
Both of them looked flushed, pupils blown wide.
Vincent caught my stare and grinned. "They took a little something to spice things up."
"College junior. Looks sweet, but trust me, she's filthy. Richard's hooked. Already greenlighting three projects to shove her into the spotlight."
That's how this industry worked. Everyone was desperate for fame, but the moment you traded your body for a chance, someone younger, hungrier, would come along and snatch it from you.
To men like them, fresh meat was disposable—playthings to use and discard.
Then, a few days later, Vincent's scandal blew up.
It started with grainy, shadowed photos leaked late at night.
The woman's face was blurred, but her body—all curves and temptation—left little to the imagination. The man, though? Undeniably Vincent.
Tangled together, hands gripping waists, mouths fused in a kiss that left nothing to interpretation.
Within hours, the internet erupted: Vincent, the married man, caught in a very public affair.
"I did meet a friend last night to discuss some things."
My eyebrow arched. "What kind of discussion lasts until sunrise?"
"Weren't you up all night chatting with Vincent too?" She strode over and shoved me toward the door. "Quit being so suspicious. Out. I'm not having this conversation while I'm trying to shower."
The way she scrambled to cover her tracks almost made me laugh. Even now, she couldn't stop lying. Was she clinging to me out of some twisted reluctance, or was I just her safety net?
After that, we settled into an uneasy truce—Sophia playing the doting girlfriend while sneaking out at night, me pretending not to notice the lingering scent of Vincent's cologne on her clothes.
And she was still seeing him. Regularly.
I checked that jewelry box again. More photos, more videos—nothing groundbreaking, just the usual tangled limbs and hushed moans.
So, she'd really sold herself for a shot at fame.
At another booze-soaked gathering with Vincent and Richard, I casually dropped Sophia's name.
"Speaking of Sophia, the investors were into her at first. But she's too... restrained. Missed her moment. Now they've got their eyes on someone new."
Vincent's gaze flicked toward Richard, then back to me with a smirk.
I followed his line of sight. Richard had some fresh-faced girl curled in his lap—couldn't have been older than twenty, a new face.
His hand was hiking up her skirt, but instead of pushing him away, she pressed closer, her low-cut dress barely holding her in.
Both of them looked flushed, pupils blown wide.
Vincent caught my stare and grinned. "They took a little something to spice things up."
"College junior. Looks sweet, but trust me, she's filthy. Richard's hooked. Already greenlighting three projects to shove her into the spotlight."
That's how this industry worked. Everyone was desperate for fame, but the moment you traded your body for a chance, someone younger, hungrier, would come along and snatch it from you.
To men like them, fresh meat was disposable—playthings to use and discard.
Then, a few days later, Vincent's scandal blew up.
It started with grainy, shadowed photos leaked late at night.
The woman's face was blurred, but her body—all curves and temptation—left little to the imagination. The man, though? Undeniably Vincent.
Tangled together, hands gripping waists, mouths fused in a kiss that left nothing to interpretation.
Within hours, the internet erupted: Vincent, the married man, caught in a very public affair.
End of My Actress Girlfriend Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to My Actress Girlfriend book page.