MELISSA
CINDY didn’t know everything of note about AlexanHenleynley. She didn’t tell me about his Friday night moonlighting at a soup kitchen for the homeless.
She didn’t tell me that Alexander Henley wanders around the streets with a cap down low to cover his eyes, handing out hot drinks to people with nothing when he could be drinking champagne in some posh cocktail bar somewhere.
This blatant oversight is what renews my vigor to find out everything
about Alexander Henley.
Everything.
Every. Little. Thing.
Dean doesn’t think an evening volunteering for charity makes any difference. He maintains I’m in too deep, that the man whose house has become my fantasy playground is just as dangerous as the internet rumors make him sound.
He doesn’t know about the escorts. I didn’t tell him
