Keith was caught with a paroxysm of conniption fit. As soon as he reached the gates of his father’s mansion, he went straight to his room and violently paced the floor like he sought to bore a hole in it. Rampant with rage at the most obvious screenplay that b***h had put up, he’d left the party on a whim, without even speaking to anyone.
Acrimony filled him at the discovery of how that wrecked woman had concocted a means to once again being the center of attention. But to stoop so low as to ruin her best friend’s birthday party was one step too far, even for Samantha bloody Foster.
Hell, anyone could see the swooning was an act of subterfuge, a way to escape his wrath for she knew he was not one to fall for her innocent doe-eyed nonsense. It had happened once, but
