Maxim
MaximAfter checking into Chateau Marmont, Hollywood’s famous boutique hotel, known for keeping celebrities’ most scandalous secrets, I keep my eye on Sasha’s tracker. I checked my credit card charges, and they match with the trip to L.A.—she didn’t just give her phone to someone to give me the slip.
No, I imagine Sasha knows full well I will track her here and bring her back home; she just wants to make me work.
And to have her fun in the meantime.
According to Dima, the address she’s been for the past couple hours is an apartment near USC—the same one she lived in last year. It seems she’s visiting someone—a roommate, perhaps.
A lover?
The idea unsettles me. More than unsettles me. It kicks me in the gut.
I never asked her if she was previously involved. Maybe she had a boyfr
