An awful, mixed stink, something between alcohol, mildew, and something unidentifiable hit her nose like a slap.
“What the hell happened here?” she whispered, heart pounding.
As Ava stepped further into the living room, her eyes swept across the chaos and her stomach turned.
Empty liquor bottles were scattered carelessly across the floor like fallen soldiers after a night of reckless abandon. That alone might’ve been forgivable.
But then she saw them.
Used condoms, at least four or five, dangling over the armrest of the long settee, while others clung limply to the cushions like repulsive decorations. Several wet stains, unmistakable in appearance, marred the once-innocent fabric of the couch.
She recoiled.
God, she thought, what the hell is Charlotte turning this house into?
Disgust surged through her chest. She took a step back to retreat only for her heel to press down on something soft and slick. Her face twisted as she lifted her foot and glanced down.
A red, rolled-up G-string.
