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“I’m going back to bed,” I said, not reacting when I saw him grinning stupidly. “Seeing as there’s clearly no other women hidden under there.”
The sheets were on the floor. I’d taken care of that.
I was on my way toward the door when Mason said, “A few notes, babe.”
I shouldn’t have paused. Shouldn’t have hesitated. I did my part. I chased off the woman Mason fucked. I earned my gold star of the day. And thirty stars equalled one set of signed divorce papers. I should have just focused on what I was there to do: get everything set to marry Tim and not die of alcohol poisoning.
I shouldn’t have. So of course I fucking stopped. I turned around and crossed my arms over my chest. “Notes?”
Mason didn’t move to cover himself. I knew he wouldn’t. He instead just shrugged his shoulders. “It was a good performance, don’t get me wrong. Quite effective given that you and I are presently alone.”
No witnesses if I murdered him. Surely a death certificate was as good as divorce papers…
“Are you listening to me?” Mason said.
I looked across the room at him, trying not to let my cheeks flush.
“No,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound like my throat felt: tight. “No, I was not listening to you, actually.”
“I said that your performance could use a little more emotion,” Mason said anyway.
“Emotion?”
“Yeah,” he said, still wriggling his toes, “I mean, you went just pure rage. Which is great. I mean, I bought it. Whatever big new role you’re up for, I can see how it’s well deserved. But I think we also need to try to pull on the heartstrings a bit. Make these super hot, super fuckable women that I’ll be bringing back every night really feel bad for you, you know?”
I ground my teeth. “You want me to cry over your infidelity, my dear beloved husband?”
Mason grinned. “I’m just trying to help you achieve a more nuanced performance, baby.”
I snorted.
“And I think we’re lacking a bit of movement for the piece.”
“I’m sorry, the ‘piece’?”
Mason drummed his fingertips against his elbows behind his head. His eyes were trailing up and down my body.
“What do you think about getting a little violent with me?” he said, that devilish flash in his eyes. “You know, come over and choke me a little? Slap me for being such a bastard.”
“Threaten to cut off your dick?”
Mason snapped his fingers. “Now you’re thinking! See, Rachel, now we’re getting the creative juices flowing. Give me more, give me more.”
I gave him the middle finger.
Mason ignored it and continued, “I really want girls around town to see me as this like crazy sex-hungry prisoner, you know? And they’ll want to, like, come save me from my withholding wife. This is pie-in-the-sky kind of thinking, I know, but they’ll come to see it as like part of the thrill. To like sneak out early, really early in the morning before you catch them.”
I narrowed my eyes at Mason. “How many more days of this did I agree to?”
“Sixty.”
I snorted and turned to leave. “Nice try, asshole.”
“We’ll get you a robe,” Mason shouted after me.
I turned back again. Damn me, I didn’t keep walking. His eyes were on my body. Trailing up. Trailing down.
“Yeah,” he said, licking his lips. “Something silky. Something that falls open a bit when you run in here with that wild hair of yours. Give the girls a little peek on the way out.”
