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“Cool,” she says. “So we go to Greece next week, then it’s only a month until I move back.”
Wow. In six weeks, she’ll be living here…with me.
My smile spreads. “Yeah, Chlo. The countdown is on. I can’t wait.”
I can hear her smile when she replies, “Me too.”
“Tu me manques,” I whisper.
“Miss you too. Love you, Cat. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you too,” I reply and then set down the phone, my heart feeling lighter than it has in ages.
Chloe is really moving here. I can’t believe how easy that conversation was. Sliding the mouse, I wake my computer monitor, then navigate to google, ready to search for something to send to Chloe for her trip to Greece. A notification pops up in the corner, letting me know that I have a new email from one of my photographers.
When I click on it, I’m confronted by yet another photograph of Jay sitting in a restaurant with Grace. Fuck, it hurts. More than it probably should.
Jay really wants to piss me off. There is no other explanation.
Or maybe he likes her, my traitorous mind taunts.
This is all a game to him. It always has been.
And my brother trusts this woman to set him up with his future wife? The entire thing is insane. Although, any of her choices would be better for my brother than herself—the married woman who used to fuck my ex. And might currently be.
My stomach twists at the thought.
It’s a sick game we’re playing. I flaunted Frank, and now Jay is parading around with Grace. And for what? I don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want to live like this.
For years, I pushed thoughts of him to the back of my mind, only falling victim to his memory during moments of utter weakness. Yes, he owned my midnights and space in my psyche during sex, when I’d retreat into those memories and envision the one thing that could always bring me to orgasm—Jay sliding in and out of me. Like that first time. When he took my virginity. Images of the way his ice-blue eyes melted for me when he sank into me that first time have always been my undoing.
I want him in a way that makes no sense. I can’t stand to look at him. Can’t stand to talk to him. And certainly can’t stand to fucking work for him.
Yet right now, I’m doing just that. Watching the prick of a man as he waltzes past my office door. He offers me his signature smirk when he catches sight of me and stops at the threshold. “Morning, Kitten,” he says, rapping on the doorframe twice, “how was your night?”
I glower at him. “Not as good as yours.”
His brows draw together, like he’s working out a puzzle and can’t quite figure out the last piece. Good. That’s how I like him to feel. Confused. Thrown off. I don’t like when he can read me…when he knows my thoughts before I voice them.
“Frank leave you dissatisfied?” he teases with a smirk. “I’m happy to take over going forward.”
I grunt out a sigh. Why do I engage with him? “Go away. Better yet, go bother Grace if you’re looking for someone to entertain you.”
“Why are you mad at me? You’re the one who doesn’t want her with Cash. I’m doing you a favor.”
What?How the hell does he know I don’t want her with Cash? Ah, that fucking man has been listening to my conversations. It’s bad enough he’s been watching me on video. I didn’t realize he also had sound.
I huff out a sigh. “Very funny, Jay.”
He smiles, fucking smiles, in response to my frustration. “Thanks. I’ve been told I make people laugh.”
“At you, Jay. They’re laughing at you.”
He shoots me a cool glare. “You’re the one who said you don’t want to be with me.”
A bitter laugh escapes my throat. “I don’t.”
“So what do you care if I’m with Grace?” He tilts his head and scrutinizes me, as if he’s genuinely curious.
