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I really don’t think Hendrick’s a rapist.
Unlike his father.
But Hendrick sits, dark head bent over his phone, whiskey on the table, feet on the chair opposite, and his hand in one pocket.
Relaxed, like the dude has an agenda.
He’s probably planning to fuck MG.
You’d think she’d be fucking over him by now.
I go over, pull out another chair, turn it, and sit. “Texting MG, fuckface?”
“Jac, you really need to learn shit about the world,” he replies without even looking up.
“She dump you?”
“I’m not—” He stops and then glances up. “What I do isn’t your business. If your thief you hired—”
“That you fucked.”
“—isn’t talking to you, maybe you need to look inside.”
He puts his feet down and starts to rise. The familiar hot hate rises fast. “Says no fun Hendrick.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jac?”
I wait until he looks at me full on, dropping his hand.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Because she prefers me,” I say.
A strange expression comes over Hendrick’s face, but he picks up his whiskey and takes a sip. “I have no idea if she does, but I saw her when you were done with her.”
“Jealous.” I flash a gloating smile.
“No.” He leans forward, and his eyes are steel and ice. “I don’t do that to women. She was black and blue. Bite marks, the bruise on her face.”
“I didn’t—”
“Think? She’s not a punching bag, and she’s not something to play with when you’re mad at me. I told her you wouldn’t hurt her deliberately like that, but you fucked up. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and you’re taking up space I don’t have.”
He doesn’t say goodbye. He just goes.
Guilt isn’t fun, but it’s there, swamping me, sucking down on me to try and drown me. And maybe apologizing wasn’t enough. I need to do something.
Big.
Bold.
Bombastic.
Woo the way women like to be wooed. I don’t woo usually, but I’ll make an exception. She couldn’t even say she didn’t want me, so I’m halfway there, I’ll woo my apology.
No way can she resist.
* * *
