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“Is she blowing you?” The corners of his lips curl up in a snarl he’s holding back.
“If you broke up with a woman who gave three-hundred-thousand-dollar blow jobs, youarestupider than I thought.”
“That’show much you cost?” He blanches, so I keep going.
“You did your homework and requested me. So, no, you’re not stupid. You know how high-powered law firms work. I can’t just do a case like this for free. Or blow jobs.”
“So where—” He stops. “Are you pimping her out for sex?”
He may not want her anymore, but guys like him have a jealousy setting that spins off the charts when shit doesn’t go their way. He wanted her to bedesperate and alone.
“You can say that.” I stand up to signal I’m leaving. “My two best friends will be enjoying her this month. She’ll be screaming their names in a few hours.” All I want right now is to hear her scream my name. “I’ll be in touch after I go through the police reports. Watch your back in here.”
I turn and leave, worked up.
I need to fuck someone, or I’m going to explode.
THIRTEEN
BERNADETTE
Emery didn’t let me leave Indigo Art Supply with just a sketchpad and a few pencils. We walked around the entire store and he bought me a whole new array of art supplies.
I couldn’t possibly carry it all back to Ford’s place. And the cool, multi-tiered rolling cart Emery picked out needs to be put together by Indigo’s concierge service. With no hesitation, he paid for everything to be delivered and set up for me.
Emery is a scientist, not a handyman.
When he offered me a lift back to Ford’s, I said I wanted to walk.
“You sure you don’t want a ride in the limo?”
“Nah, I want to call my friend over a cup of coffee and commiserate about what happened at the auction.”
Emery laughs. “I love your honesty.” With a peck on my lips, he says, “I’ll see you Monday, sweetheart. Have fun with Ash tomorrow night.”
“I sure will.”
“Minx.” He seizes a handful of my hair and tugs my head until I look up at him. “I like it. Keep challenging me.”
After a powerful kiss, he struts to his limo, and I find the air breathable again.
It’s been locked away with my sanity.
What the hell am I doing?
At the coffee shop on the next block, I call Zara.
“You’re alive!” she yelps.
“I sure am.” I open a pack of raw sugar.
“How did the auction go?”
I give her the play-by-play. When I’m done, I only hear heavy breathing on the other end.
“Five hundred thousand dollars?” she finally dribbles out.
“I only got four hundred thousand after the kickback fee, and I have a potential three-hundred-K legal bill.”
