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Quinn trudged back to his car. He was soaking wet but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Just a few months ago he didn’t even want to take Margot to Sebastian’s wedding, now he was dreading going without her. She had to go tomorrow; he wanted her with him at the wedding, not only as his date, but as his girlfriend, too. He had to get her to talk to him tonight. She didn’t want him to call? Fine, he wouldn’t call. She didn’t say anything about showing up at her door, though. Quinn smiled to himself; fuck time, he was going to get his woman back tonight, and he was not taking no for an answer. He would do whatever it took to get Margot back. He would camp outside her door if he had to, but she will talk to him tonight, he had no doubt about that.
Chapter 10
Margot was so angry with Quinn. She could not believe he just showed up like that and expected everything to be fine between them. She stomped into her bathroom and started yanked her dress off. The sound of fabric tearing made her even angrier; Margot screamed in frustration as she finally got out of the dress and slammed it to the tile floor. She turned on the shower, took off her bra and panties, tossed her headband into the sink, and stepped around the curtain and into the tub. She stepped into the warm spray, letting the water beat down on her.
Every time Margot closed her eyes, she saw Quinn’s face as she drove away. She saw disbelief and devastation, and she hated it. She completely let her anger take over, and she probably did the dumbest thing ever, but she was so furious with him over what he did, and the way he made her worry. He hurt her, leaving her as he did, not caring about her at all, and Margot felt that he deserved to be hurt in return. That is why she left him, she needed him to hurt as she did; she wanted him to understand what he did to her.
Margot quickly washed up and got out, wanting to get into something comfy and watch TV for a little while before climbing into bed and getting some much needed rest. Since she was no longer going to the wedding, she decided that she would call up a few of the girls from work later to see if they would want to go out for drinks tomorrow night. Oui. That is what she would do because she needed to forget about Quinn for a little while.
Margot put on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top before going out to her living room where she plopped down on the couch. She just picked up the remote to turn on the TV when someone started banging on her door. Margot rolled her eyes. She could only think of one person who would be banging on her door right now.
“Margot! Open up!” Quinn’s deep raspy voice called.
Margot ignored him and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels as the banging continued.
“Margot! I know you are in there. Your car is here, and I can hear the TV. Open the door!”
Margot snorted to herself and continued to flip until she came to a show she liked. Quinn kept banging and telling her to open the door, but she kept ignoring him. An hour went by and he was still out there, pounding on her door. She even heard him snap at a couple of her neighbors who wanted to know what the hell he was doing.
“Margot, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m going to break it the hell down! I’m not leaving until you let me in so that we can talk, so you might as well just come open the damn door,” Quinn called.
Margot sighed and got up. She went over to the door and peeked out of the peephole. Quinn’s distorted figure was standing there with his hands on his hips looking determined. Magnifique! He really was not going to leave until she talked to him.
“I do not want to talk to you, Quinn,” Margot called through the door.
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you break up with me.”
“You do not have a choice.”
“Yes, I do. I will stand out here all night banging on your door until you take me back,” he in return.
Margot sighed in exasperation; her neighbors would kill her if she let him do that. Zut! She unlocked the door and pulled it open. Quinn stood there with one hand leaning on the doorframe while the other fist was up and poised to pound on her door again. His dark hair plastered to his forehead, and a bruise marred his cheek where Henry punched him. He was still soaking wet, and his gray T-shirt, which was already snug fitting, was glued to his torso, showing off every ripple of muscle he had. His jeans hung low on his lean hips and hugged his hard thighs with their dampness. Damn him for being so sexy when all Margot wanted to be was mad at him.
