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To my pathological people pleasers: How’s that praise kink coming along?
I shouldn’t make her feel that way. It’s not right. It's not her fault I was left at the altar. It isn’t fair to put that on other people, people I love. I’m making a scene, and I need to stop.
I don’t miss the way Cami and Cici look at each other, silently talking, probably wondering if they should schedule me a grippy sock vacation.
Because fuck Bradley Reed.
We’re going for cold-hearted baddie vibes. Black Widow-type shit. But, you know. Without the murder. Bodily harm . . . I mean, maybe.
“Julie, I promise you this: nothing helps more to get over a shitty man than fucking him over the same way he fucked you over. It’s . . . a scientific fact.”
She’s in her healed girlie era and we love that for her. I just personally am not there and more in my Reputation era.
Now I’m burying any pain and sadness beneath a thick layer of anger. Of vengeance. Don’t get mad, get even is my new motto.
My current primary assignment is to keep tabs on Bradley Reed, the man who we have substantial evidence is siphoning funds from his investment firm, and his fiancée, whose name he put everything into.
and when I realize it all fits into a box that I can balance on my hip, small enough to fit under my arm, I realize this is what I was always to Bradley. A forgotten frame in a closet. A tiny box of things. A small inconvenience and a key left on the counter without a second thought. I was nothing.
Survival of the fittest can suck my dick.
I just spent a full hour with Olivia Anderson and I know two things for certain. One, she is absolutely not guilty. And two, I am so totally fucked.
Life is both painfully short and dreadfully long, and you only get the one. Live it for you.”
I smile. That’s my fucking girl, I think.
Nina gives me a face that says, Girl, be so fucking for real.
Does that temper your fucking hard-on for her? the devil on my shoulder asks.
God, if she were mine, I’d put her over my knee for being such an idiot. Jesus fucking Christ, Valenti, get it the fuck together.
I almost married that little bitch.
Definitely not because the edge of fear in her voice made me sick to my stomach. Definitely not because I felt an unavoidable need to check in on her, make sure she was okay, in one piece.
Don't you? the little fucking asshole on my shoulder asks. Don’t you like it? Even just a little. I punch him.
“To be fair, when I did, I was bleeding from my head and a pretty girl was standing in front of me.”
“Oooh, so it’s like one of those fake dating romances! Where they start as pretend and then before you know it, they’re boning!”
“He looks at you like he wants to eat you alive, Olivia. That’s not how a man looks at someone he views as a job.
When I bite my lip, his eyes move right there, and I can see it. The struggle. Holy shit.
“Little menace! God, it’s just too perfect, isn’t it? His little menace.” Edna practically has hearts in her eyes. “Can you imagine him saying that during—”
I must have hit some kind of mark because his hand reaches out and before my brain can process it, he twines his fingers with mine then pulls our hands, and by association me, closer before pressing his lips to my fingers.
us. And most ground-shaking, the way his eyes lock onto mine, it’s like I’m the only thing in this universe.
“Menace, give it to me.”
She feels good there, pressed against me. It must cloud my mind. Or maybe it's the two sips of alcohol I had. Or maybe it’s the sun. Or maybe it’s the short fucking skirt she’s wearing that swishes against her upper thighs with each step. Either way, I speak, and the words absolutely do not pass through a filter before leaving my mouth. “If you were mine, I’d fuck ‘fine’ out of your vocabulary. A woman like you? Deserves nothing but fucking perfection.”
I’m in such dangerous territory, playing with fire. Let me burn
“You let everyone think you don’t need their help, Olivia, but you’re getting mine no matter what, okay?”
I lean down and I press my lips to her forehead before I make my way toward the man. I tell myself the move was for the pictures.
But I can admit—if only to myself—that the move was completely selfish. Fully motivated by nothing more than wanting to put my lips on her skin, by wanting to comfort her. And I repeat: I am so fucked.
Do not get in my woman’s face.”
Anyone tries to get in her fucking way, though, they’re going to get my wrath.”
He’s always so fucking patient with me, like nothing else in the world matters.
And then those lips are on mine. The universe stops turning. It might implode for all I know.
His hand on my neck has moved to cup my jaw, the other trailing to my waist to pull me in closer as he continues the kiss, slow and lazy like he doesn’t have a care. Like the world as we know it isn’t changing completely.
“Olivia,” he says in a growl against my lips, and it’s low and travels straight to my belly, making it warm. It was meant to be a warning, but instead, it’s a turn-on. A dangerous, dangerous turn-on. “Andre.” My own voice is breathy, and his name on my lips has his hand tightening on my waist.
His hand moves to my throat, tipping my head back again so I have no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I am not the kind of many who does it doesn’t have to be anything, Olivia. I am all or nothing. And if I gave in, if I had you, I’d need it all. We can’t be all so we have to be nothing. Does that kill me? Absolutely. Do I want to drag you out of this godforsaken place and take you home and fuck you until the only word you remember is my fucking name? Absolutely. Am I going to? No. This is not that, Olivia. We are not that.”
“Little menace,” he says before dipping his head forward once more, pressing his lips gently to mine, and I decide I’m going to take his advice after all. I'm going to get my revenge in the form of thriving post-Bradley. And I’m going to do it with this man who is consuming me as we stand here.
I made a mistake when I kissed her. I knew it immediately. I was a fool to think kissing Olivia Anderson once would be enough, would sate me. If Olivia is a spark then I am a forest, and I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop her flame from consuming me now that she’s set fire to my world.
Now, my entire body can only focus on protecting her, on keeping that waver out of her voice, on keeping her safe and happy and . . . mine.
I fuck up again when I keep my eyes on the road but lift her hand, pressing it to my lips. “My place,” I say against her skin. And when her entire body relaxes, when she becomes quiet once more but not in a worrisome way, I should be concerned by how my body also relaxes. But I’m too far gone to.
“Come with me,” I say in a whisper, my fingers grazing his hand and a plea in my voice. “I can’t, Olivia,” he tells me, his voice just as low, the rumble doing amazing things to me. Just talking to him like this, his eyes burning, his voice gravelly, is the best fucking foreplay I’ve ever had.
I don’t do quick. I don’t do easy. I don’t do just this once, and that’s good because somehow, I know with you, it would never be just this once. You would be an addiction I couldn’t quit, a distraction I’d never want to come back from. And right now, my job is protecting you.” Something flashes in his deep eyes, like that means something more to him, and it pools, warm and liquid, in my belly.
“A menace,” he whispers, lips brushing mine as his head tips down, and then he’s stepping, moving me until my back is to the wall, until I’m pinned in place with his body, and he’s kissing me. He’s kissing me. Holy fucking shit.
“But whatever. I’m turned on because I’ve been around you all fucking day, teasing me just by existing. Because even though it’s dumb, I am wildly attracted to you. So, I’m going to go lie in your bed and take care of myself since you refuse to step up and do the job.” I step closer to the door, eyes locked on his so I can see the way the fire burns there.
“Good. Feel free to listen. I’m not exactly quiet.”
My breath catches as I imagine it’s Andre’s hand touching me. He’d be tentative and teasing, partly because he’s unsure and partly because something tells me that man would play with me for hours, until I beg for more, delighting in the way I moan and writhe without him doing much of anything. That thought alone pulls a moan from my chest.
