Missy finally looks up, but I don’t pull away. Through my peripheral I spot Jacob adjusting in his chair uncomfortably. “Griffin? Everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” I snap, pointing my gaze on him. “Are you going to control your wife, or do I need to put the leash on her?”

He lets out a hoarse laugh, looking between Missy and me who is now shocked. He thinks I’m joking, but when he takes note of my serious tone, my solid face, he straightens up. “I—I don’t get what you mean…?”

“Oh, get the fuck out of here with the bullshit, Jake. We all know why you come here for dinner— why you plan these monthly visits. You are not joining my business. I would never even consider hiring you. You’re lazy, you gamble, and you would be a huge fucking liability.”

They gasp, looking at each other with broad eyes before looking at me. I push out of my chair and step back with my wine of glass in hand. When I said I was taking my life back, I meant it. I’m done with these phoney dinners and bullshit smiles. I’m tired of people trying to use me to their advantage. This is my life, and the first ones to go are the full-of-shit-Potters.

“You know what, actually, no cake for either of you. How about you just get the fuck out of my house now? That would make my night so much better.”

They are stuck in their seats, so flabbergasted. So floored. I guess I would be, too, considering I’m usually the levelheaded one in this relationship, but not anymore. They’re only wasting my time. I’ve gotten three calls from my angel and I’d much rather be there than here right now.

“Griffin, I didn’t mean any disrespect—”

“I’m sure you meant all the disrespect in the world, Missy.” My voice is even. Careful. I walk around the table and meet at the exit of the dining room. I extend an arm and gesture in the direction of the front door. “You two can leave now.”

They are quick to get up, looking at one another, Jake angry as he looks at me and Missy confused. They are hesitant to walk by me, but they do anyway, glancing over their shoulders as they trip over one another to get down the hallway.

They make it to the front door and pull it open, Missy staggering out first. Jake follows closely behind her, but he turns just as quickly, looking at me. “Griffin, I’m really sorry for Missy’s behavior. I don’t want you to think of her and think any less of me.”

I exhale impatiently, looking him over as I grip the doorknob. “Control your wife, Jake. Stop letting her spend so much of your fucking money. You seriously wonder how you keep getting in debt? Well there’s your reason, right there.” I point over his shoulder at Missy who is waiting by their car, applying lipstick.

He looks over his shoulder. “If I get rid of her, you think I can come work with you?”

I give him a dull look, step back, and slam the door in his face. I don’t have time for his nonsense. Marching down the corridor to get to the dining room again, I find Colette sitting at the table, staring ahead at her slice of coconut cake.

“You kicked them out?” She lifts her head to look at me.

“I’m sure they won’t be planning another dinner with us ever again.”

“Yeah.” She laughs. “I heard pretty much everything you told them.” Her eyes thin up at me. “That isn’t… well, Missy? You don’t want me to look anything like her, do you?”

“Colette, no. You’re fine the way you are.”

“I know, but… shit.” She waves it off. “I don’t know.” Silence settles in the dining room and for the first time in forever I feel sorry for her. Of course, after only five seconds, she makes me regret feeling anything at all because she waves a hand in the air, head shaking. “You know what? I don’t really give a shit. Just get rid of this cake.” She gestures to the table, her nose scrunched with disgust. “Go to work. Do whatever you need to do. The dinner is over with. You cleared your deal with me. Just get out of my face.”

She pushes up out of her chair and I watch her walk around me. Now I’m confused, brows sewn together as she clomps her way up the stairs. I hear a door slam, and I shut my eyes, exhaling again as I drop my arms.

I swear I will never understand that fucking woman. And right now I don’t plan on it.

I walk up the stairs. She’s not in the bedroom because the door is still open. That means she’s in her study.

I collect my bag and pull out my cellphone. I was supposed to meet Angelina at The Swan two hours ago. I haven’t responded to her missed calls.

I’m sure she’s upset, probably thinks I’m bailing on her.

Maybe I’ll keep having her think that and surprise her. Yeah, I’ll do that.

I check my emails, the one with her room information, and I thank God she sent it.

I need an outlet. Some real release. I need out of this house, away from reality. Who better to escape it with than a woman that wants every single inch of me?

SEVENTEEN

Angelina

I’ve called Griffin five times since landing in Miami.

Jesus. I never do that, but there is a logical explanation. I have been eager to see him ever since we left each other in San Diego. Isn’t that terrible?

Like now.

I am staring down at my cellphone on the bathroom counter, debating whether I should even bother freshening up.

What if he doesn’t show? I’m sure he’ll have some excuse, and no matter how believable it is I will still be disappointed.

Nothing beats wanting someone so badly you fall victim for every thought, every whim, and every ache they conjure up within you.

I sigh, looking up at the mirror. My hair is beautifully straightened thanks to my hairdresser Naomi back in New Mexico. Funny because she asked me why I wanted it straightened this time instead of my regular loose curls.

I couldn’t fight the grin that swept across my mouth, and when she caught it through my reflection in the mirror, she laughed and said, “Ohh! Now I see!” She giggled as I did. “Let’s get you looking irresistible, then, hot mama.”

It felt nice to share some girl talk. With all the business I’ve been doing with these uptight men lately it felt good to indulge and brag about my personal plans. I usually do it with Jackie.

I told Naomi all about Griffin—well, I didn’t tell her his name or anything exactly—and she was intrigued. Not only that, but as always, she made sure to make my hair as beautiful and as silky as possible. I also didn’t tell her he was a married man. I didn’t need my reputation ruined for that.

I am no one’s mistress.

But… I know I’m lying to myself.

Apparently I’m Griffin Boyd’s mistress because, here I am, waiting in a hotel for this married man. Waiting for him to sneak his way here and fuck me.

Because that’s all this is. Fucking.

I decide to do myself up anyway. If he doesn’t show, I’ll just carry my workaholic ass down to the hotel bar and have a few, let loose for a while.

Griff made some promises, but stopping by because I decided to show up randomly was not one of them.

He’s probably busy. I guess I can’t blame him if he doesn’t.

So, I take care of myself, grooming my hair, even though it doesn’t need it, brushing my teeth, applying some makeup, and then dressing in a tan and black halter-top dress and open-toe, red bottomed Louboutins.

I look at the mirror when I’m done, my lipstick matching the bottoms of my shoes.

A smile creeps to my lips.

Good enough.

Hmm… maybe I won’t just get a drink at the bar. Maybe I’ll catch a cab and go to a chill nightclub with a comfortable VIP section. It’s not hard for me to make friends, catch a couple of free drinks here and there from some cute guy.