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Carefully slipping one nail under the other, I begin scraping out the little bits of vegetable from my nail bed.

“I didn’t catch his name, but he stopped me while shopping and asked if I was Poppet Kowalski.”

A loud thud echoes through the tiny space. I watch Miles’ silhouette bend to pick up what appears to be a shampoo bottle that fell to the floor. He doesn’t acknowledge the falling object as he begins to lather his hair. “That’s interesting.”

I frown, a piece of carrot being particularly stubborn under my nail.

“He looked like a businessman. About your height. Grey suit with gold rings. He gives off totally mafia boss vibes. Sound like someone you work with?” I press.

Miles’ body turns to face away from the shower, his head tilting back as water cascades over his scalp. He hums while the water does its job, rinsing the soap from his hair. I take the time to trace his shadow, noting every dip and bump of his body. I’m particularly fond of the bulge currently being shown off by the casted shadow. Miles’ cock stands at attention for me, even when his brain doesn’t.

Maybe I could suck the answer out of him, I wonder to myself as I remove the last bit of food from my fingers.

The water cutting off pulls me from my wandering thoughts. Miles drags the curtain back, revealing a drenched body of masculine proportions. The sight makes my mouth water.

No. Bad Mary. We’re here for a reason. Stay on track.

My gaze follows him as he steps out and begins drying his body.

“So?” I ask, prompting him to answer.

“So, what, babe?” he deadpans.

My siren smile falls. Any desire is quickly drenched by the chilled response.

I cross my arms, annoyed that he’s avoiding the question. “The man. Do you know him?”

Miles wraps the towel low on his hips, the cut V of his groin peaking over the top, begging to be licked.

It takes every ounce of me to not hate fuck him right here in the bathroom. He’s being such an ass right now when he could just answer the damn question.

He grabs the empty glass from the shower and walks out of the bathroom. “No, I don’t know him. That could be literally hundreds of people in this city, Mary.”

I hop off the toilet and race after him.

He refills his whiskey at the bar.

I take the bottle from his hand, placing it at the very end of the bar, out of reach. Grabbing the glass from his grasp, I gulp the amber liquid down in one go.

Miles scowls at me, still saying nothing. He knows I’m acting out to get his attention because he’s not giving me the answer I want.

I slam the glass back onto the bar top, not breaking my stare from him. I wipe my mouth with the back of my other hand, licking my skin free of any residual whiskey.

Holding my chin high, I look him straight in the eyes. “Swear it.”

Miles scoffs. “What?”

“Swear on our marriage that you don’t know the man. Because he was pretty certain that he knew me. Followed mearound and everything. Super stalker vibes and not in the good way.”

“You’re crazy,” Miles murmurs.

“Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes, turning to walk back to the bedroom. Heat floods through my body, anger mixing with embarrassment. Did he seriously accusemeof being the problem here?

“I’m not doing this tonight, Mary. I’m going to bed.”

And with that, he closes the bedroom door. Not another word spoken between us. I still don’t have any real answers as to what happened with the strange man from last night.