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My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “That wasonetime.”
“One time too many,” he countered, wiping his chest and once again drawing attention to the muscles there. The sunlight connected with the water droplets to highlight the definition even more. It was practically blinding.
“Put. It. Back.” I stabbed him in staccato. “And put on a shirt.”
He leaned in, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from mine. “Make me.”
I stomped around him, lifting the chunk of wood he’d removed. He’d cleared out a whole section of the fence, which meant the pieces were still bound together by two cross beams and damn they were heavy. The thing is I could lift it, but I couldn’t do anything more than that, and my hands were screaming at me to drop it.
“Fuck,” I muttered, setting the piece down to examine my palms. Sure enough, that white gauze was now stained pink with blood.
“Are you bleeding?” Beck asked with the patience of a man with a small daughter who undoubtedly went against his wishes on a regular basis.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
Beck slicked back his hair with his forearm. “Do you need me to fix you up again?”
I shoved my fisted hands to my sides. “I can fix myself, Beck Bennet. And I’m calling the cops.” I pushed past him and back toward my side of the fence.
He smirked. “No, you won’t.”
He had me there.
“Well, I’m calling Sebastian,” I called over my shoulder just before I slammed the back door shut.
* * *
I rushed into work, late, again, all thanks to Beck fucking Bennet.
The audacity.
I tripped and fell, and sure, I was a little stunned at first, but that didn’t give him the right to jump over my fence like I’m some damsel in distress nor does it give him the permission to make a literal door between our backyards.
Easy access.
Okay, my lady bits were all riled up at the idea of him slinking over into my house in the middle of the night for evening acrobatics.
If only my head could also get on board.
Luckily, I did manage to make the appointment with a therapist.
Still, he had absolutely no right to do that. I’d have to get him back somehow.
Setting my revenge-plotting aside, I sat down to answer emails in my favorite booth at Club Deux.
There was nothing I loved more than spending time at the dance club during the day. With the house lights up, it felt like a different place entirely. Almost like the club had a secret identity.
After a call with Parvati to check in on the Chateau, a notification popped up in the bottom right-hand corner of my screen.
I double clicked the incoming email to find the invitation to the Sexual Assault Survivors Network Gala—thesame event that I met Carter at.
Then another email popped up, a forwarded message from… “Speak of the devil.”
I opened this new email to find a message from my ex:
I hope to see you there. - Carter
“I’ve been going to this event for years, but yes, you pretend like this is your event and I’m just invited.” I shut my laptop and stood in search of a coffee or sparkling water, not wanting to examine why the simple, innocuous email elicited such a strong reaction.