She shakes her head a little too quickly. “No, I can’t. I promised. She made me promise not to let you in because she’s, like, throwing up and uh… she’s embarrassed.”

Fuck, this kid’s a shitty liar. “Axelle, let me—”

“Just go, Blake. She’ll call you. I promise. But, you have to leave. Now.” She pushes back to close the door, and I hold my hand out to stop it.

I lean in and whisper. “Kiddo, what the fuck is going on? You think I don’t know that you’re lying through your teeth? I want to see her. Just to make sure she’s okay. If she tells me to leave, I’ll go.”

Her eyes brim with tears. My heart cramps and dissolves a fraction of the anger that boils just below the surface.

“Hold on,” she whispers and shuts the door.

I stand there counting and picturing fuzzy baby animals to avoid going ten kinds of Hulk on the front door.

Layla knows me better than to think I’m going to walk away with a simple brush off from Axelle. I don’t know what’s going on—maybe she really is sick. All I know is I’m not moving a motherfucking inch until I hear it from her mouth.

Impatient, I reach for the door and twist. Locked? I pull out my key just as the door inches open.

My heart slams into my ribs so hard I stumble back a step. Layla is dressed in a fire red dress that she wears like a second skin. Her honey-colored breasts are pushed up and overflowing at the top, while the bottom cuts off just inches below her perfectly round ass. And to top it off, she’s wrapped in a big red bow. I feel my hand splayed over my chest before I realize I’d put it there. “You… you’re…” I blow out a long breath and blink to make sure I’m not seeing things.

“Blake, I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well.”

Her words bring me back. I fix my eyes on her, and damn if her body in that dress killed me, her face and hair just buried me. “Mouse, you look like an angel.”

She doesn’t blush. No smile, not even a twitch of her lips. This isn’t my Layla. “I’m sick, Blake. We’ll uh… I’ll take a rain check, okay?”

I rub my head and tug at as much hair as I can fit between my fingers. “I don’t get what’s going on. Axelle’s lying to me, you’re fucking lying to me. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Wait, why won’t they let me in the house? A fiery rage explodes behind my ribs. My vision blurs, and I step back. “Who’s in there, Layla?” My growled words are the first thing that gets a response.

Her eyes grow wide, and her jaw falls open. “Why would you say that?” The pitch of her voice is unusually high.

“Move away from the door.”

“Blake, no—”

“Who the fuck is in there?” Fuck this. I slam into the door and stumble into the tiny kitchen.

“Blake, no.” She grabs my arm and I shrug her off easily.

Kitchen’s empty. I move to the living room, where Axelle’s standing hunched over, her elbows locked to her sides, her hands balled together tight. What in the motherfucking hell is going on here?

There’s movement from the hallway that catches me off guard. I spin around fast.

A man saunters toward me with the confidence of a fucking royal. “You lost, boy?”

Twenty-seven

Blake

I move fast and unthinking. On pure possessive instinct, I’m inches from the guys face. “Who the fuck you calling ‘boy’?” I spit my words through clenched teeth.

“Blake, no,” Layla says from the kitchen doorway.

A whimpering sob comes from Axelle’s direction in the living room.

“It’s okay, Elle. Your mother’s little toy was just leaving.” He swings his gaze from Axelle back to me. “Weren’t you, boy?”

He called Axelle, Elle. This is Stew, the cocksucker who ruined my woman’s life. The one who belittled her, embarrassed her, fucked her against her will. Rage, hot and welcome, floods my body. I’ve been waiting for this day. My fists clench, and my heart races to throw the first punch. It’s time to teach Stew a lesson.

He’s a dead man.

I put my nose inches from his, which isn’t hard. The dickhead’s my size in height and not far behind in weight. “You’ve got one chance to step outside with me. One. Chance. You pass it up, I’ll drag your ass out of here. But you and I are going to settle this man to man, whether you like it or not.”

Stew smiles and chuckles. “Oh, that’s funny. Laylay, you didn’t tell me how funny your little friend is.”

He moves toward Layla with an outstretched arm. Her body visibly tenses.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I roar.

He lifts his eyebrows. “Excuse me, but I’ll touch my wife if I damn well please.”

“She’s not your wife. Not anymore.”

“I beg to differ. I’m contesting our divorce. We’re still married.” He hooks Layla over her shoulders and drags her to his side. “I let her go for a few months so she could get her head straight. But I decided it’s been long enough.” He runs his hand through her hair, and she cringes. “It is Valentine’s Day, after all. The day for lovers.”

My head pounds, and I’m dizzy with the urge to attack. I’d knock the shit out of this guy, but I can’t. Not in front of Axelle. Fuck. Killian should be here soon. He can get her out of here. I can hold off until then.

“If you don’t mind, my wife and I have some catching up to do.” The lascivious curl of his lips makes my muscles jump to get at him.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to kill me to get alone with her.”

Layla pulls away from Stew, only to be pulled back. “Blake, please—”

“Look at you, throwing out the threats.” Stew runs a finger down her bare arm, but she doesn’t cringe away from his touch. “How about this, you leave right now or I’ll call the police.”

I bark out a laugh. “Call ‘em, fuckface. You’re the one they’ll be wrestling out of here in cuffs. City of Las Vegas doesn’t look kindly on sexual predators.”

“I’m her husband. You’re an intruder.”

“Blake, please, just go.” Layla’s pleading voice calls my attention. Her mouth is locked in a tight line, and her shoulders are set back.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I’m okay, but I need you to leave,” she says with a firm edge in her voice.

Has she lost her damn mind? “I’m not fucking leaving you with this guy.”

“I want you to leave.”

I shake my head. She can’t be serious. “No.”

“It’s over, Blake.” Her usually warm eyes are cold and hard.

“The hell it is.” Nausea curls in my gut.

She leans toward me, but not enough to get out from under that fucker’s arm. “You don’t get it. I don’t want to see you. Not now, or ever again. You were a distraction. Nothing more.”

I flinch and take a step back. “You don’t mean that.”

Her body leans a fraction of an inch into Stew’s. “I mean it. I’m married, Blake. Did you really think we’d have a future?”

Tilting my head, I glare at the woman whose bed I was in hours ago and is now as familiar as a stranger. “Why are you doing—”

“If you don’t get out, I’ll call the cops myself.”

Axelle sobs from the living room. “Mom.”

A billion sharp pains splinter my chest, like being stabbed on repeat and never dying. “Mouse?”

“Get the fuck out!” Her chest is heaving, her face flushed.

Her words shake and rattle around inside, destroying my earlier anger and replacing it with nothing.

Void.

Stew steps to the door and swings it open wide, flashing a razor-sharp grin. “You heard the woman. Out.”

I can’t believe this. She’s choosing him over me. All the reasons why I don’t date women with baggage flood back. That shit holds on so tight that it destroys any chance of happiness with anyone else. Here’s proof. No one can take her out of an abusive situation. That’s on her. And if she wants to stay in her fucked-up life with her fucked-up husband, well… fuck her.

“This is bullshit.” I walk up to Layla, and she straightens her shoulders and steels her expression.

I used to find that shit adorable. Now I see it for what it really is. Fake confidence. A big fat fucking lie. Just like my mom and all her bullshit. Layla’s no different. She’s not the strong woman I thought. She’s an insecure housewife who’s cowering under the oppressive arm of her piece-of-shit husband. And the worst part is, her daughter’s standing here watching it. What the fuck kind of woman, knowing what that shit does to her, seeing firsthand what poison it is, would continue to do this?

No, this isn’t the woman I fell in—fuck.

I smile, actually fucking smile and laugh. I’d never fall for a woman this stupid. Whatever shit she pulled over my eyes was potent. But I’ve seen the light. And I’m moving toward it and the hell away from this fuckstorm.

I look into the cold chocolate eyes of the woman who pulled my strings like a motherfucking puppet. “Well played. I gotta give it up to you. You had me fooled.” I move my eyes from Stew’s face back to Layla’s. “Yeah, you two belong together.” I direct a chin lift toward Axelle. “Tough break, kiddo. Unfortunately, we don’t get to pick our parents.”

Without looking back, I leave the apartment behind, along with the man I’ve been for the past month and a half. A life of one night stands, threesomes, and strip clubs is better than putting my fucking heart through a shredder. Yeah, suddenly Zeus’s Playground on Valentine’s Day doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

What’s that saying? The best way to get over a girl is to bang as many chicks as humanly possible in one night? Sounds like a brilliant idea.