It’s not a delivery man.
Nope.
It’s Scarlett.
Standing in the foyer, staring at me like I’m a piece of shit on her five-hundred-dollar shoes.
Well, I am wearing her ex’s dress shirt, after all.
Tugging on the long white sleeves, I cover my tattoos and fold my arms. “Uh, you’re not the pizza guy.”
“Who are you?” she snaps.
“I’m Mia,” I reply. I can’t decide if I should play this out as friendly or hostile. Henry and I aren’t necessarily together, and I have no reason to be jealous of his ex showing up at his door, but he’s also been anti-sex-at-his-house until recently.
Is she the reason why?
The idea stings. Hell, it burns. Like duct tape being ripped off bare skin, leaving me red and raw and way more sensitive than I’d like to admit. Especially after his thoughtfulness this week. His sweet texts. His little gifts. His well-thought-out non-date night.
The reality is, it isn’t any of my business. We aren’t dating. We’re friends. And everything he did for me this week? It’s what a good friend would do. Friend. With a capital F. Nothing more.
“Mia.” Scarlett says my name is if she’s tasting it and clearly doesn’t like the flavor. She squints at me. “I recognize you.”
“I work at SeaBird.”
“You also follow Henry’s hockey team around like some groupie, right?”
“I think they’re called puck bunnies,” I clarify, keeping my hostility in check no matter how much I want to go Carrie on the bitch. “But no, I’m––”
“I’ve seen your pictures,” she interrupts. “And I have to say, despite most of the images being grainy, the real thing is still quite the disappointment compared to the photographs.”
Aaaand all bets are off.
With a sweet smile, I drop my folded arms and rest one hand on my hip. “Yeah, I’ll have to give you the editor’s contact info, so you can take full advantage. Then again, I haven’t seen any photos printed of you in…” I tap my finger against my chin, “Over a year now? Yikes, Scarlett. Especially considering the fact you’re a model and all. Is business a little slow?”
Oof. I’m a bitch. But I can’t help it. Not after the week from hell I’ve had, and not when someone like Scarlett thinks she can push others around. If she’s treating me like this, I can only imagine how she treats people who don’t have an acid tongue to defend themselves like I do. Besides, she started it.
Ashlyn would tell me to be the bigger person if she was here. I take a deep breath and attempt to do exactly that when Scarlett demands, “Is there a reason you’ve been hanging around the Lions lately?”
“I’m actually their social media manager, but––”
“So you’re sleeping your way to the top?” Her eyes trail down my body. She looks less than impressed. “I’m surprised Henry would stoop so low. After all, he’s never been a fan of trash in his apartment.”
Did she just call me trash?
“You’re right,” I reply. “So you should probably leave before he gets out of the shower and realizes you’re here instead of the pizza.”
“Is there a reason you’re in my apartment?”
“You moved out a few months ago, sweetie,” I remind her.
“And yet, it’s clear you’ve been keeping my side of the bed nice and warm until I decided to return.”
“Decided to return?” I laugh. “He broke up with you. Not the other way around.”
“Is that what he’d like you to believe? He was through with me first?” Her giggle grates on me. She adds, “Oh, honey. You have no idea.”
“Are you talking about the fact you cheated on him?” I clarify. Her silence is deafening as I step closer to her. “You’re right. You might’ve slept with someone else first, but only because you were too much of a coward to break it off beforehand.”
Her eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“I hate to break it to you, Scarlett, but cheaters are cowards. Weak. Pathetic. Cowards.” I step even closer and tilt my head up, holding her glare. I’ve never felt short, but being barefoot compared to her willowy frame and four-inch heels, I’m definitely dwarfed by the bitch. However, I’m too stubborn to back down.
“So he told you I cheated, huh?” she muses. “Sounds like he can’t stop thinking about me.”
“No, I saw firsthand how you cheated. Like I said, I work at SeaBird, which we both know happens to be one of your favorite places to hang out when you’re feeling horny. Too bad none of the guys you ever landed even held a candle to your billionaire ex, huh?”
“So you’re the one who told him,” she assumes. “You’re the reason we’re on a break.”
“Give the guy a little credit, Scarlett. He figured it out on his own.”
Unconvinced, her expression sparks with fury, making her look like she’s two seconds from clawing my eyes out with her two-hundred-dollar manicure. “I’d like to talk to Henry now.”
“I’m sure you would, but he’s in the shower, so I’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.”
Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth, her attention drifting to the hallway. “The shower, huh? That’s fine. I won’t mind the view.”
She starts to step around me, but I mirror her movements, preventing her from cornering Henry or walking around his personal space like she owns it.
“Nah, I think you should stay right there. Or leave and never come back.” I shrug. “Your choice.”
Yup. She definitely looks like she wants to stab me with her sparkly nails. Her focus slides down my body like she doesn’t know what to do with me. “Henry hates tattoos,” she snarls.
“Funny. He spent the last hour running his tongue all over mine.”
“But not in the shower, right?” she challenges. “He’s weird about water and sex. Well, unless it’s my pussy. He can’t get enough of it.”
“I’d almost believe you if I didn’t know he was the one who forced you to move out of his apartment.”
“And I’d almost believe you were more than a puck bunny if he ever claimed you outside his apartment where no one can witness him slumming it.” She pats my cheek roughly like I’m her little bitch. “Maybe stick with hockey players and leave the real men to the big girls next time.”
Her hand drops, and she steps around me again.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Scarlett?” a low voice rumbles from the hallway.
36
HENRY
“What the fuck are you doing here, Scarlett?” I growl.
The ugly lines of frustration disappear from my ex’s flawless complexion almost instantly as I step out of the hallway into the main living area.
Her eyes fall on the towel wrapped around my waist, trailing along my abs and pecs until finally landing on my face.
Her expression falls even more when she realizes how pissed I really am. I’m furious.
“Henry.” Her voice is breathy. Apologetic. Hell, almost angelic, if I didn’t know any better.