Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I ruffled his hair to get his attention. “Hey, bud. I need you to wear your headphones for a while.” The last thing I wanted was for him to hear what was undoubtedly going to be a heated conversation between his mother and me.
“Okay,” he said, and without question he reached for the headset and covered up his ears.
I headed back out to the living room, where Alyssa had already made herself comfortable on the couch and was texting someone on her phone. It struck me, not for the first time, that for someone who was so outwardly beautiful, she was ugly on the inside. Selfish, mean, and manipulative. And bitter. She hadn’t always been that way, but since the divorce those unattractive characteristics had magnified to the point that she was just toxic.
The fact that she could sit there so casually, as if she hadn’t just belittled Stevie and called her a whore, made my blood pressure rise. “What the fuck, Alyssa?” I hissed furiously, not even knowing where to start when I had so many things to address. “What are you doing here? Owen has a drop-off time of two this afternoon, not ten this morning.”
She set her phone aside and glanced at me, where I was standing on the other side of the coffee table that separated us. “He was whining and complaining and driving me nuts about getting home so he could play Minecraft.”
And she’d clearly had ulterior motives and wanted to know if what Cece had told her about me bringing a woman up to my place last night was accurate. I had no doubts about that. “Regardless, you should have given me a heads-up that you were dropping him off early.”
She smirked and arched a condescending brow. “And what, spoil the surprise?”
I jammed my hands on my hips, beyond enraged at her gall. “So, you admit that you did it deliberately.”
Her shrug was pure arrogance. “I’ll admit, I was curious to see if what Cece said was true.”
My jaw clenched hard. “It’s none of your fucking business what I do, and who I bring up to my place, when I don’t have Owen.” I stretched my hand out toward her. “Give me your key card to the penthouse.”
She stiffened against the couch cushions, clearly not expecting that demand. “Why? You gave it to me so I’d have it in case of emergencies.”
“Exactly.” Which had never been a problem until now. “And considering you abused that power, and I’m not obligated to give you a key card to my place, I want it back. From now on, when you’re bringing Owen home or picking him up, you can call or text me and I will allow Frank to send you up,” I said of the doorman who vetted guests in the lobby. “Or I will meet you in the lobby. The choice will be mine, not yours.”
Anger flashed in her eyes, but knowing I held the power in this situation, she dug into her purse and removed the key card from her wallet. Instead of handing it to me like any rational person would, she tossed it at my chest like a petulant child. Before I could grab it, the key card fell to the floor at my feet, and I picked it up, slipping it into my sweatpants’ pocket.
Her gaze landed on the articles of clothing on the living room floor that wouldn’t have been there had she arrived that afternoon at the designated time. “Jesus, when did you become so fucking tacky?” she asked, waving a hand at Stevie’s discarded dress, bra, and shoes that made it very obvious what had transpired in front of the windows last night.
When did you become such a fucking bitch? Oh, wait, you’ve been that way for the past few years. I swallowed back the retort, refusing to engage with her.
I was right on the verge of telling her to leave when she asked, “So, who is the woman you brought home for the night?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
“Oh, I think it is,” she refuted.
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Lyss,” I countered, knowing that was part of her issue.
She leaned back against the sofa, a devious look in her eyes. “I have every right to know who you’re bringing around Owen. Surely you haven’t forgotten that morality clause you insisted on adding to our divorce settlement?”
My stomach clenched. Of course I remembered. I’d been the one who’d demanded the morality clause based on her actions that led to our divorce. It had been my only way to try to regulate her behavior around Owen, which excluded allowing random men into her home and barring the use of alcohol and drugs when Owen was with her. It was ironic that she was now turning the tables on me, though I should have seen it coming.