Page 15 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

My brain still had not caught up with the sweet little angel I expected to find.

“I was just doing my job,” I said, my eyes taking in every inch of Clementine, from the top of her perfect silky hair to the tips of her pointy sexy as fuck heels.

“I’ve come to warn you that your father is about to get released from prison, and the FBI has decided to give you some protection in case he tries to contact you or in case any of his associates come around.”

“Send a letter next time,” she said, trying to shove the door closed on me. “Goodbye now.”

But my thumb was throbbing, and I wasn’t about to leave.

It felt like we had unfinished business.

So I opened the door and came inside.

CHAPTER 7

Clementine

When Grayson brushed by me on the way inside, I wanted to literally throttle him.

But of course, I couldn’t even have reached the big asshole’s neck.

He turned around in the hallway, his big body filling the narrow space.

Grayson still looked pretty much the same, there was just more salt and pepper in his dark crew cut now. But his jaw could still cut glass, his eyes were still cold and expressionless, and he was still the size of a barn door.

At one time the sight of him in front of me would have been the most comforting thing in the world. That feeling of security and peace in knowing he was there, making sure I was safe. Because who the fuck would mess with me as long as Grayson was around?

That was a long-ass time ago, though. Now the very sight of him made me sick.

He seemed infuriatingly calm and blasé, like he had any fucking right to walk in here after what he had done to me.

Protect me? Fuck him!

“Get out of here, Grayson!” I said again. “I don’t need or want your help. I know my dad is getting out of jail already. Can’t wait to see him.”

His dark brows drew together.

“Don’t be childish, Clementine. Your dad was involved with some dangerous people. I am here to do a security check and stay with you for a few days to make sure you’re safe.”

His huge arms were folded over his chest, and he was giving me that look that he always had. Like he was the big-ass boss, and what he said went. He was wearing a dark navy-blue suit and pants, his white shirt crisp and pristine, his tie perfectly knotted.

What a fucking perfect little Boy Scout.

“You’ll be staying here over my dead body!”

Then I jumped him, closing my fingers on his tie and trying to tighten it around his neck.

But my ex-torturer was so big that he was only knocked off balance a little bit, and he grabbed me around the waist to keep me from swinging so hard that I knocked into the wall.

“Clementine, be reasonable! I’m just here to keep you safe.”

His growly rumble irritated the fuck out of me and I lashed out as hard as I could, trying to jab my fingers in Grayson’s eyes.

“Get your hands off me!” I yelped.

He flipped me around and held me tight against his chest so all I could do was drum my heels on his legs.

“Fuck!” I said. “I wish I had the grip strength to throttle you.”

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