Page 16 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

Grayson held me with a big hand under my breastbone, tightening his grip so I couldn’t twist and punch him in the nose.

I could smell his cologne, too, the same one he had always used.

What a fucking asshole!

His life had been just perfect since his disgusting betrayal, hadn’t it?

“Let’s just sit down and talk,” he said. “Have a cup of tea.”

“I don’t make tea for cheating bastards,” I replied, but Grayson hauled me into the kitchen anyway and deposited me at my chair.

Then he moved to the counter, grabbing the tea kettle and setting it on the stove.

I eyed the distance between his broad back and the doorway, but he spoke before I even had a chance to move.

“Don’t bother trying. I can move way faster than you in those 5-inch heels.”

Fuming, I sat silently at the table until he came back with two steaming cups of tea.

I glared at him as he sat down, refusing to drink the steaming mug he pushed gently over to me.

This big asshole folded his hands together on the table and just looked at me, like he was waiting for me to talk.

“Is this some stupid FBI trick, Agent Bentley? Don’t bother. I can ignore you all day long.”

“I am sorry,” he said. “For any hurt you experienced during the course of the investigation.”

My jaw dropped open. “Is that what you consider an apology? You’re shit, Grayson.”

His harsh face flushed slightly.

“My apology is sincere,” he said stiffly. “I’m sorry you don’t accept it.”

“Of course I don’t fucking accept it!” I shot at him. “And I’ll never accept it.”

He stared unblinkingly at me, a muscle flexing in his jaw. His shifted his position slightly, refolded his hands over the table.

And that was all the emotion I had ever gotten out of Grayson Bentley.

It made me furious that not only had he used and betrayed me, but he thought he was a fucking saint for doing so!

“I wonder how many violent criminals got away while you were staking out my father for two years?” I asked.

“Clementine, I am sorry, but your father is a con man.”

“You think that’s news, asshole? Some of my earliest memories are of us packing a suitcase and fleeing in the middle of the night, with a bunch of guys Dad played poker with chasing after us. When my mom left, her parting words were bitching him out for pinching twenties from her purse. I know he’s a con man. But you’re so much worse, Grayson. He never pretended to be anything he wasn’t. And I don’t care whatever way you try to justify it. You pretended to be a good and honorable man, but you’re literally the worst fucking liar and cheat.”

For a moment, there was silence and I pushed away the cup of tea.

I didn’t want shit that he gave me.

“I’m sorry,” Grayson said again, and I saw a tiny muscle flex in the back of his hand. “I’m sorry it went down like that.”

“No,” I replied. “Just tell me what bullshit your department has set up for me now.”

He hesitated, then reached into his pocket for his phone and pulled up a document. Glancing up, he began to list the FBI’s plan. Monitor me, make sure none of Harvey’s associates contacted or threatened me. Apparently there was some $50 million still missing that had not been recovered after arresting my dad, and they were hopeful Harvey or his associates might lead them to it.

I couldn’t give less of a shit about it. I just wanted Grayson out of my home as soon as possible.

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