Page 17 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

“How’s the accounting business?” I asked. “Still keeping you busy at all hours of the day and night? Those tricksy tax returns keeping you balls-deep in random pussy?”

Grayson shifted in his seat, but his face was still expressionless.

“Can’t we talk about this like adults?” he asked.

“OK, boss man,” I said.

An interesting deep flush of color appeared on his face.

“I am sorry you had to hear that,” he said stiffly.

“I’d love to see those FBI orders that specified you had to be fucking Vivi,” I snapped, stretching back in my chair. “Before you come here like an asshole thinking I’m ever going to forgive you, what part of your job was that?”

There was silence again.

“What part of your job was that, Grayson?” I asked again.

“No part of it,” he finally said. “That was not part of my job.”

I smiled grimly. “Now you know why I have no interest in your little apologies or forgiving you.”

I didn’t want to sit across from him anymore, so I pushed away and went to look out of the window.

By the creaking of his chair, I could tell he had gotten up, too.

“Just go the fuck away from me,” I snarled, clenching my hands into fists and turning to glare at him.

Grayson stopped where he was. He didn’t move any closer, but his eyes still watched me.

“No,” he said. “I am here to protect you and that is what I’m going to do.”

I could feel my face flushing with rage.

“What do you think is going to happen, precisely?” I shot at him.

“It’s possible some of Harvey Adler’s associates will try to contact you,” he said. “He was in business with some very dangerous people with mob connections, and I want to make sure you are safe.”

The very idea of him keeping me safe was repulsive, and I crossed my arms over my chest. If I pissed him off enough, surely he’d leave me alone.

“I think instead of that, I’ll find all of Dad’s associates and go ask for a job in the mob,” I said.

A frown appeared on his stupidly rugged FBI face.

“You won’t be doing that, Clementine.”

“Oh, and who’s going to stop me?” I taunted.

“I will,” he said, looking at me with an unblinking ice-blue stare.

“How?” I shot at him without thinking.

He didn’t respond, just looked at me.

Blurgh. Of course he could stop me if he wanted to. He was well over a foot and a half taller and he looked like he ate linebackers for dinner.

“How about I go right now and rob a bank,” I said hotly, headed for the door.

Grayson moved way faster than such a big man had any right to move, blocking my path.

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