Page 35 of Claimed by Him

I rummaged through my cabinets, pulling out various ingredients and setting them on the counter. Pancakes were one of the few things I knew how to make from scratch and focusing on small tasks helped me not think about anything else. I’d just finished filling two plates when I heard the shower turn off.

The best thing about not sleeping with Clay anymore was that I didn’t feel the least bit guilty for leaving his pancakes on the counter and starting on mine. I’d only taken a few bites when someone knocked on the door.

Shit. I’d forgotten to call Adare and let her know how things were going. She had a spare key, but I knew she’d never use it unless it was an emergency. I left my plate and headed for the door. I didn’t bother seeing who it was, and the moment I opened the door, I told myself that I really needed to start checking before I opened it.

“Rona.” Jalen’s face was flushed, the skin under his eyes smudged dark. “May I come in?”

I stared at him as I stepped to the side. What was he doing here? Yesterday, he hadn’t been able to get away from me fast enough. I hadn’t asked him to stay, and we weren’t in a relationship. Sure, it’d been a shitty thing to do, but it hadn’t really been much more than an anonymous hook-up. I barely knew him.

“It’s early, Jalen,” I said finally, crossing my arms. It hadn’t felt weird, walking around in my robe with Clay here, but with Jalen, I felt…naked. “Couldn’t this have waited until I was at the office?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t about this case. I came to apologize. For leaving the way I did after…you know.”

“I-It’s–”

“Wow, something smells amazing.”

I looked over to see Clay coming out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist and a grin on his face. A couple months ago, seeing those broad shoulders and flat stomach would’ve turned me on, but now, I had a basic appreciation for his form, and that was all.

He nodded at Jalen. “Hey.”

Jalen’s features turned to ice. “Hey.” He turned to me, his voice as cold as his expression. “I hadn’t realized I was just the first in line last night.”

“Excuse me?” I stared at him, hoping I’d misunderstood. “That’s a hell of an apology.”

He laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “I wanted to apologize because I thought leaving without saying anything was rude. I should have known when you didn’t call me, pissed off about my behavior, that you’d had other plans.”

“What’s going on, Rona?” Clay asked, looking back and forth between the two of us.

Jalen glanced at him, then turned back to me. “Did you shower before you fucked him, or does it turn him on, getting sloppy seconds?”

Mother. Fucker.

I grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him toward the door. “I don’t know if you think having money means you can talk to people like that, or that fucking me one time means you own me, but I don’t care about whatever the hell your damage is. Stay the fuck away from me.”

I shoved him out onto the landing, a part of me was hoping he hit a patch of ice and fell down the stairs. I slammed the door shut and stayed there for a moment, resting my forehead on the door as I worked to control my temper.

“Who the hell was that?” Clay’s voice held a familiar, protective note. “And what was he talking about, being the ‘first in line?’”

I straightened and took a slow breath. I needed to be careful how I handled this. The last thing I needed was for Clay to go after Jalen for being an ass. Clay was an FBI agent, and assaulting a civilian for insulting a friend wasn’t something the agency would look on too highly.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I turned around. The smile on my face felt as plastic as it was, but it was better than any real expression would be. “It’s done, and we have pancakes that are getting cold.”

Clay looked like he wanted to press for more information, but he knew me well enough that it wouldn’t do any good. “Let me get some clothes on.”

As he picked up his shirt from the floor and headed back into the bathroom, I wondered if I should call Adare and tell her what happened. Then I imagined the look on her face if I told her how badly I’d fucked things up.

Better to leave well enough alone.

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